“Well then, at this time, I’d like to turn this meeting over to Mr. Crawford, who I believe can help break this impasse, this stalemate.” Clayton stood and cleared his throat.
“Let me say Mark, that first of all, I’m only doing this because you refuse to bend. You could, if you wanted to, build your office complex around Mrs. Rhodes building. It may not fit in with your architectural designs, but it would and could work. Now I realize you have the power to do just about anything you please. But if you go through with this plan to steal her restaurant from her, it won’t be without heavy costs to your company image.”
“What are you talking about? I’m stealing nothing. I have offered the lady almost 3 times what the property is worth. She just refuses to sell. I have only one alternative, and that is to take it. She leaves me no choice.”
“Before we go any further with this, let me show you this new plan of action we developed,” Clayton said, as he opened the large folder in front of him. I have here three posters I had made up. The first one is really a dandy. It reads DOWN WITH THE DOWNING ENTERPRISES. The second one is as nice as the first. It reads JUSTICE FOR MAMA RHODES. The third is really my favorite. It reads HONK YOUR HORN FOR MAMA RHODES. As you can see they are all quite large. Three posterboards and all in large block letters are easier to read. Furthermore, I am prepared and have a printer lined up and ready to print out thousands of these, and I fully intend to paper the entire city with them. Handbills also, brief leaflets slipped into the newspapers.”
“How do you propose to do all this on your own?”
“Oh, I’m not alone on this one at all. I have the Boy Scouts of America backing me up and a major newspaper said that they would be glad to get in on the act. Said it was good copy material, whatever that means. Now Mark, I know you didn’t go into this venture alone. You have financial backers. Could it be just me, or they are getting nervous over all this bad publicity you’ve been getting? Could it be that they might be thinking about pulling out and leaving you holding the bag? Listen, I can almost hear car horns blowing and honking all over the city, as soon as these posters hit the street. They will be on every corner, in the neighborhood theaters and they will be in the restaurants and shopping malls. They will be in every store window, any gas station. They will be everywhere you look, I promise you. Why I can see concerned citizens picketing your different businesses. Hell, maybe even a strike or two.”
“Okay, okay,” Mark said. “After this is all over, I want you to come work for me, Clayton.” Then turning to Evelyn, “what would it take to get you to sell your restaurant?”
“I want $15 million for it and not a penny less,” she answered in a determined, somewhat hard voice.
Both Clayton and Rachel turned their heads and stared at Evelyn in deep shock at her reply.
“That’s outrageous,” Mark shot back. “That’s unreal.” I have offered $5 million and that was a very generous offer. Three times what the place is worth. But $15 million is ridiculous and out of the question.”
“Then, make me an offer I can live with,” she said. “I gave you mine. Now it’s time to get serious.”
Clayton sat back in his chair too dumbfounded to speak. Was this the same defenseless woman who said she couldn’t handle all these big business matters alone? Who had needed his help and encouragement every step of the way? She was coming on like a tiger, all pretexts of a helpless elderly lady gone. In its place was this cold, calculating, conniving business woman.
“I’ll give you $7 million and that, lady, is my final offer. Take it or leave it, what’s it to be?” Mark stated with a set jaw.
“I will settle for $10 million,” she countered.
“Not a chance lady, but to make sure we wrap this up today, I’ll give you $8 million, and that is it.”
“$8.5 million and I’m long gone.”
“Is that a promise?” Mark asked.
“Cut me a check. I’ll sign some papers, and I’m out the door.”
Clayton shook his head in amazement. “You were going to sell right from the beginning, weren’t you?”
“Of course, I was just holding out for more money. Then you and this pretty young miss came along and really sweetened the pot for me. I’ll always be grateful for that.”
“What about Tag and the others? The ones who have been with you for years from the day you opened the business.”
“They all made a decent living while they were with me. And besides, I never planned to adopt them. You realize, I have taken Tag along with me. She would make a good companion. She has young ones at home and I can’t stand kids. The trouble with you, Clayton, is that you are too naïve and really don’t know how these things work. Does he Mark?”
Mark, chuckling, made out the check and handed it to Evelyn. “You outfoxed us all lady, I got to hand it to you. You’re a real pro. It’s a good thing you don’t have a trophy room or heads would be stuffed and mounted on the walls.”
After the meeting Clayton broke away from the others to call Frank Wellington.
“This is Clayton, we have to talk. How about I drive out to the estate tonight? It’s pretty important, and it’s more private out there than in your office in town.”
“Sure thing, but what is it about?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there. What about 8 o’clock, would that be all right?”
Then Clayton called Henry to let him know that he would not be needed that night. Clayton told him he was driving out to have a private talk with Frank at the Wellington Estate.
When he arrived porch lights were on and after he rang the bell, Morris came to the door. “Yes sir,” he said in his greeting to Clayton. “Mr. Wellington is in his study and is expecting you.”
