The Genesis Files

by Gwen Richardson

  Gwen Richardson

  CHAPTER 43

  Bubba Murray was sitting in his den with his feet perched atop the coffee table and a can of Colt 45 malt liquor in hand, relaxing, as he prepared his mind for the job he would do later that night. Ed was such a weakling, Bubba thought, afraid to stand up to niggers and anyone else who got in his way. With him, it was all about his precious status as editor of the Ledger. He’d do just about anything to protect that.

  Bubba’s daddy had taught him that the best way to handle niggers was by force and intimidation. Isolate one of ‘em and threaten ‘em within an inch of his life. All they needed was to see an example made of a fellow soul brother, and the rest of them would fold like a house of cards.

  That’s what they’d done a few years back when a nigger family moved into the old neighborhood. Bubba and his friends started by throwing a brick through the front window. When that didn’t work, they killed the family’s cat and left the carcass on the front porch with its throat slit. The family finally got the message, packed their bags and moved out. The word got around, and no more niggers had tried to move in since then.

  It had been a while since he’d received an assignment from Ed. Ed only called as a last resort, when the niggers at the paper got out of line and Ed’s intimidation tactics didn’t work.

  The last time was about three years ago when Ed had the hots for a black woman who worked at the Ledger. Ed started sending her anonymous notes at first, letting her know she had a secret admirer at the office. He thought she would recognize his handwriting and respond to his advances.

  After that, he was anticipating some changes in her behavior towards him, but nothing happened. One day at the office, Ed grabbed her ass, and she threatened to file a sexual harassment suit. The head honchos at the paper didn’t tolerate actions by management that could get the paper in legal hot water. If the guys upstairs got wind of it, Ed would have lost his job and most of his pension; plus he’d be blackballed in the industry.

  But Bubba had taken care of that. He parked outside her house one night and waited until she left. He went inside, located the gas line in the kitchen pantry, and severed it with a pipe cutter. When she got home and turned on the light switch—BOOM —the house exploded. She survived, but she had second and third degree burns on her entire body. She spent months in rehab and would be collecting disability checks for years to come.

  Ed was happy because his problem was solved. No more sexual harassment suit, and no fingers pointing at him.

  But the niggers had gotten really uppity since the election of that Muslim from Illinois—Obama. Bubba still wasn’t convinced Obama was born in the good ole USA.

  Some of his pals at the lodge told him about a tape of Obama’s grandmother admitting that she was present at his birth in Kenya. The liberal media had taken care of that, suppressed the tape and paid off the guy’s grandma.

  Since Obama had been in the White House, some of these niggers had gotten the idea in their heads that they were actually running things. Bubba was certain that’s what happened with this Lloyd Palmer fellow. His situation was a bit more complicated than the sexual harassment dust-up, but nothing Bubba couldn’t handle. He’d thought of a way to get that nigger reporter out of the picture, for good.

  Ed didn’t want Palmer killed, but sometimes the misadventures Bubba planned for his targets spiraled out of control, Bubba thought, as he smiled to himself. He couldn’t be responsible if Palmer met with an untimely death, now could he? He had the perfect scheme, and everyone, even the law enforcement officers, would think it was just an accident.

  He would cut the front and rear brake lines on Palmer’s car later tonight. Houston was a city with relatively flat terrain, except on freeway ramps. Palmer had to take the freeway to go to work every day, and getting on and off Houston’s freeways would require that he go up steep inclines and onto downhill ramps.

  Bubba had already cased Palmer’s house and vehicle. Once he’d met with Ed at Fuddrucker’s a few weeks ago, he figured he’d eventually get the call. That was how Ed usually handled things. If Ed told Bubba he had a problem that might need fixin’, he’d always call him within a few days with the go ahead.

  Palmer parked his car on the street in front of his house. His wife parked her car in the driveway or the garage. Once Palmer left home for the office, or to any destination, his brakes would fail. Depending on how fast he was going, he wouldn’t be able to stop and would experience a head-on collision with another vehicle or a cement barrier.

