Body in the Woods, page 2
He merely smiled and ignored the insult. He knew damn well they were more than interested.
“Well, it’s like this. You either ride with it or it runs over you.”
He continued smiling his cocky smile.
The other two men sitting opposite him looked annoyed and, as hard as it had to be for them, refrained from saying anything.
“Interesting indeed!” Katz commented, obviously not meaning it.
“Yes, isn’t it?” He replied, matching Katz’s insincerity ounce for ounce.
“So why don’t you explain this incredible deal that you’ve been bragging about?” Katz replied.
“Let me start by telling you, you are not the only entity I’m talking with. There are five in all. You are one of those five and all fit my stringent requirements. It doesn’t mean only five will do, but five of you are ideal. I believe Mr. Morris was saying in effect, ‘you son-of-a-bitch. You want us to protect you from the vultures, but also want to dictate all the terms.’ He is absolutely correct.”
“But we do fit the bill?” Katz asked. “What a relief.”
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. Smiling at the five men, he let a little more cockiness show.
“Do you want to hear the terms or should I find my own way out?”
“No, no. By all means. Please continue.”
“Good decision. Here’s how I’d like it to be. As I said, my firm will retain exclusive rights to manufacturing this—”
Katz interrupted. “We were only asking fair questions.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t the least bit apologetic.
“You’re knit-picking before you’ve heard the whole project.”
“No, we are not.”
“If I’m wasting your time, Mr. Katz, let’s call it quits right now.”
Katz eyed both Marin and Morris. All three men were unsuccessful in hiding the greediness in their eyes.
“As I was trying to say, my company produces the product. Your company distributes to Uncle Sam. But, I will make this very clear. Your company only distributes. You’re not permitted to produce here. Since my company is not known nationally, let the world know that Katz/Marin Inc. is the sole distributor. I sell it to you and you turn around and sell at whatever price your heart desires. With that in mind, I’d like to have an answer within the next week.”
“Within the next week…Well, we will certainly take this under advisement and let you know our decision as soon as possible.”
With that, he packed up his demonstration, picked up his briefcase, and stood up.
“Thank you, gentlemen. It’s been a pleasure.”
CHAPTER 3
Leaving the sprawling complex, he acknowledged the danger he was in. For one thing, he knew the CIA was tailing him; had been for quite a while. And, since he’d met with the Iranians, Mossad was more than likely following his activities as well. But he was confident he could outsmart them all.
One thing was unescapable. He knew the Israelis wouldn’t give up their pursuit of him. He also knew for a fact that they had killed two of Saddam’s nuclear scientists and had bombed the Iraqi nuclear facilities in 1986. More recently, there were seven engineers in Turkey who had been ‘accidentally’ killed. All seven had been top scientists at a company which built Turkish weaponry. All the fingers pointed to both the CIA and Mossad.
As he drove his Mercedes SUV through the back roads that wound through the hills of Moore Park, he noticed a dark two-door sedan with tinted windows following closely. Too closely. He took a quick right turn, then another right turn, stopped his car, and waited. Even though the black sedan hadn’t followed him, he waited another twenty-five minutes before continuing on.
Reaching the outskirts of Wild Oaks where his home was located, he kept checking in his rearview mirror. This time he noticed a yellow jeep. He drove past the turn-off for his house, took a long meandering circular route, and eventually the jeep left his sight.
Living by himself, he had no one to answer to. He’d never married, probably for the better. He was an impatient man and there was no woman alive who would tolerate him long term. A wife would only have been a headache to him. Children? What on earth for? Only another unnecessary distraction and a drain on his ever-increasing funds.
He satisfied his needs by going to massage parlors, frequently paid for prostitutes, and occasionally picked up women at local clubs, some of whom he brought home, but never the same woman twice. He employed a full-time housekeeper to take care of the house and her brother took care of the maintenance of both the home and gardens. He provided them living quarters in a small cottage located at the back of his sprawling property.
Checking his watch, it was 5:30 in the afternoon, June 20, 2018. Per his explicit instructions, his housekeeper served dinner promptly at 6. Pushing the automatic garage door opener, he waited impatiently as it slowly opened. After parking his SUV, he pushed the button by the back door to close the garage door.
After it was closed tightly, he opened the back compartment and took out the metal box. Pushing aside the thick rubber matting, he lifted the lid to the safe place he’d built into the garage floor. After placing the metal box inside the tight space, he lowered the lid and pulled the heavy rubber matting back over the opening.
As he entered the house he acknowledged his housekeeper, but didn’t speak with her. She set his dinner on the dining room table, poured his glass of wine, and then discreetly removed herself to the kitchen. He refused to have useless conversations with people, especially those working under him. It was a waste of time to talk with people who couldn’t follow his way of thinking.
After dinner he went upstairs to the master bedroom. Sliding the balcony doors open, he walked out and stood facing the west and the late afternoon California sun. He made a mental note that the sliders were becoming harder to open and perhaps needed replacing. Thinking of doing the work himself, he quickly abandoned the idea. He had people to do that.