Frank was standing in front of the open French doors that lead out into the flower garden his wife had so dearly loved. Dressed in slacks, a white silk shirt and a dinner jacket, he greeted Clayton with a genuine smile and a firm handshake.
“Now what’s so important and what’s all this mystery about? No wait, first, let’s have a drink. We will drink to you and me to the bond that ties us together.” Frank had been drinking, but wasn’t drunk. “Let’s drink to…”
“I know about the contract Frank,” Clayton interrupted. “The contract that’s before the House and the Senate. The contract in which you are a major better. The arms contract. I know that the Senate committee is chaired by none other than Senator Paul Harding.”
Frank just stood there for a moment silent in his thoughts, then turned and gazed out at the night sky with the stars and the moon shining brightly overhead.
“After you two broke up, and you returned to California, Michelle went absolutely crazy wild. I couldn’t do anything with her. It wasn’t her anymore. It was all those damn drugs she was on. Anyway, I called Paul. I knew him from way back and thought if I could get him to give her a job on his staff, she might straighten up.”
“The arms contract that was before the Senate didn’t have anything to do with you, planting your daughter on the Senator, who just happened to be chairing the board of government contracts.”
Frank didn’t look back at Clayton but quietly walked out into the beautiful manicured garden. In the trees overhead, the night birds were starting to sing their songs.
“Dammit, Frank, answer me,” Clayton demanded.
“I won’t lie to you, that may have had something to do with it, but it was mostly for her to try and straighten out.”
“You told her to keep her eyes and ears open, to watch and see if she could find out anything about the Senator, you could use to pressure him into awarding you that contract, didn’t you?”
“No, I had no…”
“Don’t lie to me, Frank, you used your own daughter to do your dirty work, didn’t you?”
“No, I…”
“Don’t lie, Frank, I know you did.”
“All right, all right, but I didn’t know, I had no idea it could end like this. I’m telling you, it was an acc
ident that took her life, pure and simple.”
“I don’t think so, Frank. She found something out there that put her in danger. I don’t know what it was, perhaps we will never know. Whatever it was, they killed her for it.”
“That’s absurd. He’s a senator of the United States, for God sakes.”
“You can deny until the cows come home and it won’t change anything. You were in transit on your way back home so she could tell you it must have been hell for her. those last few days. Afraid to go to work, they could tell by her actions that she knew whatever it was. And if she stayed away, they would suspect that she knew that way to. She was caught between a rock and hard place. She had to wait until you got home before she could tell you. Well, she ran out of time, they killed her on the day your plane landed.”
“It all fits Frank. First, she’s killed in a car crash, then Stephen Driscoll, who was making noise all over town that she was murdered. He disappears without a trace. Weeks later, his car is found in some little town in Arkansas just a burned out wreck. Then I make a few phone calls and get the shit kicked out of me as a warning to get out of town. Three weeks in the hospital for my trouble.”
Frank sat down heavily on a nearby bench. Clayton sat beside him, his hand on Frank’s shoulder.
“The thing is, there isn’t a lick of proof. What I’m going to do is confront the Senator and his aid. I’m going to tell them what I just told you, really shake their tree and see what falls out. I only hope they send those two goons again. I’ll be ready for them this time.”
“What do I do? What am I supposed to do now? Everything you say sounds right. I just can’t believe it. It’s too, too far out, I guess.”
“Do nothing Frank. I’ll take care of things from here on out.”
Clayton left the estate through the front door across the wide porch and down the steps, to the white gravel drive, to his car. He opened the door and slid behind the steering wheel, buckled his seat belt, then felt the hard steel of a gun muzzle pressed against the back of his head.
“Drive, or you’re a dead man, right here and now.”
“Is that you Howie? How nice to see you again.”
“Just drive as hole and cut the gab, or I’ll kill you right now. Then I’d have to do Frank too, right? So drive.”
Clayton started the car and went down the long driveway and out into the street.
Once on the street, Clayton noticed a white van that was pulled off onto the shoulder. As they passed the van, it swung out into the road, just behind them.
“I suppose that is Stanley, huh, Howie. He is the second part of this act.”
“Keep your mouth shut Slick, or I will shut it permanently. You dig?” Howie said as he jabbed the muzzle of his gun hard to the back of Clayton’s head.
“Okay, Howie. Now is my chance to see just what you’re made of,” Clayton said as he picked up speed on the narrow mountain road.
“Hey, slow down, asshole, you’re going too fast.”
“Shit, this is nothing Howie, this baby was made for these curved roads. Watch I’ll show you,” he said as the car swerved around the first bend. Still picking up speed Clayton gave it a little more gas, as the tires screamed around a little sharper bend than the one before.
