The Lovely Chocolate Mob (34 page)

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Authors: Richard J. Bennett

Tags: #Suspense, #Fiction, #Christian

BOOK: The Lovely Chocolate Mob
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“Interested? Where do I… who are you?” said Walter, changing gears in mid-sentence. “How do you get to hire me?”

“I’m in charge of recruiting and training for the Lovely Chocolate Company,” said “Agent Huebner.” My real name is unimportant right now. For Mr. Owen’s sake, I’ll remain a mystery; the less he knows, the better for him. He’s already helped our company into the new era; we don’t want to cause him any harm. The job pays well; would you be interested?”

“I get benefits, okay? And no killing and no stealing; that’s bad.”

“Yes, benefits,” said “Agent Huebner.” “Paid vacations and holidays, health insurance and a retirement plan. No killing, no stealing. Maybe a little ‘borrowing,’ but we always pay people back, with interest.”

“Why me?” said Walter.

“Your technical savvy, your loyalty to a cause, to your friends, and…” “Agent Huebner” smiled and turned to his team, “I have a grudging admiration for a man who doesn’t shoot us out of the sky with heat-seeking missiles!”

The rest of his crew let up a cheer. The Russian “Agent Carter” finally spoke, “We thought we were the dead meat when we saw you with bazooka! We scream like leetle girls; thank you for showing mercy!”

“Aw…” said Walter, looking at the ground. He was actually embarrassed, having been caught doing something right.

He was even more embarrassed when the big Russian picked him up off the ground in a bear hug, turning circles and shaking him all around, to the amusement and laughter of the helicopter group.

Excuses

Heinrich spoke first. “Before we leave, Herr Owen, remember that you have never met or seen any one of us. You will have to disappear for a day or two before returning home. Rest assured that we will never forget you or your friends, but we feel it’s in your best interests to live a quiet life, seeing how you are mostly a quiet man. Do you have any questions before we leave?”

“Yes, I have a few,” I said. “How am I going to explain all of this to the community? My face has been on television as a wanted man in connection with the latest Lovely developments.”

“Our public relations department will take care of most of the damage to your reputation. We have been doing this for years, with excuses, alibis, and cover-ups, etc. You will have to weather the storm until the worst blows over. If the media ask where you’ve been lately, tell them that you were out looking for your friends in the country. They were, after all, close to an explosion!”

That sounded somewhat reasonable. There were a few other loose ends that needed tying up, though. Turning to “Agent Belken,” I asked, “How did you manage to find out about Miss Planter?”

“We have eyes everywhere,” said “Agent Belken.” All we have to do is keep them supplied.”

“Supplied?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly.

“Agent Belken” smiled. “Supplied with chocolate. Most of our informants are blue-collar workers, who trade information for what we offer, a chocoholic’s dream. The man-on-the-street can’t afford our best products.”

I could just see Miss Planter’s secretary dropping a dime on us. I don’t think she ever liked me, anyhow.

The group started walking back to the helicopter, leaving me and Walter standing there. I still had questions. “One more question!” I yelled. Heinrich stopped in his tracks and turned around. I walked closer to him. “If you have paid informants spread through all society, who can be trusted?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

He looked at me with a steely stare and said, “You will survive if…”--I leaned forward to hear clearly what he had to say-- “… you trust no man in business.” While moving his hand down across his facial scar, he added, “and when business is chocolate, trust no woman.”

A lady’s voice could be heard from the helicopter, “Heinrich! Macht schnell!”

“Yes, dear!” he said as he turned to run and, then looking over my shoulder, said, “Valter! Come mit us!”

“Looks like my job starts right now!” Walter said to me. “Here, take the RV back to your house; I’ll get it later, after I get situated at work!” And with that he tossed me his keys and ran after the others, and when he caught up to “Agent Belken,” pulled a small device out of his pocket, handed it to him, and said, “Let’s get off on the right foot. Here’s your bug.”

“Agent Belken” looked surprised, then laughed as he pocketed the device.

Now all the Lovely employees were inside the helicopter. Walter sat where I had sat; the copter started and rose, everyone waving to me, and I could see Walter grinning from ear to ear, looking forward to starting his new life.

