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The Denouement
We sat in the exact same chairs except Mark was now seated at the other head of the table. I had prepped Destiny on what was going to happen, so she didn’t make any wrong moves. The only ones not in on the scheme were Eve and Bob.
Eve was being her usual bitchy self, complaining about her co-workers. Bob was trying his level best to insert his tongue in my client’s ass. Destiny was unusually quiet, but that was actually fine. I didn’t really want her to have a leading role in this drama.
As the coffees were being served, I looked at Mark. He nodded. It was a bit gauche to discuss these matters at the dinner table, but time was running short and we were not of the high society anyway. I was about to open my mouth when Eve made an announcement.
“Everyone. I didn’t think I was going to mention it tonight, but I’m so happy that I can’t hide it!”
If her demeanor was happy, I would hate to see her slightly annoyed.
“Bob and I just got married!”
I looked at Mark, then at Destiny. She mouthed, “I had no idea!” The old man let out a small fart.
“Dad!”
“Sorry, baby! Just so happy for you! Congratulations!”
I would hate to see him at a poker table.
I chimed in, “Yes, congratulations to you both!” I shook Bob’s hand. It was cold and clammy. I quickly pulled it away.
“However, before I ask where you are registered, I do have something to say.”
Destiny tensed up.
“Eve, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your new husband is a homicidal maniac using your father’s organization to provide bodies for experiments at CalTech.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“To my left is my good friend Mark from the LAPD. He has been investigating the organization and has found some pretty gruesome things.”
Bob was surprisingly calm. Didn’t register any emotion. I would be broke if the dining room table had been a poker table.
Mark proceeded to lay out all the evidence he had gathered. He had pictures, transcripts of conversations, and copies of receipts and invoices. I guess there were definite advantages to banging married LAPD accountants. When Mark was finished, Eve started to cry.
“So, you see, Bob, we have enough evidence to send you away for a long time. But we are a charitable lot here. If you promise to quit the job at the homeless organization, annul your marriage, and leave the country, you can stay out of jail. It’s a helluva deal. What do you say?”
Bob stood up. Mark stood up and reached inside his jacket.
“No need to reach for your gun, officer.”
“Chief Detective”
“Whatever.”
He opened his jacket and showed he did not have a gun. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-smoked cigar and a lighter. He lit it and put the lighter back in his pocket.
“I like to call it ‘reviving the dead’. I’m talking about the cigar, of course, but it nicely applies to my little enterprise.”
“Bob!”
“Shut up, Eve! I’ve got a nice little nest egg for us saved up. It was going to be your wedding present! You could finally leave your stupid job and have a life of leisure, like you deserve.”
The old man let out another fart.
“The answer to your question is, of course, no. Just the fact that you gave me an out tells me you are bluffing. I know that no one wants to know that the money they voted for is being given to an organization engaged in wholesale murder for profit. So, you do have your answer to the puzzle, but you will do nothing about it.”
I had not expected him to call my bluff. I was rather hoping things could be tied in a neat little bow. So much for that. On to Plan B.
“Shall we take drinks in the outdoor patio?”
Bob replied, “That would be lovely. Thanks, Nick!”
I gave Destiny a look. She looked back. She grabbed her purse and walked behind all of us to the patio. I wanted her safely out of harm’s way.
Everyone took positions in a semi-circle while Bob stood alone at the center, leaning on the marble rail. Bob took a long sip from his drink. He looked at the moonlit garden and then turned around.
“So, officer and mister private dick, what exactly are you going to do about this?”
He hocked up a loogie and spit it into the bush below him. He looked straight at me when he spoke his next words.
“I’ll tell you the answer. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Out of impotence or rage, I ran towards him. Two yards away from him, I felt a fly zip past my ear and the moon got turned off.
***
I woke up ten minutes later on one of the patio chairs.
“That had to be one of the funniest things I have ever seen!”
Mark was laughing again. It was starting to get annoying.
“What happened?”
“You rushed him, tripped, and fell over the rail. Luckily, you landed on the bush. I’m afraid some loogie got on you.”
“Eww. Wait, what about Bob?”
“He’s either dead or extremely sleepy.”
I looked around. Bob’s dead body was lying on the floor directly in front of the rail. He had a bullet hole where Indians believe the third eye is.
“Who?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
***
“Wait, let me get a pen.”
Canadians are charming in their ancient ways. He came back on the line.
“Okay, so who was doing the killings?”
“Randoms. Gang members. Thugs. All of them one and dones.”
“But how did he maintain quality standards?”
“Jesus!”
“Well?”
“They were all given strict instructions. If the instructions were not followed, the killer wasn’t paid.”
“Isn’t that a lot of killers?”
“You’ve never been to Los Angeles, have you?”
***
The Ducks were in town and it was a little harder to get tickets, but I’d manage to score a couple in the 100 level. She looked stunning, as per usual.
Mark had made sure everyone turned into Sergeant Schultzes. I had arranged for my buddies in low places to turn Bob into untraceable dust. My client was happy and had rewarded me handsomely. At least someone thought I was handsome.
“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?”
I grumbled.
“You know, it’s not fair that all of you are in on this big secret and I’m not.”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what Mark says too. It’s getting annoying.”
“Well let me brighten your day then. I have some good news for you.”
“Hit me.”
“I’m a widow again.”
I’m an asshole, but I’m not that much of an asshole.
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was terminal. Just a matter of time.”
“Now I feel like an asshole. Wait, you said good news?”
“Yeah, you can date me without a guilty conscience.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah. Maybe you are handsome after all.”
I smiled like an idiot. I really did not know why.
“You know, I like hockey and I love getting dressed up for you, but I want to pick our next date.”
“Sure! Whatever you want!”
“I want to go to a Shooting Gallery.”
“Like in Disneyland? I love that! I gotta warn you, I’m pretty good!”
“Oh yeah, care to put a wager on it?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Okay, I win, you make me come first. You win, I make you come first.”
“Duh! Deal!”
“But two things.”
“Yeah?”
“I gotta warn you; I’m a crack shot.”
I laughed, “Okay”
“And we’re going to a real shooting range.”
The horn sounded. The Ducks had taken a 2-1 lead.
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