Debts Unsettled, page 26
“Mr. Benedetti, thank you for calling.”
“No problem, but please call me Bernie. Sorry I missed you, but I took the missus out to dinner. Friday night, ya know. What do you need, Mr. Mays?”
“And, Bernie, you can call me Michael. I just finished talking with your neighbor Gus about Daniel Wygal. Do you have time to talk? I can turn around and be there within minutes.”
Bernie said, “Only if you’ve got a bottle of wine in your hand,” then laughed. “Yeah, I knew Daniel. I’m okay with talking about him.”
“Great. Red or white wine?”
“We’re red people, Michael.”
“I’ll be right there.”
48
“Hey,” Bernie said, as he opened the front door and saw a man standing on the porch, holding up a bottle of red wine in each hand, “you must be Michael. You’re not going to get us drunk and trick us into making you the sole beneficiary in our will, are you?”
“Well, I am an attorney, and it’s been said we have no boundaries.”
Bernie laughed. “But I suspect you do, Michael. Come on in.”
Bernie could play the quintessential Italian grandfather/restaurant owner in a movie.
His wife joined them, holding a corkscrew and three wine glasses. “Michael, meet my wife, Gina.”
Gina could be the grandmother hosting the restaurant’s family table. Even gray hair pulled back… all she needs is an apron.
“Hi, Gina, so nice to meet you.”
“You too, Michael.” She picked up a bottle and opened it. After removing the cork, she placed the bottle and the corkscrew on the coffee table. She gave Michael a hug. “Sorry for ignoring you, but the wine had me focused.” She poured three glasses of wine and handed one to Michael.
“Thank you. I didn’t take it as ignoring me, maybe a little rude,” Michael joked, “but not ignoring.”
Gina smiled, and Bernie said, “I’m used to it, Michael.” Gina elbowed him. “Ow,” Bernie said, “I’d rather be ignored.”
Michael held up his glass. “Apology accepted.”
Bernie also raised his glass. “Thank you for providing the wine, Michael. Now, what do you want to know?”
Gina said, “But first, have we met, Michael? Bernie, does Michael look familiar to you?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it, yeah.”
“I sure feel like we’ve met, Michael?”
“Not that I know of, Gina.”
“Hmm? Okay,” Gina said, but continued to study Michael. “But back to Bernie’s question.”
“Earlier this evening, I was talking to your neighbor, Gus. We discussed the house he owns, which a man named Daniel Wygal once owned.”
“Yes—Gus is a good friend—but we haven’t seen Daniel since they sent him to prison.”
Gina added, “But Daniel didn’t own the house. His family did.”
Michael took a sip of wine and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “That’s what Gus told me. He said he bought it from the Wygal Family Trust in 1989.”
Bernie looked at Gina. “That sounds right, doesn’t it, Gina?”
“Yes, that was the year. And there was no family. The Trust was only Daniel. We were told his father established it for him years before.”
Bernie took a drink and looked at Michael for a few seconds. “Why are you interested in Daniel’s house?”
“It’s Daniel I’m most interested in. Gus told me you lived here when Daniel was arrested and sentenced to life in prison.”
“Yes. We moved in about the same time as Daniel.”
Gina corrected him. “We moved in six months before he did.”
Bernie raised his glass. “Mother knows best.”
“What you may not know is they paroled him a few weeks ago.”
Gina again looked at Bernie. “No, that we haven’t heard.”
“He was the primary suspect in the death of several other women, my mother being one.”
“Oh no, Michael,” Gina said, “I’m so sorry you lost your mother. How old were you?”
“I was only 12.”
“That means she was young. How tragic. That breaks my heart. Who would do such a thing?”
“Daniel Wygal would. I only recently learned of him, but I’m convinced he killed my mother. I’m looking for memories that may lead me to evidence the police can use.”
Bernie said, “We’d love to help you, but how can we?”
“Tell me about your relationship with Daniel?”
“I couldn’t call it a relationship,” Gina said. “he didn’t have a relationship with anyone in the neighborhood. We held neighborhood get-togethers, here at our place, every three months. We always invited him.”
“So, you invited him, but he didn’t attend?”
Gina looked at Bernie. “He was here half the time, but he wasn’t very social,” Bernie said. “He wasn’t rude—”
Gina jumped back in. “He was here, but it was clear he didn’t enjoy being around people.
“Near the end of every get-together, we took a group photo. Bernie set up his tripod and used the self-timer on his camera.” She looked at Bernie and said, “Daniel never smiled in even one of those pictures, did he, honey?”
“No, I always felt sorry for him. It was like he never learned how to be a friend or act around others.”
“Gina, you mentioned group photos,” Michael said. “Have you kept them?”
“Kept them,” Bernie laughed, and slapped Michael on the shoulder, “heck, she’s kept every one of them. Catalogued and dated, along with the rest of our photos.”
