Hi Everyone:
A Serialized NovelAs each new chapter is published on this blog, the previous chapter(s) should be archived below, so even if you did not read it when it first appeared, you can easily catch up. Your suggestions are appreciated and will receive careful consideration.
RAPE
By
Josh Truxton
9885-A Watermill Circle,
Boynton Beach FL 33437
jjtrus@att.net
©
Copyright 2012
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It is a pleasure to acknowledge my appreciation for the encouragement given me by my wife and first reader, Danielle, and
the constructive criticism of the associates at my literary group, The Writer’s Studio.
CHAPTER 1
Erica Rogers smoothed a lock of long black hair into place and strode toward the glass door leading to her boss’s office.
Gary Sanders glanced up, smiled at the stunning young woman, and waved her into the office.
She frowned at him. “Have you been racing that damned Maserati again?”
“No. One reckless driving charge is enough. Why?”
“There are a couple of men from the Palm Beach Police Department asking to see you.”
“Well, show them in. Maybe they want to sell me tickets to the Policemen’s Ball.”
Gary checked the time on his Rolex, 11:05, and tilted his chair back as the two men, dressed in the tan uniforms of the local department, stepped into his office and introduced themselves, and then Officer Hall, the taller of the two said, “Mr. Sanders our chief wants to talk with you. Please come with us to police headquarters.”
Gary jerked his head back, his square chin jutted forward and lines appeared above his deep-set brown eyes. “Okay, but what’s this all about?”
“We understand that yesterday you called on Miriam West, sir. Is that true?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”
“We’re just following orders, sir. Our Chief wants to see you. Ms. West claims you assaulted and raped her.”
Gary jumped to his feet. “Is this some kind of a joke? You’re kidding, right?”
Officer Hall shook his head and without the slightest sign of a smile said, “I’m afraid not.”
Gary frowned. “Bu—but this must be a mistake.”
Hall shrugged then let his right hand rest on his weapon. “All I know is what I’ve already told you. The woman has filed charges and my Chief sent us to drive you to headquarters.”
“Okay! Okay! I’m coming,” Gary said. “The sooner we get there, the sooner I can straighten this out and get back to work.
“Erica,” he called. “I’m going with these officers. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She stood in the middle of the large, outer office, her eyes narrowed to slits and her forehead furrowed. “Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you.”
Settling into the back of the squad car, on the corner of Coconut Row and Royal Poinciana, Gary looked up at his second story office with its tasteful sign proclaiming Sanders Insurance Agency and wondered how this could be happening to him. Only this morning he had been swimming laps in the pool outside his five-bedroom two- story Palm Beach home on Sandpiper Drive. He recalled how his wife Carol had stood at the end of the pool with terrycloth robe in hand. He had scooped her up in his arms and despite her protests had jumped into four feet of water.
With the kids already in school, that had led to a lot of fooling around that made him happy but late getting to the office; and now this! He heaved a heavy sigh thinking, is this what I get for catering to the wishes of Julia Walsh, Empress of Palm Beach Society, and her spoiled niece, movie star Miriam West?
“It’s not so bad, Mr. Sanders,” Hall’s partner said, “at least you’re not under arrest. The chief just wants to talk with you. You know, get your side of the story.”
Dammed! Gary thought, I don’t have my attorney’s phone number on my cell phone. Wonder if I should call Erica and have her get it for me. Nah! I can call information if I need him. What a mess. How in hell did this thing happen?
Ten minutes later, they reached Palm Beach’s Town Hall and Police Headquarters located in a stylish Mizner designed building sitting between the north and southbound lanes of South County Road.
A cluster of men and women blocked their path. One thrust a microphone on a long boom toward him. They shouted out so many questions that he couldn’t decide which to answer. He heard one reporter say, “That’s Gary Sanders, the big insurance guy.”
The two officers rushed him past the clique of reporters, but not before several flash bulbs went off blinding him. Before he had a chance to catch his breath or survey his surroundings he found himself in a small room with only a table and a few chairs. Officer Hall pointed to one of the chairs. “Have a seat Mr. Sanders. Chief Moore will be with you shortly.”
