The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,85
all questions,” he said. “Let’s have a drink!”
That was something we all could agree on; I was beginning to favor the idea of alcohol, so we moved 10 feet into the kitchen area and sat around the table. I was a little bit flustered but figured I could wait to hear how Dr. Franklin Burke escaped death at the hands of the cartel. We drank a bit; Walter and Dr. Burke had a few beers; I remained the teetotaler. I wanted to be sharp when I heard the explanations.
“Okay, Randall, here sits Dr. Burke. He’s alive. He needs a place to stay for a few days. Can he impose on you?”
“I see that he’s alive. What I want to know is… if he’s here, who got blown up at the hospital?”
“Oh!” said Walter. “Well, nobody really. A dummy was sitting in his car when it went up.”
“A dummy?” I asked. “You mean to tell me that there are cops and firemen poring over the death of some store mannequin?”
“A crash-test dummy…,” offered Walter.
“…poring over the death of a crash-test dummy? What happens when they find out Dr. Burke isn’t in the car? There’ll be a county-wide search, and what happens when they find him here?”
“They’re not going to find him here,” said Walter.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Easy,” he said. “They’ll be watching his home, looking in hospitals and any properties he used to own, his boat, and checking his itinerary; there’s nothing to connect him to you. They’ll be looking through his upper-crust friends, of which you ain’t one.”
I stopped and thought about all Walter had told me. I trusted Walter, but sometimes he did things a little out of the ordinary. Dr. Burke remained silent and drank his beer, watching the two of us.
“Okay, okay, he can stay here. But how did you keep him from getting blown up? There are people out there who’ve got his number!”
“You’re talking about the cartel.” I looked at Walter. “I know all about that,” he said.
“How? How do you…?” I stopped and stood up. I checked my pockets, my belt, belt buckle, jacket pockets, tie. “How do you know all this stuff?” I asked again.
“It’s behind your lapel,” said Walter. “No, your left one.”
I checked behind my jacket lapel, on my left, not his, and there it was, pinned into the jacket. A tiny microphone, with a wire going up a few inches, also pinned in place. It was so light I didn’t even feel it.
“That’s how you knew I needed to call Miss Planter,” I remarked, surprised he would wire me.
“Yes, and also how I found out about the cartel.”
“What cartel?” said Franklin. “Who are these people?”
“These are people who are very mad at you for seeing Susan Lovely,” I said. Franklin looked up quickly, like a deer in the headlights. “They don’t like you getting too close to her and her billions. You’re treading in dangerous waters.”
“How do you know this? How did you know about Susan and me?” he asked.
“We found out when people started talking. Don’t get defensive; we already know all about it. What you don’t know is that there are those who want to kill you for it.”
“Why do they want to kill me? What have I done to them?” said Franklin, almost pleading.
“You’re disrupting their plans for Susan Lovely. They’re afraid if you make her look bad in public, it will hurt the company she’s associated with. And they don’t want that.”
“You mean the ‘Happy Hippy Bikini Company?’ But she hasn’t done any work for them in a long time!” said Dr. Burke.
“No,” said Walter, “He means the Lovely Chocolate Factory.” Franklin looked over to Walter as though he didn’t believe it. Walter continued, “It’s true; there’s a multi-national group that has infiltrated the company and will do anything to make and keep it successful, and that includes bumping-off any ‘problems.’ Get my drift, Dr. Problem?”
“I’m getting the picture. I’m the target,” said Dr. Burke. “I should have listened when they… What about Susan? Is she in danger?”
“No, I’m sure she’s not in any danger,” continued Walter. “They want to keep her healthy and wealthy and in good stead.”
Franklin leaned back in his chair. “That’s good,” he said. Walter and I looked at Dr. Burke. He was genuinely concerned about his girlfriend, even though he had just narrowly escaped death just a few hours earlier.
I turned to Walter. “How did you get to him before the cartel did? How did you save him?”