  Palmer’s vehicle might even careen over the side of the ramp, crash onto the cement pavement below, and burst into flames. Then there would be very little evidence for the cops to examine. There could be some collateral damage, but when it came to keeping the niggers in line, Bubba’s attitude was that sometimes a few people had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

  Bubba gulped down the last of his beer, belched, leaned back in his lounge chair, and picked up the T.V. remote control. He kept channel surfing until he landed on a professional basketball game and began watching it.

  Those coons ought to just stick to sports and entertainment where they belonged, Bubba thought. If they’d just stay in their place, he wouldn’t have to take these kinds of actions. If only they’d stay in their place.

  311

  Gwen Richardson

  CHAPTER 44

  Audrey had Charles’ cell phone number because she sometimes had to contact the reporters after normal working hours. She had thought about what she was going to say to him and thought it would be best to just get to the point quickly. She was hoping he would believe her and would tell her what to do. Audrey was clueless, and frightened.

  Ed wasn’t the most sociable guy at the Ledger, especially where the black employees were concerned. But Audrey never imagined he would be capable of something like this. She’d seen this sort of thing happen in the movies and on the news, but she thought the kind of extreme measures Ed was discussing on the phone were relics of the past. Yet, the Pauley kidnapping had given her a dose of reality.

  Mrs. Pauley joined a long line of other criminals who had committed heinous acts and pointed the finger at black men: Susan Smith of South Carolina, who drowned her two sons in a lake, then claimed she was carjacked by a black man who stole her car and her children.

  Bonnie Sweeten of Pennsylvania, who claimed she was abducted by two black men and, a few days later, was found in Disney World with her daughter. Charles Stuart, a Massachusetts man who shot himself and killed his pregnant wife for the insurance money, then blamed it on a black man.

  Audrey’s hands shook as she selected Charles from among her contacts and pressed send. When he answered, she heard loud music and voices in the background. It sounded like he was either at a party or the bar that was one of Charles’ regular hangouts.

  “Hello, Charles?”

  “Yeah, you’ve got him. Who’s this?” Charles said, putting his finger in his right ear in an attempt to hear the caller.

  “Charles, this is Audrey from the office. I really need to talk to you. Can you hear me?”

  “Audrey? From the office? Wow, I can’t remember the last time you called. Let me go outside so I can hear better,” Charles said, as he walked toward the entrance to the bar he had gone to for happy hour. Once he got outside, he gave the phone call his full attention.

  “What’s up, Audrey? It must be something important for you to call me.”

  “Charles, I’m really scared and I need your help.”

  Charles was puzzled. He’d had very few one-on-one conversations with Audrey, and they certainly weren’t close friends. “What happened, Audrey? Talk to me.”

  “Lloyd’s in danger, Charles. And I could be in danger, too, if anyone finds out.”

  Now Charles was beginning to understand. He knew Audrey had a thing for Lloyd, but he didn’t think

  she’d take it this far, and he didn’t want to do anything to encourage her. “Audrey, what is this a
ll about? If you’re trying to use me to get close to Lloyd, it won’t work. He’s already told you he’s happily married.”

  “This isn’t about me trying to hook up with Lloyd, Charles. Ed set some sort of plan in motion for Lloyd to be hurt. I would call Lloyd myself, but he’d never believe me. But if you call him, he’ll take it seriously.”

  “Ed? Are you talking about Ed Jackson, our boss?”

  “You’re damned right I’m talking about Ed Jackson. I was working late at the office, and I overheard him talking on the phone to somebody.

  “I’m not sure who it was, but I distinctly heard him say that he didn’t want Lloyd killed. He just wanted to scare him so he would back off.”

  “I left the office in a hurry,” continued Audrey, “quietly, but in a hurry—before Ed knew I was still there. Oh, my God, Charles, what are we going to do?”

