Authors: Tim Tingle
“Where are you, Dad?”
“I’m in Salisbury. The book signing lasted until 10, and by the time I got away, it was 10:30. I am bone tired, and decided to stop in Salisbury for the night. I’ll be back in London by 9 or 10 in the morning. What is on the agenda for tomorrow?”
“It’s our free day in London, but lots of the students are planning to go to one place or the other.”
“Where are you and Mama Lee going?”
“Well, she is going with Mrs. Parker and the older ladies to do some shopping downtown. Me and Audrey were planning to take our subway passes and ride to every subway station in London! What do you want to do?”
“I guess I’ll see who is left there, when I get to London. If I can catch up with you guys on the subway, I’ll try that. How about this? You and Audrey meet me at Trafalgar Station at noon, and we will eat lunch somewhere nice. There is supposed to be lots of restaurants there.”
“Okay, Dad. Oh, you should have seen the latest antics of Professor Foust! He almost flipped out this evening when some of his students went out to the real seedy side of town! Fred had to calm him down before he had a stroke!”
“Dr. Foust needs to recognize that he can’t control a group of college kids, like a mama hen controls her chicks! They are old enough to decide their own actions. They probably know more facts of life than he does.”
“One of the girls, I think her name is Donna, told him that she was going out to a bar, and was going to find a naked man, and that she would catch up with the group when we get to Dover!”
Travis cringed. “Now that doesn’t sound very smart. A girl with that attitude can get into a lot of trouble, at home or abroad. I hope she was joking.”
“I think she was. She was just jerking Foust’s chain, and he took the bait, hook, line, and sinker!”
“Fair warning: If
you
do something stupid like that, I will kick your ass!”
“Yes, Dad! Hey, did you call Mom yet?”
“Not yet, but I will as soon as I hang up from you. See you tomorrow.”
Angel returned as he was hanging up. “Trouble?” she asked.
“No, just kids being kids! Now I need to make a call to the States. Can I do that from this phone?”
“Certainly. Give me the number.”
The phone rang at the Lee residence in Laurel Grove, and Rebecca answered.
“Rebecca, is that you?”
“Yes, Dad! I am glad to hear from you. Mom has been trying to reach you.”
“Better put her on the phone then.”
“She is not here right now.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone to town.”
“Man! I was hoping to talk to her! Do you know what she tried to call me for yesterday?”
“Yes, but I don’t think it is important now. Did you know Bob Deason?”
“Yes. Why?”
“He died in a house fire yesterday. His house burned to the ground, with him in it.”
“That must be what she wanted to tell me.”
“I think so.”
“Is everything okay there at home?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, this call is probably costing someone a fortune, so I’d better go. Tell Janice that I called, and if she needs me to call the Hotel.”
“Will do, Dad. Bye!”
“Is everything hunky-dory in Alabama?” Angel asked.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Good! Then there is nothing to worry about! I can have your full attention!”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Would you care for a drink?”
“No thank you.”
“What about a cup of coffee?”
“That sounds better.”
“So, come to the kitchen, and over a cup of coffee you must tell me all about your arrest in Canada for murder!”
“Sure, but there’s not much to tell.”
“Oh poppy-cock! I have seen how you write! There is always something to tell. I am three-fourths of the way through your new manuscript, ‘Behind the Green Door’, and it is unbelievably spine-tingling!”
“So you like it?”
“Yes! I love it! Over coffee, you must tell me how it is going to end!”
“Nope, it’s best that you read it for yourself.”
“Yes, you are right. Have a seat, and I will pour the coffee.”
* * *
When Rebecca got off the phone with her Dad, she felt bad, because she had deceived him into thinking that everything was fine, when it really wasn’t. But she had done it on orders from Janice.
An hour earlier, Janice had been, not arrested, but ‘brought in for further questioning’ by the Arlington County Deputies. This was in response to their questioning of Penelope, which had raised some questions about Janice’s earlier statement. As she was being led away, Janice told Rebecca not to mention any of this to Travis, if he should call. That was why she felt as though she had lied to him.