“Slow this thing down, now. What you trying to do? Slow it down. Damn you! I will blow your brains all over the windshield. I swear.”
“Go ahead, shoot, and we both go out in a blaze of glory.”
The car squealed around another curve only this time it skidded a little, and the rear tires hit the loose gravel on the narrow shoulder throwing sand and gravel from behind.
“I’ll kill you for this,” Howie shouted as he leaned forward over the front seat to grab the car keys from the ignition. Bang. The sharp report of the pistol went off just behind Clayton’s ear. Clayton reached over and grabbed Howie by the hair of his head and yanked him forward over the center console and smashed his face hard into the dashboard instrument panel. Four, five times, splitting and breaking his nose, gashing his face open and knocking him out cold.
Suddenly there was another curve, but this time, sharper yet. Clayton slammed on his brakes and the car went into a violent slide and slammed into the side of the huge rock on the side of the road. Completely out of control, the car careened off a giant tree of some sort, fishtailing wildly. It skidded sideways, 20 or 30 feet before coming to a stop in a small drainage ditch, almost tipping over.
“Kowabunga!” Clayton shouted as he shook his head up and down, his hair standing on end and eyes as big as saucers. “What a ride Howie, you want to do it again?”
Clayton quickly looked around, He had somehow made a complete turn-about and was facing the way he came down. He couldn’t see the van coming at all. He left it in his speed a while ago. He glanced over the see Howie, who was disoriented, with his eyes swelling shut and his face broken and bleeding. Howie was in a whole lot of pain, with snot and blood, mixed with his tears, streaming down his face. No threat from that quarter.
Clayton started the car again and the four-wheel-drive kicked in as it sprung out of the ditch and raced back up the road. Presently Clayton could see the glow of headlights coming towards him. “Hold on to something Howie, because there’s going to be one hell of a crash.”
Clayton set his jaw and bore down on the gas as the headlights came into full view. Faster, they sped toward each other in a life or death race to see who would be the first to turn out of the way. Clayton was counting on his airbags and wondered if the van had any. Then in the last second, Stanley lost his nerve and swerved out of the way of the oncoming car. The van left the road, hit a large boulder and careened off an outcropping of rocks, hit a drainage ditch and lost control completely. The van did a 360 degree skid and rolled on its side across the narrow twisting road, off into a 300 foot drop straight down to a dry creek bed below.
Clayton slammed on his brakes and skidded to a stop. Now for some answers, he thought to himself,f as he got out of the car and went around to the side door. He yanked Howie from the backseat. He threw him hard up against the side of the car, as he grabbed him by the collar bone and with a vice-like grip, until Howie went down on his knees from the horrendous pain.
“Who sent you Howie, who do you work for? Tell me, or I will rip your collar bone right out of your shoulder. Tell me now.” Clayton screamed.
“It was Lester Howard, we work for Lester.”
“Why?” Clayton applied more pressure.
“You’re getting too close. Please, no more, please.”
“Too close to what, did he kill Michelle?”
“Yes, he did. Michelle, she found out about them. No more please. Oh God, please, no more.”
“Them, who’s them? She found out what?”
“Lester and the Senator, Lester in the Senator.”
“What about them, bastard?”
“They are lovers, have been for years.”
“What part did you and Stanley play in all of this?”
“Hardly none. We pushed her over the side, that’s all. She was already dead. I swear it.”
“Why did you come after me, whose orders?”
“It was Lester, he just wanted to scare you off at first, but that didn’t work.”
More pressure was added to the collarbone and Howie screamed in pain.
“Does the Senator know about any of this? Is he involved in it at all?”
“He knows some, but how much I don’t know. Please for the love of God, don’t hurt me no more, please.”
Clayton released him and he fell over on his side, holding his bruised shoulder.
“That hurts. Oh, that hurts. Why does everything bad have to happen to me, why?” He winced, wiping the blood and snot from his dripping nose.
“If you are in pain that simply means you’re still alive. So quit your crying and get in the trunk, before I remedy that.”
“The trunk? I …..” Howie started, but then saw the anger in Clayton’s eyes. He
obediently climbed, still holding his shoulder. The trunk lid slammed shut behind him.
Clayton walked to the edge of the road and looked down to what was left of the van. A crumpled wreck of twisted smoking metal, with a few small flames flickering around the edges of the hood here and there. The smell of smoke, hot antifreeze in gasoline, was heavy in the air.
He reached in his pocket and got his cell phone and hit 911.
“There has been an accident on Harper Road near the Wellington cut-off. Better hurry, because it’s starting to catch on fire.” Just then flames shot up, quickly engulfing the entire van. “Looks like it’s too late.” He said and hung up. If that wasn’t some kind of poetic justice, he thought to himself, nothing was. Then he dialed Richards, but got no answer. So he called his office phone and got the desk sergeant.
The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1 Page 26
