The Poll Bearer Part 31 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

“You’ve thought of everything,” Dan said trying to play on her vanity.

            “I think so,” she said. “Anything I’ve missed can’t be very important. You know, there’s a kind of irony in all this.”

            “What’s that?” Dan asked.

            “All that data you fed into those computers to find the most average American and it all leads to this crazy lying dead over there…it sure doesn’t say much about the average person, does it?” she said raising the gun barrel to chest level.

            “How about a deal?” Dan pleaded.

            “Deal?” she asked. “What kind of deal are you proposing? I already have money. I’m dumping my husband. I’ve gotten rid of my biggest threat. And I’m about to wrap up the last loose end, you. What kind of deal can you possibly put on the table that might interest me?”

            “What if I could show you a way that all of that would happen but you wouldn’t have to leave the country,” Dan said, hoping against hope that she’d at least listen to what he was about to say. This wasn’t some hero movie where he’d use a karate move or pull out a secret knife or even that somebody would come to his rescue; this was a time where his greatest talent, his ability to persuade people to do what he wanted, had to be working to its maximum.

“I know a way you can continue to live wherever you want,” he said. “Look at it this way. A woman of your class can’t stay cooped up in some banana republic no matter how much like paradise it might look right now. You need to be in Paris and Rome and Cannes. What good is money on a beach with nobody to compliment how fabulous you look?”

He was hoping that she’d see his way even if the reality was that he had no idea how to really make it happen.

“I have a way that you come out of this still owning the company, but we go a new way. We stop doing research for commercials and start making them ourselves,” he said excitedly. The idea didn’t really make any sense, but he was throwing out anything he could think of to keep her off balance so he could somehow make her think he was too valuable to kill.

“Get this,” he said. “We create commercials with subliminal messages in them. We can’t fail. Advertisers will be lining up even more than they are now. You’ll have that ocean of money. The company will be called Justine Edwards, Limited. Get that. Justine Edwards, Limited. It’ll be all you. And I’ll be there to help you make it come true. Imagine if you will. You’ll be one of the most powerful women in America. Of the world.”

Dan was racing through his words trying to think of anything else he could say to buy himself more time.

“I already am powerful,” she said calmly, transferring the weapon back to her right hand. “I have the gun.”

Dan heard the first shot barely as it struck the center of his chest. There was no pain as the bullet passed completely through his body striking the wall behind him. He dropped to his knees, his eyes filled with the burning question WHY. By the time she fired the second shot, Dan’s world had ceased to exist; it was now a black pool and he was being swallowed up in its inkiness.

Justine found a bottle of bourbon downstairs and started spilling its contents all over a throw pillow, soaking it as much as she could figuring there was nothing like a house fire to slow down identifying three bodies. While the world was occupied with putting out a blaze, she’d be sipping cocktails in the private jet at 30,000 feet as it took her from a life she despised to one that held nothing but promise…and one hundred and eighty-six million dollars.

Searching further, she found a twelve inch candle which she stood up on a small plate and lit. She then put the plate onto the cushion of the couch and set the pillow so its edge touched at the six inch mark of the candle. Once she left, the flame would burn down to the alcohol-soaked pillow and ignite it, and it would then set off the couch. She figured only good things for her could happen from that.

Exiting out the back door, she quickly made her way to her car and drove away confident that her plan was succeeding. She looked into her rear view mirror at the one suitcase sitting on the back seat, all of her jewelry inside, sparkling reminders of the life she was leaving and the one she was racing toward.

CHAPTER 26     

The drive to the private airport took an hour even in the uncrowded streets of evening. As she pulled her car to the side of the hangar, she smiled knowing that by now Slate’s house was probably burning to the ground taking the evidence of her crime with it. The headlines tomorrow would scream that three bodies had been found in the ashes, but none of that would matter to her because she planned to be lying on a beach in the Caribbean working on her tan.

She parked the car and left the keys in the ignition knowing that she would never need them again. She took the gun from the seat next to her and slipped it into her pocket. It would find its final resting place deep in the blue waters of the ocean. She also grabbed the suitcase and proceeded to the side door of the hangar. As she walked inside, she saw the sleek white passenger jet waiting in front of her. Walking boldly across the concrete floor, she arrived at the boarding steps just in time to see a man emerge from the plane’s door.                                                                                                                                              “Hello, Justine,” the figure said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Emory!” she yelled back. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t expect to see me, did you?” Emory Edwards said. “You were going to take a trip without your loving husband? My first wife would never have done that”

She stood there stunned. There was no way he could have known about her departure, but there he was, standing at the top of the boarding stairs with an obnoxious smile on his face.