  “Are you sure you heard it right, Audrey? Maybe you misunderstood.”

  “Charles, how could I misunderstand a thing like that? Ed mentioned Lloyd by name. He wasn’t talking

  about something he saw on television. He was giving whoever was on the other end of the phone instructions on how to handle things, and he said to make sure it looked like an accident.

  “He also said that he wanted whatever was planned to happen soon. Charles, we’ve got to do something.”

  Charles still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that Ed and Lloyd’s relationship had deteriorated ever since the Pauley kidnapping, but was Ed capable of violence? Would he take his anger to the level of potentially hiring a contract killer or a muscle man? Charles had worked at the Ledger for more than five years and he hadn’t seen that side of Ed.

  But Audrey was clearly disturbed; in fact, he’d never known her to be so agitated about anything. Around the office, she was all smiles and rarely seemed rattled. With all of the pressure the reporters and staff experienced as news deadlines approached, Audrey could always be depended upon to be as cool as a cucumber.

  “Okay, Audrey. If I assume you’re telling me the truth, then I have to think about what to do next. We need to warn Lloyd, but you have to give me something credible so he’ll believe us.

  “I hate to say this, but it would probably have been best if it had been anybody except you who overheard the conversation. Lloyd is going to be very skeptical, and I can’t blame him.”

  “Believe me, I wish somebody else had overheard it too. Right now, I’m afraid for Lloyd and for me too. Charles, I’m afraid to go home. What if Ed finds out I was

  working late today? What if he heard me when I left the office? What if he saw me driving away from the building?” Audrey was hyperventilating.

  “Okay, Audrey. Don’t panic. That’s more what-ifs than we could possibly answer right now. Let me think for a second.”

  Charles contemplated Audrey’s dilemma. The first thing he had to do was make sure she was safe. “Do you have a friend you can spend the night with tonight until we can get this all sorted out?”

  “I can call my girlfriend, Tangela, and she’ll let me stay at her house. But I really don’t want to get anyone else involved in this. Should I tell her what’s going on?”

  “Absolutely not. That would be too dangerous. Just make up a story—something like there’s a problem with your air conditioner or your water pressure’s not working, and you can’t take a shower. This is just a precaution anyway, since you don’t think Ed knows you overheard his phone call. That way, you will at least feel safe until tomorrow.”

  Charles paused, thinking about how Audrey might react to seeing Ed at work the next day. “And maybe you should call in sick in the morning, just to be on the safe side. There’s no way you would be able to act normal around Ed after this, and if you are nervous or acting weird, he might get suspicious.”

  “Okay, but Charles, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I have to warn Lloyd, but I have to think of the best approach. Be sure to keep your cell phone handy, and I’ll either call you or text you.”

  Audrey sensed that Charles was apprehensive, and she wanted something done right away. She couldn’t put her life on hold, and, as far as she was concerned, Ed Jackson should be in jail. “When will I hear from you, Charles? How long will I have to wait?”

  “It shouldn’t be long. I need to talk to Lloyd, but I want to meet with him face to face. I don’t know if dropping by his house unannounced is a good idea, and I don’t want to go into too much detail over the phone. After all, if what you say is true, his house and his phone lines may be monitored.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Audrey, “so I guess I’ll wait to hear from you. Do you want my friend’s address?”

  “Not for now. It’s probably better that no one knows where you are, including me. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “Thanks for handling this, Charles. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to reach you. Bye.”

  Audrey ended the phone call, then went to her apartment so she could pack an overnight bag. It was going to be a long night.

  311

  Gwen Richardson

  CHAPTER 45

  Charles was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the bar where he’d been when Audrey called. He knew he had to contact Lloyd tonight. If Audrey was right, there was little time to spare. Ed’s accomplice might have already set his plan in motion.