Gary glanced at his watch. It showed fifteen minutes before noon. He wondered; is the chief going see me before going to lunch? The idea of sitting on a wooden chair while the Chief filled his face didn’t appeal to him. He’d viewed crime shows on television; understood the police tactic of making suspects sweat. He wondered if they had locked the door to the room, or if he was free to get up and walk around. If he didn’t stay seated, did that make him look guilty—guilty of what?
Officer Hall had said that Miriam West claimed he had assaulted and raped her. What proof did she have? For that matter, what proof did he have that he hadn’t? Samuel had seen him go in, but he wasn’t around when he left. Now that he thought about it, other than the butler and Miriam, he hadn’t seen anyone. That’s bad he decided, not a single witness to say I’m innocent. He made up his mind not to get out of the uncomfortable chair no matter how many lunches the chief consumed before seeing him. He glanced at his watch again. Only five minutes had elapsed, it seemed he had been here much longer.
He thought about Chief Moore; he had met him once before; when the man had come to a meeting of the Young Republicans, he had impressed him as a fair and honest official trying to do a tough job in a super-rich community. He doubted the man remembered him.
Gary flinched inwardly as the door opened a few inches. The man on the other side said something he couldn’t make out, to someone else and then pushed the door open and stepped inside. Closing it behind him, the thickly built Moore turned and gave Gary a fleeting smile. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Sanders. I’m sorry it has to be over such a serious matter.”
Gary offered his hand not expecting the Chief to take it. “Me too,” he said in a voice that strained to get out of his tightened throat.
“Can I get you something to drink, water or a Coke?”
He silently cursed himself for having to clear his throat. “No, thank you, I’m fine. Your officers told me that Ms. West has charged me with rape and assault. What can I do to clear myself?”
The Chief ran a hand over the few strands of gray hair that crossed his head, moved a file folder to one side, and placed a small tape recorder on the table. “Tell me about your visit yesterday to Julia Walsh’s house on El Mirasol. Why were you there and what happened during your visit?”
Gary licked his dry lips and told the man all of the details he recalled. When he finished the Chief asked, “Are you sure that you didn’t see anyone else during the time that you were there?”
“No sir. I sure wish that I had.”
“And what time was it when you left?”
“About two-thirty, I think.”
Chief Moore turned off the tape recorder and asked Gary to remove his shirt.
Gary stood and unbuttoning it, allowed the man to see his arms and chest.
“How did you get those scratches on your shoulders? They look fairly recent.”
“I grabbed my wife and jumped in the pool this morning. Just fooling around, you understand. Later when we made love, she scratched me, either in the heat of the moment, or as payback for getting her wet. You can ask her.”
“Don’t worry, I will. They look suspicious. We’ll want to get a photo of that before you leave.”
When the Chief twirled his index finger, he turned to give him a view of his back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the officer’s slight shrug, so he turned around. “Chief, are there any signs of an attack on Ms. West?”
The Chief pulled a color photo from the file folder and placed it on the table. Gary leaned forward and stared at the face of the actress. Disbelief registered on his face as he stared at the cuts beside her left eye and the purplish bruise nearby. “I didn’t do it. I swear—I never laid a hand on her.” He pushed the photo back across the table.
“Well,” the Chief said in a sad voice, “someone did, and as of now, you’re the only one she’s named. We’re looking into the allegations. I know about your reckless driving charge and I checked with the Youngstown police. You had a charge as a juvenile, but the record is sealed. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Not much to tell, I was about twelve at the time. A bunch of us went into a sporting goods store. One of the guys stole a soft ball. Everyone ran; I was the last one out the door. I didn’t have the ball but I got caught.”
The chief grinned. “So you kind of took one for the team.”
“Yeah, I guess so. What about this rape charge? Aren’t there tests you can do?”
“Yeah, we’re trying. I’ll need to get a DNA sample. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure; whatever you need. Am I under arrest?”
Chief Moore shook his head. “Not at this time, but don’t leave town until this is settled.”