As he perused the skyline, he noticed a yellow jeep parked down the street. The same jeep that had followed him not even an hour earlier. They knew where he lived. Of course they did. It wasn’t that hard to find out such things.
His thoughts went immediately to the intricate plans he’d developed over the last year.
He was ready if he had to be.
Was it time to put everything into motion?
Du gottverdammter. Bastard! All I needed was one more week and I would have closed the deal of a lifetime!
CHAPTER 4
Monday, July 2
My given name is Jacques Ludefance, Jack for short. If I had to describe myself? I’m 44, six-foot-two, with a long face, high cheek bones, dark hair and mustache, and deep green eyes, which have always been a hit with the ladies. On the downside there is a deep scar on my right cheek, the slash extending from my eye to my lip that not even my deep tan can hide, which is definitely not a hit with the ladies. They either back off, or are curious as to how it happened. My standard answer is short and simple - alligator bite. Growing up in Louisiana, I did crazy things as a kid. Tangling with alligators was one of them.
In my previous life I was a navy pilot on the Prowler. After the service, I returned to my small hometown near New Orleans, married my high school sweetheart who was the proverbial “girl next door,” and tried out a number of career occupations. Neither the marriage nor the mundane occupations lasted.
Leaving New Orleans behind, I moved to Santa Rosaria, a small, quiet beach town located in the Florida Panhandle. After completing a 40-hour Florida Private Investigator Training Course, I received my license to practice, and have the distinction of being the only private investigator in the area.
I’d just completed the biggest case of my life, the takedown of Jonathan Holler, a local businessman who had operated some very dirty businesses below the radar for far too long. It was a long, complicated, and frustrating investigation, during which time not only did I nearly lose my life, but my floating home, THE LUNA SEA, had been blown up. The one good thing to come out of it all, other than Holler being arrested, was my meeting Lee.
Lee and I had only been together a little over two months, but in the last week she had suddenly pulled away and distanced herself. I’d planned a romantic getaway for the 4th of July, hoping to get things back on track, but she hadn’t returned either my calls or texts.
What confounded me more than anything was how close we’d become in that short amount of time. Lee even accompanied me back to New Orleans to visit my father, who was in the late stages of Alzheimer’s. She’d met my father’s companion, Deloris, and my sister Margeaux. Both women instantly liked her. But then, what was there not to like?
Late Monday afternoon, I positioned myself down the street from where Lee worked, which happened to be the offices of my lawyer where I’d met her late last year. At 5 pm, she came out of the building, walked towards the parking lot, and retrieved her car. As she pulled out into rush-hour traffic, I pulled out two cars behind and started following her.
She ended up pulling into Applebee’s across the street from Sacred Heart Hospital on 9th Avenue. I watched as she parked her car and walked to the entrance where a tall Asian fellow stood smiling as she approached. After a quick hug and kiss, they proceeded into the restaurant. I was able to take pictures with my iPhone, still not sure how I was going to proceed. What was the point? She’d obviously found someone else.
What was I trying to prove? I certainly couldn’t make someone love me. I should just say goodbye and be done with it. Dejected and disappointed, I started my car and headed home. My love life was a trail of disappointments. I should’ve known by now no woman in her right mind was going to live with me and put up with my lifestyle. It always came down to keeping my career or having a wife and settling down. But, what would I be settling for? A mundane life, 9-5 job, and all that goes with it? I’d tried it once and it hadn’t worked.
I relished my job as a private investigator. Women liked the excitement for a while, but soon lost their enthusiasm. Either I’d have to quit this job and the life that I loved, or forget about ever being a happily married man. The two just didn’t mix.
Driving back towards Santa Rosaria, I crossed over Pensacola Bay Bridge and entered Gulf Bend. Traffic slowed as it always does at this time of day. I didn’t get back to my cottage until a little after 7 pm. After parking my RX7 in the garage, I unlocked the front door, turned off the security system, and proceeded to try and find something to eat.
Grabbing a Samuel Adams from the fridge, I realized I really wasn’t hungry. Why was I trying to stuff myself with food? Simple answer. I ate when I was disappointed or frustrated.
As I stood at the kitchen sink looking out into the backyard, I took a gulp of beer and glanced over at the landline phone sitting on the counter. The message light was blinking. I kept the landline only because it was part of a package with Internet and cable that had come with the cottage when I started renting it.
I don’t get many calls as most of my calling is done on my iPhone. The ones I do get are usually scammers or telemarketers. I pressed the playback button. Three messages. One was from an insurance agent and one was just dead space. The third was from a familiar voice.
“Jack, this is Vance McGruder. I couldn’t find your cell number so I’m taking a chance on reaching you at the cottage. It’s Monday afternoon and I need you here as soon as possible. I’ve arranged for a one-way, first-class ticket on Delta Air Lines on their 3:15 pm flight tomorrow afternoon to Atlanta and connecting on to LAX. I’ll have a car and driver at LAX to pick you up. Call me as soon as you get this message.”
I picked up the phone and hit the redial button.
“Jack, thank God. You got my message.”
There was an urgency in his voice that surprised me.