The Wait

I drove Walter’s RV back to Estella’s bar and grill, and asked them if I could park it out back for a day or two. Since I was a regular customer now, they knew me, and seeing how I was watching Walter’s RV, they didn’t mind. They seemed glad to have a customer who would be eating breakfast, lunch, and maybe dinner for the next full day, maybe even longer. They said that Walter had a regular spot out back, complete with a water hose, electricity, a line which ran from the bar and grill, and even a sewer connection, which tied into the bar and grill’s own sewer line. Evidently he had spent more time here than I thought.

I thought about calling Helen and explaining the situation to her, but thought better of it since I was still a wanted man. I took the batteries out of my cell phone and got comfortable in Walter’s RV, and fell fast asleep.

The next full day I rested, relaxed, and did absolutely nothing except shower, shave, read, and eat; I read and ate in the restaurant. I tried to keep away from the rest of the patrons, and ate in a booth in the shadows and kept a newspaper in my face. The papers had it all wrong, still, but hopefully with time any misunderstandings would be straightened out. Maybe they’d print a retraction, clear our names, and take our pictures off the front page. There we were, four of us in separate photographs, all lined up in a row… Cornelius Lovely, Susan Lovely, Dr. Burke, and me. Walter had somehow escaped the line-up; maybe it was because he was smarter than all of us. They used my driver’s license picture; couldn’t they have used the portrait I had on the wall at work? At least I appeared to be five years younger.

That night I sat alone again in the grill, and the patrons were playing the television above the bar, when a live news report broke, saying that there had been no murder of Cornelius Lovely, that the missing Lovely inheritance funds had been found, and that Dr. Burke had been the bombing victim of a disgruntled hospital patient.

Pictures of Dr. Burke were shown, with him arriving at his own home, meeting Helen on the front porch. There were multiple videos, with a the reporter explaining that Dr. Burke had been near his car when it exploded, and he’d been walking around with amnesia for a few weeks, until he saw himself on television and realized who he was. Evidently a hospital patient, angry with his bill, had rigged an IED and placed it under a car in the doctor’s parking lot, taking care to pick the most expensive looking one. The mystery bomber was still at large, and the news had labeled him as ”the Doctor Bomber,” and warned other hospital workers to walk or take the bus or bicycles to work.

Photographs were shown of Dr. Burke kissing Helen and then the children coming to the porch to meet their father, and Dr. Burke was videoed kissing and hugging all the children. It looked as though the good doctor was off to a new beginning with his family.

The news then cut to the home of Susan Lovely, who was shown sitting on her couch in a low-cut dress, eating bon-bons and drinking something that Julio was bringing her. In the interview she said, “I’m glad that Frank … Dr. Burke has been cleared of all wrongdoing. I knew he was innocent all along, and I’m also glad that my grandfather died of natural causes and that my inheritance has been restored to its rightful place. Thank you, Julio,” she said as she took a drink off the platter he was holding.

Gregory Jouglard appeared on screen, saying, “We now take you live to the administrative offices of the Lovely Chocolate Company, where KDBC news anchor Darla Bell is speaking with some of the administrative staff.”

The television screen flickered, then showed Darla Bell standing in a room surrounded by official-looking staff members of the Lovely Chocolate business. “Hello, this is Darla Bell with KDBC news at the public relations office of the Lovely Chocolate Company, where company technician Walter Dale will explain the missing funds mystery. Mr. Dale?”

The men at the bar all looked up at the same time when Walter’s name was mentioned, and a few remarked, “Walter! Hey, that’s Dale!” Kim also looked up. Men started walking towards the bar, getting closer to the television, so Kim turned up the volume for them, since a few of them were hard-of-hearing.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Bell. What happened at the Lovely Chocolate Company was a technical, financial mix-up, causing the inherited funds of Miss Lovely to suddenly vanish, or to disappear from her account. What in actuality happened was that, since Cornelius Lovely’s bank accounts are so closely connected to the funds of the Lovely Chocolate Company, when it came time to switch the funds from one account to another, it automatically downloaded the funds from Mr. Lovely’s account into the research and development funds here at the Lovely Chocolate Company. Our computer bookkeeper had been on a leave of absence for personal reasons, so these misplaced funds in our various accounts were not discovered until a few hours ago! They were never stolen, merely misplaced, all because of automation gone wrong.”

