Hi Everyone:
I am pleased to publish two chapters, 12 and 13 of
my novel, RAPE. After reading the
chapters, I hope you will comment on them. As you know, your comments and
suggestions influence my revision. If you missed any of the previous chapters,
check the archives.
I also encourage you to
visit my website: joshswritingroom.com/ where you will find,
a short story. You can also check out my e-published novels. If you find one to your liking, you can
purchase it from Amazon.com, or from Barnes and Noble. You’ll find links on the
website taking you right to it.
PATH TO A PARDON,
THE EINDHOVEN
STRATEGY,
& PALM BEACH
STYLE.
As I publish each new chapter, the previous
chapter(s) should be archived, so you can easily catch up. For those who
prefer, here is an encapsulated version of the previous action:
PREVIOUSLY:
RAPE
Prosperous
executive, Gary Sanders, has an appointment at the home of Julia Walsh, the
reigning Empress of Palm Beach. Julia’s niece, Oscar winning actress, Miriam
West, is visiting and has jewelry to insure.
Miriam
accuses Gary of assault and rape. Chief Moore shows Gary a close-up of her
facial cuts and bruises. They await the lab report.
Gary’s
wife, Carol, is furious. Due to a Gary’s past, Carol believes him guilty. She
moves him into the guest room.
Attorney,
Joe Flaherty advises him not to hide, flee or talk. Reporters who publish
stories favoring the actress surround Gary’s home and office. His children are
harassed at school and Gary loses his clients and his major companies.
Neighbors and friends shun Gary and his family.
Prior
to Gary’s arraignment, lawyer Flaherty sends P.I., Jim Bosley, to investigate,
and then visits Carol. When he arrives, he finds her parents have arrived and
plan to take her and the children back to Boston. He tries to persuade her to
stay.
A January court date is set. Gary is
arraigned, and then released on $50,000 bail. When he returns home, Carol tells
him that she and the children are going to Boston to live with her parents.
After
cleaning up his office, Gary stops at a Palm Beach Pub. As he walks to his car,
a Miriam West fan assaults him.
CHAPTER 12
Checking
the refrigerator, Gary found that Hannah had left him one of her delicious
chicken and pasta casseroles. As long as I have Hannah, he mused, I won’t
starve.
He
warmed the bowl in the microwave and opened a bottle of Sam Adams. The cold
beer stung the cut inside his lip.
He
chewed on the right side of his mouth. As he finished his meal, he heard hard
knocking at his front door. Three men and a woman stood in an imposing arc in
front of the partially opened door.
“Good
evening, I’m Manford Lydecker,” the man nearest the door opening said. “I’m
chairman of the neighborhood committee on standards. We have something
important to discuss with you. May we come in?”
“Yes,
of course,” Gary said widening the opening and waving them toward his living
room.
Lydecker
introduced his committee members as Janet, Samuel, and Marvin. Gary shook hands
with each of them and invited them to sit
“I
didn’t know we had a committee on standards.”
“Oh
yes,” Janet said. “We meet whenever an issue needs our attention.”
Gary
frowned, “What needs your attention this evening?”
“I
regret,” Manford Lydecker, said getting to his feet, “that just now it’s you
and your family. We are not unaware of the trouble you are in with the legal
authorities. We understand that these things are extremely distasteful and
hope, for your sake, that they can be resolved without delay. However, most of
your neighbors are quite disturbed over the adverse notoriety you people are
bringing to our peaceful community. They’ve already seen more of the news media
than they want. We believe there is only one remedy for this and we are
prepared to assist in making it a reality.”
“Well,”
Gary felt his throat tighten as he stood, “that’s nice of you but—“
“Please,
Mr. Sanders,” Janet protested, “allow Mr. Lydecker to finish.”
“Yes,
as I was saying, we are prepared to assist you people. It is our committee’s
opinion that the best remedy is for you to sell this property and leave Palm
Beach. We feel you can find suitable housing on the other side of the bridge.
If you consummate a sale in the next sixty-days, we are prepared to reimburse
you for up to $5,000.00 for any repairs needed prior to the sale to make your
home more presentable and up to an additional $10,000.00 to reimburse you for
any actual loss you take on the transaction.”
Each
time Lydecker said, you people in
that superior tone, as though looking down his superior nose, Gary’s eyes
narrowed. He felt as though the skin on his face and at the back of his neck
might burst into flame at any moment. Where the hell did this righteous snob
get off telling him to leave town. Did they think he could be bought? He didn’t
need their charity. Hm, he rubbed a hand across his chin and thought about
throwing them out? Wait a minute don’t be stupid. Randolph Howe always says,
never use your own money if you can use the other fellow’s, and with the stock
market eating up my nest egg this is no time to get uppity. “Lydecker, that’s
an interesting proposal. I’ll keep it in mind. I hadn’t considered selling my
home. If I do sell it, I’ll contact—” he paused, repressed the temptation to
say, you people, instead said, “you.”
