Showdown
There wasn’t much I could do except to finish what I went there to do in the first place. I walked away from the window to go back downstairs, literally. I took the stairs from the fifth to the lower levels, and all the way down I was gaining in daring or desperation, I haven’t learned to tell the difference yet, and by the time I reached the first floor I was ready for a fight. I pushed open the stairway door, strutted up the hallway towards the reception room, and walked directly into the boardroom. All the faces looked up, surprised to see me barge in like I did; they had started their board meeting early, as they had before. The CEO, Hal Ostrander, said, “Mr. Smith, I presume? You’re early.” I looked at my watch and said, “Oh, yes. I’m early. I’m sorry for that; my watch has been running ahead of me. I didn’t mean to interfere with your meeting.” I looked around the room and saw the look of people who didn’t recognize me as Mr. Smith, but instead as the face recently broadcast on all the television sets in Lovely, instead. I also spotted the lone woman in purple, sitting half way down the members to my right. She was also surprised to see me, I could tell.
“I need to apologize to the board. As you can see, I’m not wearing my glasses or a wig or a beard today. I am Mr. Smith, who came to you with a company problem recently. Actually, my real name isn’t John Smith. I still prefer to remain anonymous, and if anybody asks about the man resembling John Smith, please say he was never here.”
This confused the board; they all knew who I was but that didn’t matter because I didn’t want to explain myself any further to them. I focused on the one board member who I felt I knew, who was a member of another board, and said, “I didn’t really have much to say today, except to give you an update on the situation with Susan Lovely and… the issue we spoke about in the last meeting.” Looking around the room, I only saw confusion and heard silence from the members, who were trying to make sense out of what I’d just said.
I continued, “Okay, that’s all I had to say, except… I’m going to go and visit the little boy’s room right now. I still need to meet with some high upper-ups here, but first I’m going to hit the ‘john’ just like… the last time I was here. I hope I can meet with the people I need to meet with.” I said this slowly and deliberately as I was looking at her, her eyes being glued to mine; she didn’t flinch or say a word but looked almost frightened. “Don’t worry,” I thought, “I’m not going to rat you out in front of all these board members; it’s just that I need to see you as soon as possible.” I hoped she could read my rushed and confused mind.
I stepped back out into the reception area and walked down the hallway towards the workroom floor. I saw policemen coming from the outside towards the main entrance, and I pushed the entrance door open and walked into the work area next to the workers and conveyor belts as though I belonged there, and headed straight for the men’s room. I pushed open the men’s room door, walked through the little locker room, back to the row of stalls, and went to the middle stall, just as I had the last time, and I shut and locked the door, just like before. This time I was standing, however. Whatever the future held, I’d meet it standing up.
I waited in the men’s room and looked at my watch. It was almost 2:00, and I was still looking at it when five, then ten minutes, ticked by. I could hear a lot of commotion out on the workroom floor; the cops must have been casing the joint looking for me. They won’t have a very hard time finding me; I’ll bet at least 100 workroom floor employees saw me duck in here.
The men’s room door opened and people came filing in. They were quiet, too quiet; maybe they were policemen with guns drawn. They wouldn’t know that I wasn’t armed on the inside of this stall; they could fill it full of lead before I was able to say anything. What a way to meet the end, dying in a hail of bullets in the middle stall of the men’s room. Dick Tracy used to refer to that as the ”hot-lead exit.”
Feet gathered around the stall, including a pair of women’s purple shoes, then the lights went out.
“Senior Owen?” a Spanish-accented voice asked.
“Si?” I said, before realizing I was speaking Spanish.
“You have information for us?”
“Yes, if you’re who I think you are. Is ‘Agent Huebner’ with you?”
“I’m here,” said a familiar voice. “My name’s not really ‘Huebner,’ by the way.”
“That’s okay; I don’t want to know who you are. I have information which I think you’ll want to hear.”
“We’re all ears, Mr. Owen.”