“No good to see you Emory?” he said facetiously. “No how are you. What’s the matter, Justine? Normally you never stop talking, and now you can’t think of a single thing to say?”

Her first thought was to drop the suitcase, reach in her pocket, and grab the gun. There were still enough bullets in it to make her dream come through. Unfortunately, she had not reacted fast enough because she now felt the barrel of another gun being pressed into her back. She turned her head to look over her shoulder.

“Hello, Justine,” Bernie Jackson said holding the revolver. “You’ll do me a favor by taking your gun out of your pocket, carefully and slowly, and dropping it onto the floor. Since I found out that you planned to have me killed, I think you better do exactly as I say or the next few moments might prove to be exceptionally fatal for you.”

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There was an animal expression on Slate’s face; his eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed as if he were looking at prey and making himself ready to lunge. Dan was petrified, unable to move even though the threat right in front of him was imminent.

            The blood of his victim was covering Slate’s hand and shirt as he pulled the letter opener out of Louis a second time, raising himself up to his knees. Putting his other hand against the hallway wall, he helped himself to his feet and started to walk slowly toward Dan, his intended victim. Finally, acting more on instinct than on reason, Dan started to back away extending his arms out in front of him as if they would somehow stop the savage intensity that he knew was about to befall him. Slate raised the weapon overhead the same way he had done with Louis knowing only nine feet were all that separated him from his goal. He took the first step clearing the wall and positioning himself in the opening of the staircase.

            It sounded like a large bug hitting the windshield of a rapidly moving car; but, in reality, it was the noise made by a bullet passing through a silencer and striking its target, the side of a man’s skull directly in the center of the ear. Slate stopped in his tracks and remained totally still for five seconds until the blood started to run down the side of his head onto his neck. Then, like a tree toppling in the forest, he fell straight forward painlessly smashing himself into the floor, already dead on contact. Once again, Dan just stood there not thinking, just reacting. A moment ago he was about to be killed; now his intended murderer was dead himself. None of this made any sense.

            The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs did nothing to cause Dan to move; right now he was just a piece in a large game that was being played around him. Whatever was to happen next, he had no control.

            The barrel of a gun with a silence attached was the first thing he saw followed by the hand that was holding it. Slowly, the person to whom both belonged stepped into view.

            “Mrs. Edwards!” Dan said aloud recognizing the woman as Justine Edwards, the wife of the company’s CEO. Although he had never met her in person, he had seen her picture on his boss’ desk. “What are you doing here?’

            “Cleaning up some loose ends,” she said pointing the gun at Dan’s abdomen. Looking down at Slate’s prone figure, she continued, “Not a bad shot if I say so myself. All those months at the pistol range served me well.”

            “Thank you for saving me from this crazy fiend, but -,” Dan started to say.

            “Who said I saved you?” she asked. “How do you know I didn’t think it was you I was aiming at? After all, it is dark and the only light is spilling out of the bedroom.”

            “I don’t understand,” Dan said.

            “Look, you fool. Did you honestly think I was going to let you and Postadolas back there take over my husband’s company and rob it blind? You think I endured my failure of a husband all these years just to lose out when the big money started rolling in? Think again. I saw how Postadolas got his foot in the door when my stupid husband needed money. Pretty soon, we were living on his handouts while he was conducting his other business on the side. I was already plotting to get rid of him then you showed up with an idea worth billions, so I sat back and bided my time. See what happens, Justine, I told myself. Maybe this idea will work. Well, it did, but we were still being cut out of the big money. Postadolas was a pig; there was never going to be enough for him never mind anybody else.”

            She shifted the gun to the other hand and said,” Don’t try to get lucky. I’m ambidextrous. I can drop you where you stand just as easily with my left hand as with my right.”

            The last thing on Dan’s mind was to move. Instead, he was hoping that he’d be able to find out what she wanted and to make any promises he could to spare his life.

            “What do you want?’ he asked not knowing any more diplomatic way to ask the question of a person who was pointing a gun at him.