Out in the hallway he found Officer Hall who advised him that he’d drive him back to his office. Gary looked at his watch; it was quarter ‘til one. Well that didn’t take long, he thought. Then he reminded himself that nothing had been resolved. The huge sword held over him remained. It’s a long way from over. My God, how am I going to explain this to Carol? Accompanying the officer, he slipped out the back door and took his place in the front passenger’s seat. Within seconds, they were on their way.
Back at Police Headquarters, Miguel Gonzales, the Palm Beach Dispatch’s crime reporter, shoved his microphone close to the doorway that Chief Harrison Moore nearly filled. He felt well prepared; his source was close to Julia Walsh.
“Is it true that the actress Miriam West was raped?”
A murmur went through the crowd of reporters and photographers standing in semi-circle around the doorway.
The Chief shook his head, “That has yet to be established. I can say that she appears to have been assaulted and the attack took place yesterday afternoon about the time that Mr. Gary Sanders of the Sanders Insurance Agency called on her.”
“Are you holding Sanders?”
“No. Not at this time.”
“Chief, is Mr. Sanders the chief suspect in this case?”
“I didn’t say he is a suspect.”
“Then what role did he play in the attack on Ms. West?”
“At this time, I’d say that Mr. Sanders is a person of interest.” With that the Chief
backed-up through the open door, closed, and locked it.
The gaggle of reporters began to disperse. Miguel hurried to his car. Once inside, he pulled out his cell and called Vincent Bernardino, his editor at the Dispatch. When he finished telling him what he knew, Bernardino said, “That’s good Miguel, now here’s what I need you to do. Get background material on this guy Sanders. I want you to dig and I mean deep. I’m pretty sure I know what tomorrow’s headline is going to be and I’m going to need all the info you can find on Sanders.”
“Sure Vince, but just between us, how do you think the headline will read?”
“Miguel, on page one, right above your byline, in big print, it’ll say: PROMINENT BUSINESSMAN QUESTIONED IN RAPE CASE. I sure hope we got a good picture of this guy.”
Miguel Gonzales smiled and let his breath out. “Yeah, Boss, I think we did.”
RAPE
By
Josh Truxton
9885-A Watermill Circle,
Boynton Beach FL 33437
jjtrus@att.net
©
Copyright 2012
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It is a pleasure to acknowledge my appreciation for the encouragement given me by my wife and first reader, Danielle, and
the constructive criticism of the associates at my literary group, The Writer’s Studio.
CHAPTER 1
Erica Rogers smoothed a lock of long black hair into place and strode toward the glass door leading to her boss’s office.
Gary Sanders glanced up, smiled at the stunning young woman, and waved her into the office.
She frowned at him. “Have you been racing that damned Maserati again?”
“No. One reckless driving charge is enough. Why?”
“There are a couple of men from the Palm Beach Police Department asking to see you.”
“Well, show them in. Maybe they want to sell me tickets to the Policemen’s Ball.”
Gary checked the time on his Rolex, 11:05, and tilted his chair back as the two men, dressed in the tan uniforms of the local department, stepped into his office and introduced themselves, and then Officer Hall, the taller of the two said, “Mr. Sanders our chief wants to talk with you. Please come with us to police headquarters.”
Gary jerked his head back, his square chin jutted forward and lines appeared above his deep-set brown eyes. “Okay, but what’s this all about?”
“We understand that yesterday you called on Miriam West, sir. Is that true?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”
“We’re just following orders, sir. Our Chief wants to see you. Ms. West claims you assaulted and raped her.”
Gary jumped to his feet. “Is this some kind of a joke? You’re kidding, right?”
Officer Hall shook his head and without the slightest sign of a smile said, “I’m afraid not.”
Gary frowned. “Bu—but this must be a mistake.”
Hall shrugged then let his right hand rest on his weapon. “All I know is what I’ve already told you. The woman has filed charges and my Chief sent us to drive you to headquarters.”
“Okay! Okay! I’m coming,” Gary said. “The sooner we get there, the sooner I can straighten this out and get back to work.