I had to talk quickly. “Before the cops haul me away, I need to tell you this: That Dr. Burke had nothing to do with the death of Cornelius Lovely, and that he had nothing to do with the stealing of Susan Lovely’s inheritance, and I think any romance between the two has been broken.”
“Jah, Herr Owen. Now you haff told us that,” said the east German voice, slipping into his own natural accent. “How do ve know you are telling us the truth?”
“Because Dr. Burke told me that Cornelius Lovely died of natural causes, of advanced old age,” I said.
There was a moment of silence, and a little murmuring, so I said, “He was a millionaire chocolate maker before any of you were born!"
“Si, what you say is true,” said the Italian voice. “We knew he was not long for this world; however, it was hard for us since we regarded him somewhat as a father figure.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was hard for you,” I offered. “But he was Dr. Burke's patient, and the only thing he could do was to make him comfortable and keep him pain-free with morphine.”
“Tell me, how do you know all of this, Mr. Owen?” said the low-speaking woman’s British-accented voice, who was fooling nobody.
“Dr. Burke has been staying at my house for the past month; we’ve had plenty of time to talk. He’s innocent of stealing any money.”
There was some murmuring, and then silence, when a voice asked, “If he didn’t take it, who did?”
“I know who did, but I don’t want to tell you about it.”
“You need to tell us all you know, Mr. Owen.”
“I’ll let him tell you, himself.” I took the small battery out of my pocket and placed it back into the cell phone, hoping it was fully charged. I dialed Walter’s cell phone, also hoping he’d pick up.
“Hello, Randall?” he answered.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m going to place you on speakerphone, do you understand?”
“Speakerphone? Why?” asked Walter.
“Because there are people here who need to hear what you have to say.”
“Well, if you’re going to put me on speakerphone, I’m going to do the same with you.”
At that point, we put each other on speakerphone.
“Are these good people, or are they bad people?” asked Walter.
I heard a few chuckles outside the stall.
“These are people who are interested in the truth,” I said.
“Do I need to swear on a Bible?” asked Walter, with a straight voice.
“No, this isn’t a court setting,” I said, assuring him.
“Oh, you’re with those people. Okay, I’ll talk.”
“Now, I haven’t said your name. They don’t know who you are. They only want to know what you did, concerning the inheritance of Susan Lovely.”
“Oh, no problem! I stole it!”
“No, you didn’t steal it.”
“That’s right,” said Walter. I ‘borrowed’ it.”
“Ask him how he did it!” said the Spanish voice.
“Did you hear that?”
“I heard it,” said Walter. I held the cell phone straight up, so it’s light at least could be viewed, and Walter spoke louder, so as to be heard by all, “I intercepted the funds when they were being transferred from Old Man Lovely’s account to Susan’s account. I had all the bank and account numbers; it was nothing for me to set my computer on ‘intercept’ mode, and wait. I was asleep when the transaction took place!” Obviously, Wal
ter was proud of his work.
“Ask him where the money is now!” said the Italian voice.
“Did you hear that?” I asked.
“Yes. I routed some of it to the Cayman Islands, some of it to a Swiss bank account, some of it to offshore accounts, and some of to Chinese and Russian banks. I had to break it all up so it wouldn’t look too suspicious.”
“Bring him in,” said the British voice.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said. “However, let me assure you that his motive wasn’t stealing… would you tell the audience why you purloined the funds?”
“Yes, I’ll tell them. But first of all, I’ll tell them my name. I’m Walter Dale, technicians expert. And I don’t ‘steal’ anything; when I want something, I pay for it!”
The voices got a little restless, as though they were confused. Some sounded angry.
“Walter, tell them why you did it.”
“I did it because Dr. Burke was getting involved with a rich girl who wasn’t his wife, so I wanted to make her look less desirable to him, so I ‘borrowed,’ heavy emphasis on the ‘borrowed,’ the money. I had and have every intention of giving it back!”
In the background, the voice of Dr. Franklin Burke was heard to say, “First you blew up my car and then you stole Susan’s money?”