            “Nothing,” she said. “I’ve got everything I want right now. Postadolas is dead. That nut job over there is also dead. Yah, that’s right. I knew he wasn’t the original Andrew Slate but some whacko named Alan Gordon. For a security conscious guy such as yourself, you’d be smart to make sure you shred everything. When you first started, I made sure the custodian that cleaned your office brought me the contents of your waste basket every day. You’d be surprised at what you can find out from people’s trash or would you. Isn’t that how you tracked down the current Slate’s identity? It seems you threw away a very valuable piece of paper with all of the new Mr. Slate’s information on it which I now have in my possession. I knew right away that this whole plan of yours with Mr. Average American was going to fall apart; it was then I began planning when and how.”

            She was talking as if it gave her satisfaction to reveal how smart she was to somebody who wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else.

            “What’s next?” Dan asked, hoping she was going to offer him a deal to keep his mouth shut.

            “Next, I get on a plane to a comfortably warm country with no extradition treaty with the United States. Then, I go to their bank where I’ve already managed to have deposited one hundred and eighty-six million dollars, money taken from my husband’s company’s accounts with the help of Bernie Jackson, his most trusted treasurer. It’s not an ocean of money as you promised Postadolas, but it’s at least a medium-sized lake. It’ll be more than enough to keep me in a luxurious lifestyle for the rest of my life. I’m not greedy,” she said.

            “What about Bernie and your husband?” Dan asked stupidly.

            “Bernie thinks he’ll be joining me in paradise, but I’ve already arranged that some untimely accident will deny him that pleasure,” she said. “As for my moronic husband, well he’ll just have to stay behind and face the music when the authorities come looking for him and asking how he stole his clients’ money.”

            “What about these bodies?” Dan asked stalling for time. “The police find them and they’ll be looking for everybody associated with the company, even you.”

            “Nice try, but that’s why you’re where you are and I’m the one with the gun,” she answered smugly. “When the morning surveillance crew comes on, they’ll be seeing everything normal in this house. I looped previously recorded tapes so that it’ll take them at least a couple of hours to catch on. By the time they get through the food chain of the company’s executives, I’ll be long gone in a private jet winging my way over the Atlantic wondering which gown I plan to wear tomorrow evening.”

The Poll Bearer Part 29 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

CHAPTER 25     

            Dan was certain that Louis would not come armed since he probably figured he and Slate would just be talking and, at most, this was only a business deal that could be settled with words. Besides, Louis’ new image was as a successful entrepreneur, and a gun would be out of the question. Even if Dan were able to escalate the meeting into a confrontation, there was nothing to indicate that he could push it into actual physical violence or that Louis was capable of murder himself. Unless something happened in that house to at least one of the individuals who were now major obstacles to Dan’s own survival, all of this planning and scheming was for nothing. In order to ensure success, therefore, Dan decided to bring a weapon on his own. Hopefully he could induce Louis to use it or…if it came down to the bottom line…he could find it in himself to make sure neither of the two men left that house alive. This was a desperate time for the wonder boy, but the speed with which things were happening actually made it easier for him to arrive at such immoral conclusions since he really didn’t have time to think through the consequences. There was now a sense of desperation which was overruling common sense.

            Arturo Roez, vice-president in charge of sales, was a ruthless bastard who trusted no one and alienated everyone except for the firm’s customers. Dan knew that he kept a small caliber gun in the drawer of his office desk as protection. Since Arturo made bitter enemies with almost every employee that ever worked under him, he felt it necessary to have a weapon at his disposal at all times in case of a confrontation; and he had plenty of those that almost reached the level of violence. He didn’t want to carry a gun on his person, but he was known to keep one in his car and another at his home for the same reasons. It would be easy to get that gun in the office, which Dan was sure would already be loaded, and to take it with him to Slate’s house.

            Since he was the corporate genius, he had keys to everywhere, including places where lesser employees like Arturo thought were safe. It was not difficult to get the gun and conceal it in his pocket as he left the building and started the drive to Slate’s house. On the way, he was trying to think of ways he could push Louis’ buttons to enrage him against Slate. He knew that whatever he did had to be fast before any of the other two men could stop to reason out why things were happening as they were. Finally, he decided that the best avenue he had was to admit to Louis that they had both been deceived and that Slate was a fake and a killer who would drag them both down if he wasn’t stopped. Dan was sure that would set the unstable Slate off; then the only problem was for Dan to get out of the way of what he hoped would be a violent conclusion.

            He arrived outside the house at 10:45, and a black car pulled up in front of him and parked a few minutes later. It wasn’t a limo, so Dan figured Louis had come alone. He saw Louis step out of the driver’s side and come toward his car; but with his focus being directed solely toward the big man, he failed to notice that another car, with its lights out, had stopped two hundred feet behind his.

            Rolling down his window, Dan spoke first.