“Vance! What’s so important that you bought me an airline ticket?”
“Jack, I can’t really talk on the phone. I’m in a desperate situation and you’re the only one I can trust to help me.”
“All right, Vance. Can you at least give me some clue as to what the problem is?”
“Jack, I’m under suspicion for murder. That’s all I can tell you right now. I know it’s short notice and if you’re on a case, I’m begging you to put it on hold. I need you.”
There wasn’t any hesitation on my part. “I’ll be on that flight, Vance. See you tomorrow evening.”
This development would certainly take my mind off Lee. At least for the time being. Destiny? Who knows? I should be used to the let-downs by now. But my stomach ached. You know. It was that kind of pain. I’d had it as a child when my mother left my father. I’d had it when my wife left me. I’d had it when Judge Hendrix ended our brief affair. And now I had it with Lee, who I had such high hopes for a long-lasting relationship.
I willed myself to stop. I needed to pack. How long would I be gone? No way of knowing with Vance’s situation. After retrieving my roll-aboard from the garage, I opened the closet and realized I had nothing clean. All my shirts, jeans, and underwear were dirty and in a huge pile ready to be washed. After separating the clothes, I started a load. Retreating back to the kitchen, I made myself a sandwich and grabbed another beer.
There was nothing on TV other than local news, so I switched to Channel 550 and turned up the classical music, hoping it would calm my nerves. But I couldn’t get Vance’s words out of my mind. Under suspicion for murder? That’s a serious thing, but I had no idea why he wanted a PI from Florida there.
I dozed off on the sofa, but woke to a roaring sound as the washer was finishing its final spin. I switched out one load to the dryer and put another load with my jeans and shirts into wash. It was after midnight when I finally finished and packed what I hoped would be enough to carry me through. I took out my suit, realized it could use a dry cleaning, but figured that could wait until I got to L.A.
Opening my safe, I wondered how much cash I should take with me for expenses. Counting out $6000, I figured if I needed any more than that, Vance could advance on what he was going to pay me.
I finally got to bed a little after 3 am.
CHAPTER 5
Tuesday, July 3
I’d set my iPhone alarm and glad that I had. It was after 10 am and there were still things to be done. First on the list was to make sure all my bills were paid in full for the month. Then I completed an online mail hold request starting tomorrow and going out the maximum 30 days allowed, set the lawn’s water pump on auto, and gave a sigh of relief that I’d kept the same yard man that had been doing the lawn for the past several years.
My last chore was to prepare my gun and ammunition for flight travel. After a shower and shave, I dressed in a pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt, and packed my laptop and charger in my backpack. On a last-minute whim, I stuck my passport into a small interior pocket and zipped it shut. No reason. But I’d rather be prepared for whatever came up rather than regretting I’d left something at home that I needed.
My next decision was to either drive my RX7 and park it at the airport or leave it in the garage and call for a taxi to take me. Taking a taxi won out.
Once at the airport, I checked in at the Delta counter.
“Yes, Mr. Ludefance. We have your ticket and seat assignments confirmed. If you’d like, I’d be happy to check your roll-aboard for you and you can pick it up at LAX.”
“Thanks. I do have a gun packed.”
“I see. And, you’ve followed the procedures for packing?”
“Yes, of course.”
“No, problem, then, I’ll just have you fill out this form.”
The agent printed off my boarding passes, indicated that I’d been randomly selected for pre-check, and instructed me to go upstairs and follow the pre-check signs. It’s amazing how the TSA agents treat you once they see that designation. No taking off my shoes or belt. Nice. The only requirement was to place my laptop in one of the bins. Luckily, the pin in my ankle didn’t set off the alarm.
Boarding for first class was announced and as I was taking my seat a flight attendant offered me a drink. Drink? Nice touch, but decided on black coffee for now. Yup. You heard that right. I’d finally given up cream. Not that it would help much with my weight. But it was the first baby step.
As the plane filled and the boarding door was closed and secured, the lead flight attendant made the standard announcements. Take-off was on schedule and a short 43 minutes later the pilot was announcing our landing in Atlanta.
Coming in at Concourse B, I checked the signs for my next flight and decided to stretch my legs and walk the distance to Concourse A. First class was called for boarding and I found my seat 4B, took out my laptop and stowed my backpack in the overhead. Settling in my seat I was about to turn on my computer when a beautiful Black flight attendant approached.
“Mr. Ludefance? My name is Janine and I’ll be serving you today. I have champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice, or I can combine and make a mimosa for you?”
“Do you have a Samuel Adams by any chance?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry we don’t. But we do have Blue Moon.”
“That’ll be fine.”
I watched her as she walked back to the galley, looking over her shoulder at me and smiling. She soon returned with my beer and a small dish of nuts. After we were airborne, Janine did indeed take good care of me with all the beer I could handle.
Dinner was served as if I was dining in a five-star restaurant, beginning with appetizers, then a main course, and finally dessert. Before landing there was another light snack served, along with my black coffee. I’ve traveled to Los Angeles before, but it was never anything like this. This was total comfort.