“Oh, Bernie…” Gina’s face reddened. “We retired years ago, Michael. I keep things organized. That’s who I am.”
Michael tried not to let his excitement show. “Can I look at them, Gina?”
“I’ll see if I have a flash drive. If I do, you can have all of them.”
“What?” Michael’s excitement showed.
“I was an Administrative Assistant for years and began using PCs when they first came out. I believe it was in 1983. At least that’s the year my boss gave into me pushing him for one. So, I’m good with computers. Again, it came natural for me to digitize our old photos and categorize them.”
“Wow, Gina. I’m impressed. I have a flash drive in my backpack. It’s in my car. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, we’ll be here enjoying your wine,” Bernie said.
Michael walked back in with his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Here we go.”
He set the backpack on an end table and pulled out the flash drive.
“Follow me,” Gina said, as she took off down the hall. Michael and Bernie followed.
She entered the second door on the left. Michael followed her. Bernie moved at a slower pace, enjoying his wine.
Gina turned after walking into the office. She faced Michael, spread her arms, and turned back and forth. “Bernie converted one of our bedrooms into an office for me. What do you think?”
Michael looked at the file cabinets, the wall mounted flat-screen TV, and the bookcase. “What a great office.” He walked to the bookcase and ran his hand along the edge of a shelf. “Where did you get these? They are beautiful.”
Bernie walked in as Michael was asking. Gina pointed to him. “There’s my carpenter. Bern’s a superb wood worker.”
“I say he’s a craftsman.”
“Yes, he is,” her pride showing, while Bernie took a sip and waved off the compliments.
She thrust both arms to her right. “He made this desk for me, too.”
“I was so caught up with the bookcase, I didn’t look at your desk. It’s magnificent—understated beauty—great work, Bernie.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that cherry?”
“Yes, Gina loves cherry, so that’s what I used. It was fun to make for her.”
As Gina sat behind her desk and worked. Michael looked at Bernie, who was beaming with pride, and asked, “Bernie, how long ago did Gina save you from a lifetime of loneliness?”
Gina looked up, laughing. “Bernie Benedetti, you better get this right.”
Bernie paused, put his wineglass on the corner of a small table, and made a show of using his fingers to count. “Sixty years, next year, but it only feels like a hundred.”
He dodged the pencil flung at him.
“Incredible. That’s a rarity these days.”
Bernie looked at Gina, then back to Michael. He walked to the desk and stood next to her. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “It’s not fashionable to talk this way now days, but there’s no doubt in our minds God has kept us together. And that He’s made us better at being a husband and wife, and parents and grandparents.”
Gina added, “Without a doubt,” as she placed her hand on top of his. “Not without struggles and tough times, but we kept our vows in focus, and God brought us through.”
“You’re right, Bernie. I don’t hear that much… except from my grandmother.”
“Grandmothers are smart. You need to listen to her, Michael.” Gina said with a smile and a finger wag.
“She tells me the same thing, Gina. I love her. She raised me and influenced my life in ways I can never repay.”
“Tell her you love her, Michael. Sit across from her. Look at her straight on and tell her you love her.”
“Thanks, Gina. I will.”
She nodded in approval as she handed him the flash drive. “Here you go.”
“Thank you both for the help you’ve given me tonight. I’ll let you know where it leads me.”
“Please do,” Gina said, “we have your business card. I’ll invite you to our neighborhood get-togethers.”
“You invite me, and I’ll be here.”
While walking back into the living room, Bernie said, “Have a seat, Michael. Finish your wine.”
“I’d love to,” as he held up the glass, then set it on the coffee table, “but I’m driving. Thank you again, you’ve been so helpful. And it feels like we’ve been friends for years.”
Gina said, “You can count us as friends, Michael.”
Bernie handed Michael his backpack. “Thanks again for the wine. And remember, you’re now officially a friend.”
Michael hugged them both, then opened the door. Bernie slapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “See ya, buddy,” he said, while closing the door behind Michael.
In his car and heading home, Michael’s thoughts went first to Bernie and Gina.
What a great couple. I hope to see them again.
Then to Daniel.
Not a good guy… there’s danger there.
Back in his apartment, he removed the notebook computer from his briefcase, pulled the flash drive from his pants pocket, and inserted it into a USB port on the computer. Too excited to even take off his backpack or sit, he clicked on "File Explorer."
Gina did a great job of archiving these photos. 1986, let’s see what’s there.
He clicked the July sub-folder.
I’ll try 07-04-86.
When the photo came up, he zoomed in until he found Daniel.
Yep, that’s the guy.
He dropped his right arm out of the backpack and unzipped the compartment holding the book.
Thirty minutes should do it.
He found page 30 and looked at his computer screen.
Michael was standing in Bernie and Gina’s back yard, 20 feet behind the camera. His backpack hung from his left arm, which struck him as funny.