            “He’s inside,” Dan said. “I checked on the tablet just a minute ago. He’s upstairs in the bedroom. What’s our strategy?”

            He was still totally unaware of the other car where an individual, dressed in dark clothing, stepped out and stood watching the scene transpire between the two men.

            “We go in and see what he wants?” Louis answered. “I look and see if we can still trust him to serve our purposes, that’s all.”

            “But what if he plays hard ball?” Dan asked trying to pour a little gasoline on what he hoped were embers.

            “We deal with that when and if I say we do,” Louis replied.

            “Don’t you think we should have some sort of back up plan?” Dan said trying to prod Louis. “What if he threatens to call the cops? I mean we did bug his place; and that’s illegal.”

            “I’ve dealt with these types of people before,” Louis answered. “Usually it comes down to money. Since he has no idea what kind of money we’re dealing with, his demand will probably be low ball at best. I’ll haggle, bring him even lower, and we all walk away happy. If we find he can’t be trusted, then later something might happen to him. First, let’s try it the easy way and not go off half-cocked.”

            That was exactly what Dan didn’t want to hear. Without a confrontation, only his goose stood a chance to be cooked. He was deciding when would be the right time to tell him about Slate’s checkered past; if he did it now, Slate might not be riled…if he did it inside, then there was the chance for all of this to end happily…for Dan at least.

            “Let’s go,” Louis said. “It’s time.”

            As Dan got out of his car and started to walk with Louis, he still failed to notice the dark figure who had slipped behind a nearby tree and was waiting to follow silently.

            “Let’s use the back door,” Dan said. “I know where he keeps his key.”

            Removing the flower pot, Dan retrieved the key and went to the door, opening it quietly; then he stopped.

            “Here,” he said thrusting the pistol into Louis’ hand; “take this just in case.”

            The suddenness of the action caught Louis by surprise and he instinctively took hold of the weapon. Dan quickly turned to enter the house giving his companion no time to return the gun or even to protest.

            The inside was dark as Dan had witnessed on the tablet, so he took out a small flashlight to navigate the way. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, he whispered, “He’s up there, first room to the left.”

            Slate was, indeed, in that bedroom having moved from the desk when he heard the key turning in the lock downstairs. He had shut off the light and was waiting in the darkness beside the door, his hand firmly clutching the letter opener so he could stab downward.

            Dan started up the stairs slowly leading the way for his companion. He expected they were going to surprise Slate at his desk, and Dan would have time to yell out accusations against him while physically pushing Louis forward so he’d have to defend himself. It was a crude plan but the only one Dan could come up with.

            At the top of the stairs, he motioned Louis to go first whispering, “Let’s just go in and gain the element of surprise. He should be sitting at his desk.”

            As Dan reached around Louis to open the door, both men were instantly confused by the darkness with Louis being the one who occupied to open door space. Slate, seeing only one man, lunged out with the letter opener raised and drove it into Louis’ neck, just above his breast bone but through the soft tissue. From his years of practice with the corkscrew, he knew enough to turn the blade to silence any outcry and to get the maximum killing power. Louis staggered backward as Slate fell upon him drawing back on his weapon and stabbing the bleeding man once again, this time in the heart. The rage and intensity of the moment fed his brutal desires making him lose all awareness of what else was going on around him. It took a few seconds before he looked up to see Dan frozen in position, unable to move or scream from the horror he had just witnessed.

The Poll Bearer Part 28 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

“He found a camera,” Dan replied knowing that it was Louis’ crew who had installed the surveillance equipment in the first place so the blame couldn’t be easily shifted to Dan.

            “Options?” Louis asked probing to see what Dan was going to come up with to try to rectify the situation.

            “He wants to meet,” Dan said. “He held up a message to the cameras. Meet or he calls the police.”

            Since Louis wasn’t aware of this Andrew Slate’s real background, he couldn’t possibly know that this would be the last possible thing Slate would ever do.

            “You?” Louis asked.

            “Us,” Dan answered, realizing that somehow he had to talk Louis into going to Slate’s house with him despite what he perceived to be the big man’s reluctance to get personally involved. “He wants the top people. I go alone, he makes a request, I have to wait to report to you for a decision. Then he knows something is fishy and we might lose him. You and I go together; we hear what he wants; you make the decision whether to give in or move on. You have a more forceful personality. You can’t send somebody in your place because that person wouldn’t have your authority. You are the only one who knows what’s the best deal. It’s a big ocean of money, so I’m sure you can negotiate for a small part for him if that becomes necessary. Or maybe you have other options.”