Darla Bell: “Wouldn’t you say this is a good reason to have all monetary funds handled manually in the future, especially when the amount of funds is so huge?”

Walter Dale: “Yes, yes, you are absolutely right, Miss Bell. There are some things that machines cannot improve on. And I have a question for you if you don’t mind.”

Darla Bell: “And what is that, Mr. Dale?”

Walter changed demeanors on the spot, leered at her, and said, “Is there a
Mr.
Bell in your life?”

The men at the bar started laughing, Kim shook her head with a grin, and I smiled when I saw the news reporter do a double-take at Walter and the camera before saying, “This is Darla Bell signing off from…” and then stopping since she had forgotten where she was.

By that time, Walter was walking around her, almost strutting, and saying, “As you can see, I’m gainfully employed!”

Miss Bell quickly recouped to say, “Back to you, Greg!”

All the bikers laughed even louder, drowning out the news anchorman with the follow-up story.

There it was. All loose ends had been covered, except for mine. I could go home tomorrow and try to get back to normal.

After all this, I didn’t know if I wanted to get back to normal. Normal was boring.

Home

The next day I unhooked Walter’s RV and thanked the owners of the bar and grill, promising I’d be back for more meals and drinks, and drove toward the city. I listened to the radio all the way back in, but nothing was mentioned of the Lovely murder or missing inheritance or Dr. Burke; only weather and sports and traffic were the big news of the day. I pulled up into my street to find my house, windows shattered and police “Do not cross” tape tied from tree to tree, but there were no police cars around. I ignored the tape and went into my home, which was made easy since my doors had been kicked in. I made a mental note to look into purchasing stronger doors.

There was glass all over the floor, and the carpet and furniture were stained red, probably from the smoke and tear gas that had been shot into my house, as I found out later from the neighbors. They had really enjoyed watching all the developments.

I called the police department, telling them who and where I was. They asked me to come down and give a statement as to where I had been the past few days. I said I would but that I would like to clean up my house first since they had managed to smash it to pieces. The policeman became much nicer after I said that. I told him I didn’t blame the department, since they were only doing their job, and I wasn’t going to hold them liable. I was a big boy now and could buy new doors and windows myself. I guess I was feeling a bit guilty since I had, after all, probably broken the law a few times and led them on a wild goose chase on Lovely Hill. It wasn’t the insurance company’s fault either, so why make them pick up the tab? Good thing there really wasn’t too much damage. It’s just things; they can be replaced.

I decided to quit sweeping up in the middle of the house cleaning, and get a shower and cleaned up and into some clean clothes, hopefully some clothes that didn’t smell like tear gas, and drive downtown to see Miss Planter.

I headed downtown and stopped at Gary Byers’ Florist and picked-up a dozen roses. Gary smiled over the counter and asked, “What’s this for?”

I said, “Oh, nothing,” not wanting to share my personal life; after all, perhaps this might blow up in my face, as things had with Helen.

He replied, “That’s too bad; I thought they were for Miss Planter.”

“They are for--hey, how did you find out about…?” I asked.

“From somebody I don’t know,” smiled Gary, then he added, “On the house. If you like this girl, we don’t charge for classmates.”

I thanked him and told him that was a nice gesture on his part. While I walked towards the exit he said, “Anything I can do for a man on the run!” I laughed at that. I could afford to laugh, now.

I headed towards the medical center and wondered what the heck I was doing. I had never married. I’d never been seriously involved with anyone since Helen. This was new and strange territory for me, but somehow I felt it was a journey that must be traveled.

I parked the RV next to my car; nobody had discovered it yet. There next to my car was Miss Planter’s car. How did it get here? I had the keys, and the last place it was located was at the Lovely Chocolate Company… oh, never mind. They took care of that, too.

I entered the building and decided to be different and take the elevator up to the third floor. I walked down the hall, turned into the mental health area, and greeted Phyllis the secretary, who seemed surprised.

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