Lydecker
produced a business card and placed it on the coffee table. “Mr. Sanders, I
know this kind of thing can prove upsetting. I’ve always found that when a
thing is inevitable but unpleasant it’s best to get it behind me as soon as
possible.” Then looking at the members of his committee he gave them a quick
smile and said, “Come on folks, this meeting is over. Let’s get out of here and
allow Mr. Sanders time to consider our offer.”
Gary
waited until Marvin, the last member of the committee, stepped out the door
before slamming it. Where the hell did he come off talking to me like that—you
people—we’ll assist you people. He walked back to his kitchen and
began stacking the dishes from his evening meal in the dishwasher.
At
least, they didn’t give me an ultimatum, he thought. No, they didn’t act like
one of those western sheriffs in the movies and demand that I leave town on the
next stage. Maybe I made a mistake not telling them where to put their
fifteen-thou. High handed snobs, that’s what they are. They’re high-handed all
right, but effective. I got their message. I guess it’s better than the
anonymous brick through the front window.
No,
they were too civilized to throw a brick. That’s not their style. However, the
next day, someone else did.
CHAPTER 13
Jim
Bosley crushed his cigarette in the Jeep’s ashtray, and signaled for a right
turn off North County Road. Turning onto the semi-circular drive, he noted that
Julia Walsh’s mansion on El Mirasol occupied everything from County Road to the
beach. Her neighbors to the east had gills. A massive, red tile roof jutted out
to shade the second floor windows.
He
parked, straightened his tie and slipped into a gray sport coat before
approaching the front door thirty feet away. Halfway there, it opened and
Miguel Gonzales stepped out. “Hi Boz, I might have known you’d be working this
case. Have you learned anything interesting yet?”
“Hell,
Miguel, I just started. All I know is what I’ve read in your columns. Is the
West babe telling the truth? Did you interview all the hired help?”
“Now
you know I can’t tell you what my sources tell me in confidence. I can tell you
this; Miriam West will make a mighty convincing witness. You can read all about
it in the Dispatch. Are you still working for the Irishman?”
I’m
working for the accused in this frame-up. I’m associated with Flaherty. Have
you got something against him?”
“Hell
no, I like the guy. He makes good copy, and he can usually be counted on for a
good quote, like the one he gave me when he took this case.”
“What
quote? Don’t recall reading it in the paper.”
“That’s
because my editor cut it. Flaherty used his ancestral dialect to tell us that
that the lad, as he called him, had been vilified by the press and the entire
case rested on a lie that no one is trying to disprove.”
Bosley
grinned; “Sounds just like him. Well that’s why I’m here.”
Gonzales
nodded. “Gotta go. Got one more interview to do” He turned, waved, and strode toward a gold
colored, two-door Toyota Corolla, leaving Bosley to scratch his thinning hair
and wonder what, if anything, the reporter had learned and what did he mean,
one more interview to do. Is there someone else involved in this case?
Half
way through the chime sequence the front door opened and a black man, almost as
tall as the detective, and wearing a houseman’s white jacket, blocked his
entry.
“Yes,
how may I help you?”
“I’m
James Bosley. I have an appointment to see Ms. West.”
“Yes
sir, will you please follow me.”
Glancing
to his left, the P.I. spotted a letter on the Butler’s table. The envelope,
addressed to Miriam West had a Hollywood return address but no name. He hurried
to catch up.
At
a pair of ceiling high doors the black man stopped, rapped twice, and then slid
one door back into the wall along its invisible track, either it made no sound,
or his hearing aid had died. Turning to look at the detective he said, “Ms.
Walsh wishes to have a word with you.”
Seated
in a regal-looking, winged-back chair in front of a large bay window, Julia
Walsh, black hair pulled into a French twist to show off gray lightning
streaks, looked up from her book and in a soft voice said, “Thank you, Samuel;
we’ll have some coffee now.” Without waiting for the servant to leave she
gestured toward her chair’s twin, and said, “Please be seated Mr. Bosley.”
He
walked across an intricate patterned tan Persian rug decorated with swirls of
blue and red to use the chair indicated.
“Miriam
sends her regrets. Poor thing, she is just too tired and distraught to meet
with you today.”
“Oh,
that’s a shame. I looked forward to meeting her. Did Mr. Gonzales upset her?”
Julia
gave him a sly smile. “No; he didn’t.”
Bosley
wondered if she meant that the reporter hadn’t gotten to interview her. If not,
did that mean he still needed to interview the movie star? Before he had time
to decide, he heard a knock at the door. Julia looked up, “Enter!” The silent
doors parted; Samuel wheeled a teacart into the room and placed it in front of
his mistress before leaving.