            Dan was hoping he was making a strong enough case for Louis to be there, but there was a pause on the other end of the call that was starting to worry him.

            “Even if we make a deal,” Louis said; “won’t that compromise his use to us. I mean we’ve tapped into his natural choices without pressure. If he knows, doesn’t that slant his decision-making?”

            “Maybe, maybe not,” Dan said running a bluff. “That’s why I need you there because you can read people so well. You’ll be able to tell if he’s conning us.”

            Dan was piling on the flattery trying to make Louis seem indispensable to the outcome; he wasn’t sure it was working. Finally, after a thirty second pause, Louis spoke.

            “When does he want to meet?”

            “Tonight at 11:00,” Dan said breathing a sigh of relief. “At his place. I’ll meet you outside at 10:55. You know his address?”

            “10:55,” Louis answered then hung up.

            If everything went according to plan, Louis would arrive alone; at worst, his body guard or driver would be with him. If that happened, Dan had to be sure to make sure the other person was left behind with the car. The trick was to create such an intolerable scene inside Slate’s home that Louis would snap and do something to Andrew. Roughing him up would do no good since that would destroy Slate’s effectiveness as a tester of commercial content. Walking away also wasn’t an option since Louis knew the police were searching for Dan and his brother; if either of them were picked up, Louis knew they’d spill the beans and implicate him in some way. Although he was now a legitimate businessman, his past deeds would still warrant a major prison term. No, if Slate didn’t cooperate, then Louis only had one choice: eliminate him permanently. Of course, there was always the possibility that he wouldn’t stop there and would eliminate Dan as well, but he’d deal with that when and if he was threatened. He was hoping that he could convince Louis that he had another lucrative scheme to make money to make himself too valuable to kill. Ideally Slate and Louis would eliminate each other; but if one had to survive, Dan hoped it would be Louis since he had been able to manipulate him in the past.

            Going to the computer that was used to insert the test commercials, Dan typed a message and sent it to Slate’s screen. It didn’t matter any more that by doing this Slate would realized that he had been played, because that was no longer important. The Mr. Average American plan was dead and couldn’t ever be resurrected with Slate, so there was no need for excessive secrecy.

When MEETING SET FOR 11:00 appeared on the television screen, Slate was surprised. He actually looked around the room to see if anyone were there, then he just sat back and clicked off the set. He got up, walked awkwardly to the stairs holding onto furniture for support, clicked off the downstairs lights, and went up the stairs trying to keep his bad leg straight and not putting much weight on it. When he finally reached the top, he clicked off the stairway light and went into his bedroom and sat at the small desk in the corner. The room was lit by two lights, one on the nightstand next to the bed and the other a small lamp on the desk. Slate just sat there in the chair looking over some papers, his back to the door acting as the bait that he hoped would lure his victim to him. He figured that there were cameras everywhere; and if he acted relaxed, the man identified as Dan would be unprepared for what Slate was actually planning.

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He would make sure to be in the bedroom already when he expected that company might arrive. If he shut the lights off in the room but left the hallway ones on, anyone entering would be at a disadvantage in having their eyes going from light to darkness. By the time they adjusted, he’d have the advantage of seeing a silhouette in the doorway; that’s when he would strike. He wasn’t sure if there were cameras in the bedroom as well, so he’d wait until he heard the front or back door open before he’d switch off the lights where he was. That way, even if he were being monitored, it would do the person downstairs no good since he wouldn’t have that last second information.

While he would have liked to know why he was being spied upon, that wasn’t as important as getting rid of the threat.

The rest of the day went by slowly as he waited to execute his plan; it wasn’t perfect but at least it gave him some breathing room. He didn’t like the idea that he’d have to bring the cops in, but right now they weren’t the threat to his freedom that Dan was. If there was anything that Andrew Slate had learned since he had adopted this identity it was to act first and think later. It was crude but had served him well up to now.

CHAPTER 24     

            While Slate was concocting his plan, Dan was trying to cope with what he had done by putting his brother into jeopardy. It was one thing to be reckless himself and to bear the consequences for his own actions, but to involve Richie was unthinkable. Between Louis’ threats on one side and Slate’s behavior on the other, Dan was close to a melt down. The ocean of money was no longer the driving force in his life; getting out of his present situation was.

            The day passed slowly as he could not focus at all on business but spent much of his time pacing around the office. When Lisa came in to give him papers to sign, he tried to pretend that nothing was bothering him; but when she left, he went back to feeling depressed.