  Charles wished Audrey had more details so he would know what to tell Lloyd to expect. But, based on Audrey’s account, Ed seemed to prefer to be kept in the dark about the sinister plot. Then he’d have what politicians, mobsters and lawyers called “plausible deniability.” Even under interrogation, Ed wouldn’t be able to help the authorities, except to reveal the identity of his accomplice. And the chances he would do so were virtually nil since he wouldn’t risk incriminating himself in the process.

  The first priority was to inform Lloyd without alarming his wife, Stephanie. It was already after nine o’clock, and Charles knew Lloyd usually went to bed at about eleven. He decided to text Lloyd in hopes that his cell phone was nearby.

  I need you to meet me at Charlie’s Bar in Jersey Village in thirty minutes. Very important.

  Charles sent the text and hoped for a quick response. He was in the throes of putting together a Plan B, in case Lloyd didn’t answer, when a reply came back.

  It’s late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning?

  Charles pecked out: No it can’t. I need you to meet me NOW. A matter of life and death, but keep it between us. Don’t tell Stephanie. He was pretty sure the message would get Lloyd out the door and into his car.

  OMG. Okay. I’m on my way.

  Tense, nervous, confounded. Charles was experiencing all of these emotions and more. It would take Lloyd about twenty minutes to get there if he left right after he got the text message. Charles decided to go inside and get another drink to calm his nerves. The buzz he had before Audrey called had worn off completely.

  He sat at the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks, which he gulped down quickly, and ordered another. He’d better slow down, he thought. If he was visibly inebriated when Lloyd arrived, then he’d never be able to convince him that this was real.

  Charles could hardly believe it himself. His profession as a reporter had taught him to be skeptical. Yet his gut reaction was that Audrey was telling the truth. Apparently, Ed felt sufficiently threatened by Lloyd’s elevated stature that he was willing to go to great lengths to silence him. Incredible, simply incredible.

  The first thing Charles had to do was convince Lloyd the threat was real. This would be no small feat with Audrey involved.

  Then they’d have to figure out what he could do for protection, which wouldn’t be easy either since they had no idea of the nature of the threat. It could come from anywhere.

  After that they would need proof of Ed’s involvement, proof which really didn’t exist. Their only proof would be uncovered if there was an att
empt on Lloyd’s life or some sort of freak accident happened. Which meant Lloyd might have to serve himself up as bait.

  A man like Ed Jackson could no longer be allowed to run a first-class operation like the Houston Ledger. Charles would do everything he could to make sure Ed went to jail—the sooner, the better.

  311

  Gwen Richardson

  CHAPTER 46

  Charles kept his eyes focused on the bar’s front door so he could see Lloyd the minute he walked in. He continued to nurse his scotch on the rocks, gulping some down, circling his index finger along the top rim of the glass, then picking up the glass and swirling around its contents. He finally drained his glass and decided to order just one more.

  Just as the bartender placed his refill on the bar counter, Lloyd arrived. Charles waved him over to the bar, and Lloyd walked over and sat down on the barstool beside him.

  Lloyd had a look of utter frustration on his face. “This had better be good. Stephanie wasn’t too happy about me going out to a bar on a weeknight. Since you didn’t want me to tell her about the situation, I just said I was meeting you here because we had something to talk about. She didn’t say anything, but the vibe she was putting out said it all.”

  Charles took another gulp of scotch. He needed some liquid courage. “Lloyd, I don’t know exactly how to break this to you, but I’m pretty sure you’re in some sort of danger. You may need to leave town for a few days.”

  “Whoa . . . wait a minute. What are you talking about? Charles, how many drinks have you had since you’ve been sitting here?”

  “I’m dead serious, Lloyd. I’ve had a couple of drinks, but I’m not drunk. As a matter of fact, I could use a couple more,” said Charles, as he motioned to the bartender.

  “You need to be more specific, Charles. Exactly what kind of danger?”

  Charles swallowed hard. “I think Ed hired someone to hurt you, to scare you off.”