Julia
poured a cup of coffee from the silver server and asked if he’d like cream or
sugar.
He
adjusted the volume on his hearing aid. “Just the black coffee, thank you!”
She
poured a cup for herself and using silver tongs added two lumps of sugar.
Sitting back and stirring her cup she said, “I don’t think people who use cream
really like coffee, do you?”
Bosley
shrugged, “I haven’t given it much thought but you’re probably right. You know
Ms. Walsh__,”
“Do
call me Julia,” she interrupted.”
“Gotyah. My friends call me Jim. Seeing as I
work for Mr. Sanders, I’m kinda surprised you’re willing to see me?”
“Why,
we have nothing to hide. Besides, I always liked Gary. I don’t know why young
men today can’t behave. I’m afraid I can’t help you very much, Mr. Bos. . .
Jim, I wasn’t at home at the time of the incident.”
“If
you don’t mind my asking, do you remember where you were last Monday when Mr.
Sanders came to see Ms. West?” He sipped at the coffee.
“Yes,
shopping. I like to shop at Tiffany; I also stopped in at Kaufmann de Suisse on
Worth Avenue. Do you want to see the sales receipts? I can have Samuel get
them.”
“No,
no; that’s not necessary. What I’d really like to do, if it’s okay with you, is
to interview the servants. How big a staff do you employ?”
Julia
placed her cup and saucer on a side table. “Well, beside the three gardeners
and the chauffer, I have Samuel, a cook, and five maids at present. Do you want
to interview them all?”
Bosley
drained his cup. “I’ll settle for Samuel and the maids for now.”
“Very
well.” She lifted a small bell from the table beside her chair and rang it.
Within
seconds, the tall paneled door slid open and the butler entered. Bosley
wondered if he had been listening. He nodded politely to Julia’s instructions
and then
with a slight wave of his arm,
escorted the detective back toward the front of the house.
Bosley
pulled out a small notebook and pen and on the first page wrote Samuel’s full
name, his years of service and the answers to the few questions he had about
the events of December fifth. When they finished, Samuel introduced him to the
downstairs members of his staff. When they went upstairs, Samuel introduced him
to Henrietta the lone upstairs maid, and left them standing in the corridor
while he returned to his post near the front door.
Bosley
towered over the petite maid, “Henrietta, do you clean all the bedrooms on this
floor by yourself? That seems like a lot of work for one little girl like you
to handle.
“Oh,
no sir, Pattie from downstairs helps me now.
“Tell
me the truth, I’ll make it worth your while,” he held a fifty dollar bill in
front of her. “Did that reporter who came here interview Ms. West?”
“Yes
sir.”
“Ms.
Walsh mentioned a butler, a cook and five maids. There’s somebody missing isn’t
there?”
“Yes,
the other upstairs maid, she don’t work here no more.”
I’ll
bet that’s Miguel’s other interview, he decided. “What’s her name?”
Looking
around, she moved closer and reached for the bill. As her fingers closed on the
bill, his large hand gently clasped her wrist.
“Oh you must mean Consuela, Consuela Arista;
she got herself fired last week.”
“And
what did Consuela do—”
“I
really don’t know, sir,” she interrupted.
“You
didn’t let me finish Pattie. I meant what were her duties?”
“Oh, she took care of Ms. West’s suite.”
“Is
that a difficult job?”
“It
can be. Ms. West is very particular.”
Bosley
ran a hand over his chin; “I see. Perhaps she didn’t do a good job.”
Henrietta
frowned, “No sir, Consuela is very good at her job. I know they didn’t send her
away for that.”
The
detective nodded and kept on nodding with one eyebrow raised, and his grip on
her wrist tightening. Pattie looked up and down the hall corridor, and then
whispered, “Samuel said she had been insubordinate and that can’t happen in
this household.”
Bosley wrote the missing maid’s name on a
blank page and added the word: insubordinate and a large question mark then
closed his notebook and thanked Pattie for her help. “I’ll give you another
twenty if you can tell me where she went”
“I
don’t know if she went home or not, but she lives in Lake Worth. I don’t know
exactly where.”
Samuel
met him at the foot of the steps.
Bosley
scratched at his sideburn flipping an imaginary coin; heads Miguel needs to
find the fired maid, tails he knows where to find Consuela. I’ll bet tails, and
if I’m right, I’ve got no time to waste finding her. After stepping out the
door, he turned to face Samuel and asked, “To whom was Consuela insubordinate?”
Samuel
looked over his shoulder and then whispered, “To Ms. Miriam.” The door closed
behind him before Bosley had time to reply.