            By the time the surveillance crew left and Dan was in the big room with the array of monitors in front of him, he was literally washed out. Then, at 10:00 PM, Slate put his plan into play. As he sat in front of his television set, he pulled out a piece of poster board and laid it in his lap. Then taking out a black marker from his shirt pocket he wrote:

            I KNOW YOU ARE WATCHING! I WANT TO TALK TO YOU. IF YOU DO NOT COME TO MY HOUSE AT 11:00 PM THIS EVENING, I WILL CALL THE POLICE AND TELL THEM YOU ATTACKED ME. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHERE YOU LIVE, DAN!

            He held up the card and showed it to three walls figuring there had to be a camera on at least one of them; then, to make sure, he read the message aloud. Finally, he showed the print out copy of Dan’s driver’s license to prove that what he was saying was true.

            Dan was stunned into complete silence. He couldn’t believe that Slate had somehow discovered he was being monitored; and more so, he was overwhelmed that Andrew knew his name. Of course it was a bluff since the last people Slate wanted to talk to were the cops, but the pure fact that he was exposed made Dan feel queasy inside. He slumped back in his chair; his mind was completely blank and his emotion of fear was kicking in big time. Dan could feel his hands begin to shake uncontrollably and sweat started to appear on his brow. His heart was racing as if Slate were going to walk through that door any second and confront him. He was almost in a full panic stage when something happened causing him to slowly come to his senses; his basic survival mode kicked in. Suddenly, it wasn’t the overwhelming thought of what was going to happen to him and to Richie in the future that was ruling his actions; instead his brain began simplifying his immediate choices to handle the problem right now, to remove the threat. He started to calm down as his mind began to calculate what he needed to do. In this state, morality isn’t a restriction; the bottom line becomes survival at any price.

            Dan’s brain posed a simple question: what would solve his problem immediately if he could make it happen? The answer was just as simple: eliminate Slate. But then there was the matter of Louis who might pose an even greater threat. Once again, the answer was simple: eliminate Louis. Since Dan wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to terminate either or both men, then the problem would continue…unless, somehow he could get the two men to eliminate each other. He knew that his moral code could definitely be bent enough to allow that to happen. Then all of his problems would be solved, and he and Richie would be in the clear. Though he would lose the golden goose in Slate, he had earned enough money already to live comfortably. Unfortunately, Louis hadn’t that same approach as his greed overwhelmed any idea of ever entertaining the thought of quitting.

            In this new scenario, Louis, the criminal, and Slate, the killer, would cease to exist, Dan could almost convince himself that he was doing a socially worthy deed if it hadn’t been for the bodies Slate had already accumulated.

Dan had one hour to create an environment where he hoped both Slate and Louis would no longer exist, but he had no way to contact Louis to make anything happen. Lisa. She would know a way since he always suspected she was more than just a secretary and a spy.

            He quickly typed in the key to the personnel records and got her telephone number. He was hoping that it was real as he pressed the digits on his cell phone.

            “Hello, Lisa?” he asked.

            “Yes,” an irritated voice answered.

            “It’s vital that I speak to Mr. Postadolas right away, but I don’t have his number. Can you call him and have him contact me immediately; it’s an emergency. Just tell him it involves Slate and have him call me on my cell,” Dan said trying to show great concern in his voice.

            Lisa hung up. Two long minutes later, Louis called.

            “Problem?” he said in a tone that didn’t seem as if it was about to tolerate a real problem.

            “Slate knows,” Dan said, and then he stopped to gauge Louis’ reaction.

            “Knows what?” Louis replied with another question. From his tone, he was anticipating a negative answer.

            “Everything,” Dan said trying to build up the tension.

            “How?” Louis continued in his one-word question style, the anger starting to build as the emphasis on the questions became stronger.

The Poll Bearer Part 26 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

CHAPTER 23

            What Dan had forgotten was that Slate, the one who had adopted the original Andrew Slate’s identity, wasn’t a choir boy. His run in with the law before he changed his name and identity gave him access to a criminal underground grapevine that functioned wherever he went. It was not that difficult for him to devise a way to get the license plate of the supposed drunken driver’s car that had spoiled his stalk that night. A short time later a mysterious enveloped arrived in his mailbox which contained a copy of Dan’s driver’s license. Slate immediately saw that it was the picture of the same man who had attacked him in his home and the one the police had asked about when they stopped by and showed him the photo in their robbery investigation. He had denied having any knowledge about the man to them and had said he injured his leg when he slipped on a wet kitchen floor. He wanted the opportunity to confront Dan himself.