“Erica,” he called. “I’m going with these officers. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She stood in the middle of the large, outer office, her eyes narrowed to slits and her forehead furrowed. “Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you.”
Settling into the back of the squad car, on the corner of Coconut Row and Royal Poinciana, Gary looked up at his second story office with its tasteful sign proclaiming Sanders Insurance Agency and wondered how this could be happening to him. Only this morning he had been swimming laps in the pool outside his five-bedroom two- story Palm Beach home on Sandpiper Drive. He recalled how his wife Carol had stood at the end of the pool with terrycloth robe in hand. He had scooped her up in his arms and despite her protests had jumped into four feet of water.
With the kids already in school, that had led to a lot of fooling around that made him happy but late getting to the office; and now this! He heaved a heavy sigh thinking, is this what I get for catering to the wishes of Julia Walsh, Empress of Palm Beach Society, and her spoiled niece, movie star Miriam West?
“It’s not so bad, Mr. Sanders,” Hall’s partner said, “at least you’re not under arrest. The chief just wants to talk with you. You know, get your side of the story.”
Dammed! Gary thought, I don’t have my attorney’s phone number on my cell phone. Wonder if I should call Erica and have her get it for me. Nah! I can call information if I need him. What a mess. How in hell did this thing happen?
Ten minutes later, they reached Palm Beach’s Town Hall and Police Headquarters located in a stylish Mizner designed building sitting between the north and southbound lanes of South County Road.
A cluster of men and women blocked their path. One thrust a microphone on a long boom toward him. They shouted out so many questions that he couldn’t decide which to answer. He heard one reporter say, “That’s Gary Sanders, the big insurance guy.”
The two officers rushed him past the clique of reporters, but not before several flash bulbs went off blinding him. Before he had a chance to catch his breath or survey his surroundings he found himself in a small room with only a table and a few chairs. Officer Hall pointed to one of the chairs. “Have a seat Mr. Sanders. Chief Moore will be with you shortly.”
Gary glanced at his watch. It showed fifteen minutes before noon. He wondered; is the chief going see me before going to lunch? The idea of sitting on a wooden chair while the Chief filled his face didn’t appeal to him. He’d viewed crime shows on television; understood the police tactic of making suspects sweat. He wondered if they had locked the door to the room, or if he was free to get up and walk around. If he didn’t stay seated, did that make him look guilty—guilty of what?
Officer Hall had said that Miriam West claimed he had assaulted and raped her. What proof did she have? For that matter, what proof did he have that he hadn’t? Samuel had seen him go in, but he wasn’t around when he left. Now that he thought about it, other than the butler and Miriam, he hadn’t seen anyone. That’s bad he decided, not a single witness to say I’m innocent. He made up his mind not to get out of the uncomfortable chair no matter how many lunches the chief consumed before seeing him. He glanced at his watch again. Only five minutes had elapsed, it seemed he had been here much longer.
He thought about Chief Moore; he had met him once before; when the man had come to a meeting of the Young Republicans, he had impressed him as a fair and honest official trying to do a tough job in a super-rich community. He doubted the man remembered him.
Gary flinched inwardly as the door opened a few inches. The man on the other side said something he couldn’t make out, to someone else and then pushed the door open and stepped inside. Closing it behind him, the thickly built Moore turned and gave Gary a fleeting smile. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Sanders. I’m sorry it has to be over such a serious matter.”
Gary offered his hand not expecting the Chief to take it. “Me too,” he said in a voice that strained to get out of his tightened throat.
“Can I get you something to drink, water or a Coke?”
He silently cursed himself for having to clear his throat. “No, thank you, I’m fine. Your officers told me that Ms. West has charged me with rape and assault. What can I do to clear myself?”
The Chief ran a hand over the few strands of gray hair that crossed his head, moved a file folder to one side, and placed a small tape recorder on the table. “Tell me about your visit yesterday to Julia Walsh’s house on El Mirasol. Why were you there and what happened during your visit?”
Gary licked his dry lips and told the man all of the details he recalled. When he finished the Chief asked, “Are you sure that you didn’t see anyone else during the time that you were there?”