She had supper ready and on the table, but the boys were out in the garage, working on their play costumes. They didn’t know that their mother had been hauled off. And on Janice’s orders, she was not to tell them where she really was. No need to blow this all out of proportion. They could come eat when they got ready.
The phone rang again, and she almost dreaded to answer, for fear that it could be more bad news.
“Hello, Rebecca? This is Miranda.”
“Oh! Hello Miranda! So good to hear from you again! What have you been doing lately?”
Not being able to tell Rebecca what she had
really
been doing lately, namely, cutting up the body of a Federal Judge, and hiding it, she decided not to mention it. Instead, she got to the reason she had called.
“I just had a new pool put in, and so I an having a pool party on Saturday. I called to see if you, Janice, and the boys want to come to the party.”
“That sounds wonderful! Janice is not here right now, but I’m sure she will be free by Saturday. At least, I hope so. I know the boys will jump at the chance. I know I will be there. Can I bring my boyfriend, Stan?”
“Sure! The more the better!”
“What time Saturday?”
“11:00 am until whenever. I will cater all the food and drinks, so bring nothing but your bathing suits. I will e-mail you the directions to my new house out here in Kellerman. I assume your Dad is still in England?”
“Yes, I just talked to him on the phone. Oh, did you know that his book is #1 on the best-seller’s list in England?”
“No, I didn’t! Well, it seems that he is finally getting the recognition he deserves for his writing. Tell him to call me when he gets back, so I can congratulate him!”
“I will.
* * *
Back in England, Travis was seated at the kitchen table in the country estate, Angel was pouring him a cup of coffee. “Cream and sugar?”
“Cream, but no sugar, and ice.”
“Ice? In a cup of hot coffee?”
“Yes, I can’t drink hot beverages because of a war injury. Half my intestines were blown away in Vietnam.”
“You don’t say! Was that the only injury you received in Vietnam?”
“No, I am covered with scars. I was awarded five Purple Hearts.”
“So did you lose any other organs in the war? Any
more
important
organs?”
“By ‘more important’ I suppose you mean sexual organs?”
“Of course!”
“No, I have had five kids since the war.”
“Thank goodness! I was starting to think that I was wasting my time in manipulating things to get you and I alone! I intend to win that bet, Travis!”
“Not a chance.”
“So tell me about this man you were supposed to have murdered in Canada.”
“His name was Ronald Fallon, the founder of Maple Leaf Publications. The same Ronald Fallon who sold my book rights to your father.”
“So you were accused of killing Ronald Fallon, but the surveillance camera proved you didn’t do it?”
“That’s right. A woman beat me to it. I had my knife out, ready to cut his throat, when she shot him. I was a tad pissed off, because I was wanting to kill him myself!”
“Would you have really killed him over such a thing?”
“Oh yeah! No problem! I was a trained killer in the Special Forces, so it doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh my! So here I am, a defenseless woman, looking for love, but instead of a lover, I find myself alone in a country cottage with a killer instead! No one can possibly hear my cries for help! You may rape me all you want, Travis, but please don’t kill me! I promise I will not go to the police!”
“Nice try, but you’re still not winning that bet.”
“You can’t blame a girl for trying! So tell me more about yourself.”
“Like what?”
“About wanting to kill Fallon. About your years with the Special Forces. About your writing! My god, you are such an interesting man, Travis! Tell me more about you!”
“I’m a coal miner. What’s so interesting about that?”
“I have found that coal miners actually have very colorful lives.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I think it is because coal mining is such a drab, colorless job, that you must overcompensate in other ways. You travel the world, you do things that most people don’t do. You write, as a way of expressing yourself in ways that you can’t in your drab, mundane life. You create, because you can.”
“You may be partially right. You seem to be very insightful in figuring out people.”
“I have had a lot of experience at that. This job as a publisher is just a sideline to my real calling. I love to interpret people! Just like I see you as a person who does not like to be in the lime-light. Every time I give you an opportunity to talk about yourself, and brag on your accomplishments, you brush that off, and instead, get me talking about myself! So I think what we have here, Travis, is two people who are more alike than we care to admit! What do you think about that?”