It had now been some time since his last stalk and kill, and the murderous rage was starting to build up inside him. What better way to release his tensions than to commit a murder right under the eyes of the police and to have their help in removing the body. Although he’d be unable to use his favorite instrument to do the act, he’d still be able to satisfy that inner voice that compelled him to kill.

            There was no way that Slate was going to be wandering all over town trying to find Dan in an unguarded moment, not with this game leg. Second, he knew that in his fight with Dan in the hallway, they were both fairly evenly matched, so a physical confrontation was out as well. Unlike Dan who had a moral steak within him, Slate wasn’t bothered by such an inconvenience, so his mind was able to explore all areas to catch his prey. The answer was simple: bring Dan to him.

            Since the police were already looking for a burglary suspect, finding Dan’s body in Slate’s house wouldn’t be a problem. All Andrew had to say was that the burglar returned, Slate had to use excessive force to defend himself because of his injured leg, and society would cart the body from the premises for him; he might even get a medal if he played his cards right. Even if the cops found Dan to be innocent, Slate could say he didn’t know; and in the excitement in the darkness of the house, no one would blame him.

            A check on the social networking sites brought Slate all the information that he needed about Dan, more than enough to formulate a plan. Since he now suspected that Dan wasn’t at that stalking scene by accident but was either trying to warn the potential victim or was following Slate himself, then that meant that Dan knew something about Slate’s activities. Andrew also started to add up small things that he had noticed but hadn’t paid much attention to in the past. The black van that used to park down the street in the same spot every day was no longer there following his accident. Was it because somebody knew he wouldn’t be going outside any more? The key under the flower pot near the back door had been moved, and there were no jimmy marks on the lock meaning that Dan had used the key to gain entrance the night he was attacked. It wasn’t just a random break in. How did he know where it was? Why wasn’t anything taken during the pretend robbery? It seemed that the only reason the two men had was to injure Andrew, and they focused on the leg meaning they wanted him to have to remain cooped up in the house. That’s when he became suspicious that if he was being followed, was there electronic surveillance equipment being used inside the house? He’d watched enough television spy shows to know that cameras and microphones could be easily planted; the trick was how to find them without letting the people watching know.

Andrew had seen the Will Smith movie Enemy of the State where the hero was bugged every possible way. In his paranoia, Andrew began to think that maybe that was happening to him as well. In the film, Smith uses the surveillance to his own advantage; and Andrew decided he would do the same.

Slate started to analyze the situation and tried to guess just when all of this came about. If Dan had been working for the police, then he’d already accumulated enough evidence to have Slate arrested on murder charges; so scratch that he was working with or for the cops. What other reason could there be to keep tabs on somebody? National Defense? No, Andrew knew he had absolutely no ties to any government secrets. Suspicion of a crime? Andrew’s only crimes were murder and he had already ruled that possibility out. Jealous husband and divorce proceedings? That, too, could be ruled out since he hadn’t had a relationship in over a year, and that one wasn’t serious nor with a married woman. The mob? Andrew had no links to organized crime. There didn’t seem to be a reason for the surveillance that really mattered.

Puzzled about the reason, Slate decided to try a new tact: discover the cameras or microphones without making it look too obvious. As he stumbled around the house pretending to get things, Slate focused his attention on any place where a camera might be hidden. Within five minutes, he gave up. Knowing that modern technology had made the new cameras as small as a button, that is if current TV shows could be believed, he quickly realized there were thousands of places where a tiny object could be hidden successfully. Looking for these devices wasn’t the answer. That left only one sure way to lure Dan to him: tell him he knew he was being watched.

Since Slate needed Dan to show up at night to advance the burglary story, he decided to wait until late evening to spring his message. In the meanwhile, he knew he had to devise a weapon that would look natural to the police. It had to be something a person would find in an instant, but he also wanted it to be able to deliver a fatal blow. Since Slate wanted the body to be discovered in his bedroom and since he knew the murder had to be committed right there because he didn’t have the strength to haul a body around in his condition, it had to be an object that would seem natural in such a location. A knife was out of the question as was a gun, since he didn’t own one any way. If he was being watched, then bringing a foreign object into the bedroom would alert Dan in advance. He couldn’t swing a baseball bat with enough force to do the job because he couldn’t pivot on his leg, and a hammer might appear to be too convenient to some sharp detective. As he tried to recall what was already in the bedroom, he finally settled on the letter opener on the desk in the corner. While it wasn’t sharp, it was pointy, long, and strong enough to kill a man; plus, it was something that would be naturally found on the desk.

