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The Chardon Chronicles: Season Two --- The Winter

Page 20

by Kevin Kimmich


  Chapter Nine

  Roger Burnham was a relatively new member of the Brotherhood, and American Funding was his first position in the organization. The Brotherhood provided his career a much needed boost. He’d been stuck as a VP at a regional Colorado bank for six years, but the Brotherhood moved him to a top spot almost immediately after he joined. Most of American Funding’s revenues were generated from its money laundering operation. The company made loans to small businesses all over the United States, and those businesses paid the loans back with drug money.

  Roger liked to get into the office before anybody else did. He felt it was his responsibility to be there first since he was the CEO, and that meant he needed to leave his house by 7:30AM to beat the morning rush. The rumble of the garage door marked the start of his day. He jogged down the steps into his three car garage and clicked the unlock button on his Porsche Cayenne.

  He was mostly bald, and what remained of his salt and pepper hair was cropped close to his pudgy head. He usually wore a suit into the office, but since it was casual Friday, he was in khakis and a shiny green golf shirt.

  He had a song stuck in his head and mumble sang it.

  Turn the tables with our unity

  They're neither moral nor majority

  Wake up and smell the coffee

  Or just say no to individuality

  “Hey Roger!” A man’s voice boomed out through the open garage door. Roger stumbled in his surprise and fright and almost dropped his coffee on the ground.

  Roger said, “Jesus! What are you guys doing out there? Get inside!”

  Three men were waiting for him. They strolled into the garage and Roger closed the door.

  “What’s going on, Mitch?” Roger asked in a loud whisper.

  Mitch was a former basketball player in high school and for his two years in college. He was tall and even though he was in his late forties, he was still lean and muscular. He habitually wore a long black leather jacket and a black T-shirt and black jeans. A goatee and slicked back hair completed his look. His two associates walked over to the other side of the garage and turned on an air-compressor.

  Roger eyed them nervously. “I said, what’s going on here?”

  “There’s rumors going around that you’re talking to the FBI.”

  Roger’s eyes got big. “Who the hell is saying that? That’s bullshit. I have as much to lose as any of you! Why would I?”

  Mitch said, “You finance pukes think you’re going to shove us out of the trade? It’s always disgusted me to work with you paper shufflers. Fucking parasites.”

  Roger retorted, “Right. So much more noble to sell heroin to high schoolers. Give me a break, Mitch. This makes absolutely no sense. Why would I want to ruin a good thing?”

  Mitch shrugged, “I dunno. People are always scratching and clawing to be on top. Got to defend our little patch of ground.”

  Roger was stuck between two of his cars. Mitch was blocking the garage door side and his two associates were blocking the house side. His heart started racing and he felt like he was going to lose control of his bowels or throw up.

  “Mitch, this is crazy, what can I do to convince you it’s a lie?”

  Mitch said, “Come here Roger.” He motioned for Roger to join him and subtly nodded to the two thugs. Roger took a step, and then the two men were on his back and hooked him under the armpits with a strong grip.

  He dropped his briefcase and his steel coffee tumbler thudded on the concrete and the black fluid leaked out. The two men slammed Roger against the garage door. Roger pleaded, “I can get you guys millions, each. Millions! Untraceable.”

  Mitch’s face hardened, “You assholes with your fucking digits. Millions. Five percent. Compound interest. Blah blah blah. It’s not all just business. What about respect? Honor?” Mitch pulled an framing nailer from a pegboard on the garage wall and clicked the air hose on. It made a loud sniffing sound as some air escaped.

  “Jesus! Mitch. What the fuck. Jesus!!!!” Roger screamed as the first nail went through his arm into the garage door.

  Mitch worked quickly. The nails bashed through flesh and bone. It took a lot of nails to keep Roger stuck to the door, but mercifully, he passed out after the second one shot through his arm. Mitch finished him off with a nail to the head. Mitch muttered, “Asshole.”

  Roger’s wife ran out into the garage and screamed. She remained by the house door and stared at the scene in terror.

  Mitch was shaking with adrenaline but he managed to calm down in spite of the screams. He stopped his thugs from going after her and held up both hands and said calmly but firmly, “Lady, we got no argument here. Roger was under a lot of stress and decided to take his own life. We tried to stop him, but he just wouldn’t listen. That’s what you saw, too? Right? I mean you’ve got a beautiful home and a beautiful family. Your daughter Stacy, she’s a pretty girl. It’s a real shame he left youz all behind. You hear what I’m saying, right?”

  She nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… I hear it.”

  Mitch made a pistol shooting motion at her. “You’re smart. Well, have a good day. Our condolences.” They filed out the side door and piled into a black SUV and drove away.

 

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