“No sir. I sure wish that I had.”
“And what time was it when you left?”
“About two-thirty, I think.”
Chief Moore turned off the tape recorder and asked Gary to remove his shirt. Gary stood and unbuttoning it, allowed the man to see his arms and chest.
“How did you get those scratches on your shoulders? They look fairly recent.”
“I grabbed my wife and jumped in the pool this morning. Just fooling around, you understand. Later when we made love, she scratched me, either in the heat of the moment, or as payback for getting her wet. You can ask her.”
“Don’t worry, I will. They look suspicious. We’ll want to get a photo of that before you leave.”
When the Chief twirled his index finger, he turned to give him a view of his back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the officer’s slight shrug, so he turned around. “Chief, are there any signs of an attack on Ms. West?”
The Chief pulled a color photo from the file folder and placed it on the table. Gary leaned forward and stared at the face of the actress. Disbelief registered on his face as he stared at the cuts beside her left eye and the purplish bruise nearby. “I didn’t do it. I swear—I never laid a hand on her.” He pushed the photo back across the table.
“Well,” the Chief said in a sad voice, “someone did, and as of now, you’re the only one she’s named. We’re looking into the allegations. I know about your reckless driving charge and I checked with the Youngstown police. You had a charge as a juvenile, but the record is sealed. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Not much to tell, I was about twelve at the time. A bunch of us went into a sporting goods store. One of the guys stole a soft ball. Everyone ran; I was the last one out the door. I didn’t have the ball but I got caught.”
The chief grinned. “So you kind of took one for the team.”
“Yeah, I guess so. What about this rape charge? Aren’t there tests you can do?”
“Yeah, we’re trying. I’ll need to get a DNA sample. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure; whatever you need. Am I under arrest?”
Chief Moore shook his head. “Not at this time, but don’t leave town until this is settled.”
Out in the hallway he found Officer Hall who advised him that he’d drive him back to his office. Gary looked at his watch; it was quarter ‘til one. Well that didn’t take long, he thought. Then he reminded himself that nothing had been resolved. The huge sword held over him remained. It’s a long way from over. My God, how am I going to explain this to Carol? Accompanying the officer, he slipped out the back door and took his place in the front passenger’s seat. Within seconds, they were on their way.
Back at Police Headquarters, Miguel Gonzales, the Palm Beach Dispatch’s crime reporter, shoved his microphone close to the doorway that Chief Harrison Moore nearly filled. He felt well prepared; his source was close to Julia Walsh.
“Is it true that the actress Miriam West was raped?”
A murmur went through the crowd of reporters and photographers standing in semi-circle around the doorway.
The Chief shook his head, “That has yet to be established. I can say that she appears to have been assaulted and the attack took place yesterday afternoon about the time that Mr. Gary Sanders of the Sanders Insurance Agency called on her.”
“Are you holding Sanders?”
“No. Not at this time.”
“Chief, is Mr. Sanders the chief suspect in this case?”
“I didn’t say he is a suspect.”
“Then what role did he play in the attack on Ms. West?”
“At this time, I’d say that Mr. Sanders is a person of interest.” With that the Chief
backed-up through the open door, closed, and locked it.
The gaggle of reporters began to disperse. Miguel hurried to his car. Once inside, he pulled out his cell and called Vincent Bernardino, his editor at the Dispatch. When he finished telling him what he knew, Bernardino said, “That’s good Miguel, now here’s what I need you to do. Get background material on this guy Sanders. I want you to dig and I mean deep. I’m pretty sure I know what tomorrow’s headline is going to be and I’m going to need all the info you can find on Sanders.”
“Sure Vince, but just between us, how do you think the headline will read?”
“Miguel, on page one, right above your byline, in big print, it’ll say: PROMINENT BUSINESSMAN QUESTIONED IN RAPE CASE. I sure hope we got a good picture of this guy.”
Miguel Gonzales smiled and let his breath out. “Yeah, Boss, I think we did.”
If you like the way I write, you may also enjoy one of my electronically published novels. You will find brief descriptions of them on my website: joshswritingroom.com