The Poll Bearer Part 25 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

CHAPTER 22

            Sure enough, Slate was released the next day. The diagnosis was a severe sprain, so his nights of stalking women were over with for now. Dan’s plan had succeeded, and everything became better as Slate watched even more television than before. An added benefit was that he spent more time on his computer, so still photos could be assessed for their magazine value. Unfortunately, Slate also devoted time to searching for information; it was obvious that he was trying to identify Dan. Right now, Dan was uncertain if Slate had his license plate number since there was no way for an average citizen to run the numbers on the internet; so he still felt pretty safe. Then the unexpected happened.

            Louis made his daily invasion into Dan’s office, plopping his behind into his favorite chair.

            “Problem,” he began in his simplified way of speaking.

            “What now?” Dan asked disgustedly, feeling braver in his conversations with the man since the company was doing so well.

            “Police,” Louis answered taciturnly.

            The word immediately got Dan’s attention.

            “What do you mean?” Dan asked.

            “In my previous endeavors,” Louis said; “I always found it beneficial to have good communication within the police department.”

            Dan understood that to mean that Louis had a paid informant inside headquarters.

            “I have reliable information that the police are in possession of a photograph of two men acting suspicious on

Crandon Street

the other night,” Louis continued. “They appear to be fleeing from the home of one Andrew Slate. A neighbor’s security camera captured a series of pictures of the duo. One of the men had what looked like part of a woman’s stocking hanging around his neck. It seems there was a robbery in the area at the time, and the police are looking for these two men as possible suspects.”

            “So how is that a problem?’ Dan asked.

            “My…let’s say communicator, has been in this building,” Louis said looking directly at Dan. “He has seen you in person. You’re the guy in the picture. The cops haven’t identified you as of yet, but that’s only a matter of time. They’re interviewing people in that neighborhood to find out if anybody saw anything, especially Slate. Now I want to know why you were leaving Slate’s house when you, yourself, said none of us were to have contact with him. I want to know what any of this has to do with Slate’s sudden fall.”  

            “It’s not me,” Dan said weakly. “It must be somebody who looks like me. I was with my brother that night. We went to the movies.”

            “Then how come the other guy in the picture looks like your brother?” Louis asked now rising and approaching Dan. “Coincidence?”

            “Look, I can explain,” Dan said breaking down. “We went there because…because one of the key cameras wasn’t working. We snuck into the house. Slate heard us and fell down the stairs. He didn’t see us. We ran out of the place, that’s when the camera must have caught our picture.”

            “I don’t believe you,” Louis said sternly. “You either tell me the truth or things are going to happen that you won’t want. I have a man stationed outside the house where your brother lives right now. One call from me and that man goes inside and gets the truth from your brother in a way that won’t be pleasant. Now what is it?”

            “My brother doesn’t know anything,” Dan protested to deaf ears. “I just dragged him along to help. I noticed that Slate was spending less time at the television set and more with his computer. I also found out he was getting interested in a girl where he works. I figured that might change his patterns of behavior, screwing up his judgment and killing our golden goose. I didn’t want to say anything to you because…well, because I’m afraid of you. So, I thought if I injured Slate just enough so he had to stay home more, he’d spend more time in front of the TV and less in pining for the girl. I didn’t want to let anybody else know, so I conned my brother into helping me. That’s the truth. I swear it.”

            He tried desperately to pretend to be sincere by throwing in a little bit of truth to mask the lie. He knew he couldn’t tell Louis about Slate’s murderous tendencies, so he hoped this story would suffice. Throwing in the fact that he was frightened of Louis couldn’t hurt.

            Louis stood there uncertain what to do next. If Dan was telling the truth, no damage was done except to Slate’s leg. If he was lying, there was a possibility that the ocean of money would dry up quickly.

            “You have three days,” Louis said picking a number out of the air. “If things aren’t back to normal in three days or less, this firm will be looking for your replacement and your brother will join you where you’re going. Three days. Is that clear enough for you?”

            “I guarantee it,” Dan said stifling a sigh of relief as the man walked out of the room without his “don’t screw it up” line.

            Now he realized that the police were looking for him; Louis was threatening his life; Slate would obviously like to get his hands on him; and his brother was innocently involved in his mess. There had to be a way out, but he had no clue right now what it might be.