Walter’s voice replied, “No, first I borrowed Susan’s money, then I blew up your car!”
The deep voiced woman asked, “Why did he blow up Dr. Burke’s car?”
I replied, “Because he knew you were going to kill him, and he got to the doctor first! He made it look as though he’d been killed by somebody, giving him time to disappear.”
“And they’ve been hiding at your house ever since?” asked the woman’s voice.
“Yes, I’ve been keeping them there. But let me add one more thing, an answer to the third point I brought up.”
“Yes, Herr Owen?” said the east German.
“Dr. Burke has been through a lot these past few weeks even though he’s innocent of murder, and innocent of stealing. His only real crime is that he allowed himself to become involved with a woman who has since thrown him over. Have you been watching the local news?”
“Jah, ve haf been following the reports of Miss Darla Bell ov KDBC; oh, baby!” giggled the east German.
“Heinrich!” said the woman’s voice.
“No names!” added a Russian voice.
“It seems that Susan Lovely has transferred her affections from Dr. Burke to her pool boy, Julio,” said a very British-sounding voice.
“It’s doubtful that Susan Lovely was ever serious about Dr. Burke, given how she was so quick to believe his guilt. However, he is innocent,” I said. “Furthermore, Dr. Burke has been receiving marital counseling for the past few weeks, and he and his wife have been making good progress.”
“I would say those are points in his favor,” said the Italian voice. “However, will he become involved with Susan Lovely anytime in the future?”
“No. No, I’m through with Susan,” said the doctor’s voice. “I was a fool. I’ve failed my wife and kids. I’m sorry.”
There was a little murmuring among the men. The Caribbean voice said, “Me next!” and the other male voices laughed. The British voice replied to the Caribbean, “Sorry, old chap, you’re too late. Julio is one of us.”
“Silence!” said the deep-voiced woman.
Then she spoke again. “What of the money? Can this Walter Dale replace the lost inheritance to Susan Lovely?”
“That’s a 10-4, big sister!” said Walter’s voice. “Give me five minutes!”
“Five minutes? Who has a watch?” asked the Spanish voice.
“I’ve got one,” I said.
“Your friend has five minutes. ‘Agent Belken,’ check the accounts.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said ‘Agent Belken.’ Then I heard noises which sounded like a revolver being cocked.
“What’s that noise?” I asked.
“It’s my laptop computer being opened up,” said ‘Agent Belken.’ Then more sounds followed, the sound of the beep of a computer being turned on.
There were noises coming from my cell phone as well, the sound of a heavy door opening and slamming, of a quick run, and the beep-beep of an automatic vehicle key starting and unlocking a recreational vehicle. I supposed that Walter needed his motorhome running to power his computers.
“Vell, Herr Owen,” said Heinrich. It seems we have five minutes to kill. I am curious. Tell me, why did you come here for Dr. Burke?”
It got quiet. I needed to tell the truth in a convincing manner here; these people would be able to tell if I was lying or not. “The truth is, gentlemen… many years ago I was in love with Dr. Burke’s wife, before they married. When I heard that she was in trouble, I set about to help. I did what I could and failed with most of it, but I’ve learned that I cared about the plight of their children and … since then, I’ve become friends with Dr. Franklin Burke as well. I came here because he is my friend.”
It remained quiet. I could hear the deep-voiced woman sob. Heinrich finally spoke. “Very admirable, Herr Owen. I’m not sure many of us would have done the same.”
“We’re here to make good,” I said. “To make peace. To try to set straight all we’ve done. To ask for mercy.”
I heard the computer beep again, and ‘Agent Belken’ said, “All funds have been restored to the Susan Lovely account.”
I heard the sighs of relief. I sighed as well. I think some of the voices had seen things my way.
“Step outside of the stall, Herr Owen,” said the east German.
“Yes. I will. It’s a little dark; give me a moment.”