“I think you are probably right. We come from different backgrounds, but we have arrived at the same place, for the same reasons.”
“That is usually the basis for becoming soul mates! Do you agree?”
“That’s a broad statement. There are probably a lot of different reasons for becoming soul mates. There is probably as wide a range of criteria for that, as there are different people on this planet. Similarities and differences have little to do with it. It is the chemistry between two people that make them soul mates. And your definition of ‘soul mate’, might be different from mine.”
“That is true. So tell me, what influenced you to want to write?”
“I liked to read, and I enjoyed a good story. So I wanted to write something that would give others the same enjoyment. It amazed me that fiction just came out of thin air, and it is satisfying to create something out of nothing.”
“You had no formal training as a writer?”
“No. I just read a lot, and noted the writing styles of the authors I read. From that I developed my own style, which some critics have called ‘crude and undisciplined’.”
“I would call it ‘interesting and creative’. An artist in any medium has the right, or the ‘artistic license’, to depart from the rigid traditional forms of his medium. That is the only way to capture the true psyche of younger, less sophisticated generations, of which we are a part. In this way, writing ‘evolves’ over the generations. I admire the fact that your ‘undisciplined’ style of writing, is a reflection of our generation. In later years, it will no doubt become a classic style, which younger generations will emulate, and evolve from.”
“Do you really think so, or are you just trying to butter me up?”
“Oh, I am definitely trying to butter you up, but I also know what I am talking about. I have read thousands of manuscripts, and believe me, I have seen bad manuscripts, and I have seen good ones, and I occasionally see a great one. Yours is one of the great ones, and my father agrees. He has been in this business much longer than I. When we purchased ‘The Relic’ from Maple Leaf, we knew we had a winner, and could not believe that it had been submitted to such a hack publisher as Maple Leaf.”
“Well, that was
my
fault. I should have shopped it around to more reputable publishers before letting Maple Leaf have it. But I was new to publishing, and didn’t know better. I just hope I am on a better path now.”
“Oh yes! Jester will treat you right! I guarantee it! My father and I were discussing that last night. If we can secure you as a permanent fixture with Jester Books, both we and you will greatly benefit. We already have done a great job in promoting your first book, and we can have the reading public salivating to get your second one!”
“Sounds good. Perhaps I should sit down with your Dad and discuss this thing.”
“Yes, he was thinking the same thing, and he asked me to extend a dinner invitation to you for tomorrow night. I will not be there, just you and he, as he likes to say, ‘getting down to the brass tacks’ of an agreement. Can you make such a meeting at my father’s office, tomorrow at 6 p.m.?”
“I think I can arrange to be there.”
“Good! I will give you the address, and inform him of your willingness to discuss a deal.”
“And our 5 pound bet has nothing to do with this meeting?”
“Of course not. Our bet is a personal thing, between us. Would you like a touch of brandy in your coffee?”
“Sounds good.”
They talked and laughed on into the night, and early morning hours. And in the process, developed a friendship, and a mutual understanding that would make their relationship different from that point on.
* * *
Janice met Saul Lugman at the police station in Arlington, as she was being brought in for questioning, and he requested to speak with her in private before she was questioned.
“We have a problem, Janice. Penelope is telling a much different story than you told the investigators, so now begins the sticky process of the prosecutor trying to figure out which one of you is lying.”
“But I told the truth!” Janice demanded.
“Yes, and I believe you. But Penelope is saying that the whole thing, the murder, the arson, and everything was
your
idea.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Of course it is, but the prosecutor still has to question you about it. He is going to try to rattle you by poking holes in your earlier testimony. As long as you stick to what you testified earlier, and he believes you, then everything is fine. You are a much more credible witness than Penelope, because from what I understand, they have already caught her with inconsistencies in her story, so it important that you stick to your previous testimony. If there was anything you
didn’t
tell earlier, you need to tell me now, so that it doesn’t blind-side us later.”