Someone turned the lights on. I came out of the stall, with my eyes shut and face toward the floor. I didn’t want to see any faces in case my eyes opened.
“Come mitt us, Herr Owen.”
I felt myself being led out of the men’s restroom. I supposed that they were going to turn me over to the police, since now I was a liability to them and the Lovely Chocolate Company. At least I hoped that’s what they’d do!
Firewall
We all filed out of the men’s room and back onto the workroom floor, where the sounds of rushing feet were heard. “You can look up, Mr. Owen,” said ‘Agent Huebner.’ “You need to see where you’re going.” I looked up to see the workers all exiting towards the front of the building, creating a running sea of people pouring out the doors. They were carrying equipment, like hammers, tools, buckets, anything that would take up room and space and cause noise and confusion. Then someone pulled an alarm, and the confusion only got louder, and more workers poured toward the exit and to the hallway and reception room area, which was packed with people pushing and yelling at each other.
There I was, surrounded by men whom I didn’t know, and they were taking me in that same general direction, out of the workroom and into the hallway which connected to the reception room. The men weren’t allowing me to walk freely by myself; I was hemmed in on all sides by them. “Keep your head down, Mr. Owen,” said ‘Agent Huebner.’ “You might be seen by the police, and we wouldn’t want that.” I ducked low so as to not be seen by the blue sea of policemen who had poured into the reception area. I heard voices yelling at each other, and one was a voice I recognized, chairman of the board Hal Ostrander, who was saying, “I don’t care if you were sent here by the mayor. This is private property, and unless you can produce a search warrant, you have no right to be here. Look at what this is going to cost us!” I guessed he was referring to the workers leaving their posts. I heard the voice of Lieutenant Bond saying something about finding the murderer of Cornelius Lovely, but by that time I was in the stairwell being hustled up the stairs, probably heading to the executive offices. Since I wasn’t being turned over to the police, I began to wonder what exactly was going to be done with me. Maybe I’d be murdered and shipped out as little pieces in boxes of chocolate. Oh well, it had been a good life, and I had resigned m
yself to my punishment. Everybody dies, and I began to hope for a quick and painless death.
We kept going up the stairs, and by the time we got to the fifth floor, I thought, “This is it!” All I could hear was my own breathing and felt my heartbeat pounding, and I looked hard into my own life. Maybe they’ll kill me and stick my body in a janitor’s closet with a mop over my head until the cops left; even so, Lord Jesus, here I come! Then I saw that we had bypassed the fifth floor, and were headed up to the ceiling, where I’d be thrown to my death. On the other hand, five floors wasn’t really that high; if I landed in a tree or a bush, maybe I’d survive. Hopefully they wouldn’t shoot me on my way down.
We reached the top of the building, and all of us poured out onto the ceiling top, all the feet who were in the men’s room meeting, including the purple lady from the board of directors. Someone had evidently called a fire alarm in the building, or called in a bomb scare, which was all I could figure at the moment since there were all kinds of emergency vehicles down in the parking lot. Maybe I would be blown up or set on fire and be given an ambulance ride with a police escort to the morgue. But there were too many suits standing around me for a bomb, and so far no one had come forth to do me in.
I finally spoke up, “Is this where it happens? Is this where I get it?”
The lady from the board of directors looked at me, now speaking in her normal voice and saying, “Nothing is happening, Mr. Owen. You’re not going to get it. We’re trying to get you out of here. We don’t want you caught by the authorities.”
I was puzzled at this and said “Why? Don’t you want to punish me for all I’ve done, for what I’ve cost you and the company?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Owen,” she said. “You’ve done nothing to hurt us. You’ve only helped us.”
I stopped looking around and said, “How so?”
“You see,” she started, “After our first meeting with you, we took a vote and decided that killing wasn’t the way to solve business practices anymore.”
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“Nein, Herr Owen,” said Heinrich. That’s against our by-laws now. We’re a reformed cartel and haff turned over the new leaf, thanks to you!”
The Lovely Chocolate Mob Page 26