So excited, I forgot the strap.
He closed the book, put it in the backpack, zipped the pocket closed, and secured the backpack in place.
49
After watching Michael approach his apartment building’s front door, BTH had waited until Michael had entered and the front door closed. He slinked to the door and picked the lock. He moved into a shadow and watched Michael climb to the top of the stairwell.
After Michael walked into his apartment and close the door, BTH ran out the front door and to the side of the apartment building. Before climbing the exterior stairs, he called his boss.
“Yeah?”
“Boss, he’s back in his apartment.”
“No better time than now, BTH.”
“Will do, boss.”
BTH climbed the old wooden exterior stairs, that were probably meant to be used as a fire escape.
At the top of the exterior stairs, he listened as he looked into Michael’s kitchen through the glass in the door.
Man, they didn’t consider guys like me when they decided on what kinda door to install.
BTH looked around. Seeing no one, he picked the lock and pushed on the door. It opened with a groan, causing him to stop. He knew Michael was in there, but neither heard nor saw him. Without letting go of the door, he gave it a quick shove, eliminating the groan.
Before entering the kitchen, he visualized the apartment’s layout. He remembered it from when he was last there. There was the doorway that led from the kitchen to the living room.
If I go straight through the living room to the hallway… two grenades tossed from there will take out the living room and Michael’s office.
At the living room doorway, he stopped, still hearing nothing.
Maybe he’s taking a nap.
There was a canvas bag hanging on the left side of his body. The bag’s strap rode on his right shoulder.
From it, he pulled out an M67 frag grenade.
He placed it in his right hand and removed the pin while holding a firm grip on the lever.
Pulling out a second M67 from the bag, he applied pressure to the lever.
With his right-hand index finger, he removed its pin.
I have less than five seconds to get out of here.
His breathing and his heart rate both raced.
He worried about being able to toss the grenade far enough using his right arm, which was hindered by the cast.
He walked to the hallway that led to Michael’s bedroom.
Straight ahead of him was a bathroom.
To his right, Michael’s office.
BTH visualized his movements, walked a few steps forward, and let loose both grenades.
One toward Michael’s office.
The throw towards his bedroom, because of the cast, dropped more than rolled.
BTH turned and ran like somebody was chasing him.
The first grenade exploded as he exited the kitchen door.
The sound of the explosion, along with the fragments of the grenade destroying the apartment, was deafening.
BTH fell forward and hit the second-floor landing as the second grenade exploded.
He covered his ears and waited a few seconds for the sounds to stop.
With a limp, he climbed the stairs and entered the kitchen. He stopped at the doorway to the living room. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and covered his nose and mouth.
The grenades must have scattered his body everywhere.
He made a quick check of the living room. A golf bag lay on the floor next to Michael’s office door. Golf clubs were bent, and several were missing heads. He checked the bag’s pockets.
Not in there.
He checked the office and found Michael’s briefcase. The explosion caused heavy damage, but it was still closed.
Might be in this.
BTH looked at his watch and realized the cops would be there soon.
I’ll take it with me—open it later.
He ran to Michael’s bedroom and checked it without success. But it brought the painful memory of a baseball bat hitting his right forearm. While walking out of the bedroom, he scowled, scrunched his left hand, and cussed Michael.
Sirens warned him police and fire were getting close.
He made another quick pass through the office and the living room.
The sirens grew closer, causing him to abandon his search.
He hurried through the kitchen and ran down the fire escape.
Someone yelled, “Hey, what are you doing up there?” Without stopping, BTH yelled back, “I was walking by, heard the explosion, and ran up to see if I could help. Nobody home; must have been a gas explosion.” He kept running.
* * *
Michael stood watching the group break from the photo taking session. A man approached him. It was Bernie, much younger, but without doubt, Bernie.
“Hi,” Bernie said, “I don’t think we’ve met, but welcome. Come on in and get something to eat. My name’s Bernie. What’s yours?”
“Michael. Glad to meet you, Bernie. I’m looking at a house in the neighborhood that may become available soon. The voices and laughter drew me in. I couldn’t resist crashing the party to meet potential neighbors.”
“Which house, Michael?”
“They haven’t made a final decision, and don’t want to cause a stir, so they asked that I not tell anyone.”
“That’s okay. Anyway, get something to eat and drink, and meet the folks here.”
“I’ll do that, thanks.”
Michael walked around, talking with neighbors, while keeping Daniel in sight.
He saw a much younger Gina. “Hi, you must be, Gina.”
“Yes, have we met?”
“No, we haven’t.” Michael told her the story he had told Bernie.
“Well, I hope it works out for you. Do you want me to walk with you and make introductions?”
“Sure. Let me grab something to drink first.”
“Go ahead, come find me when you’re ready.”
Michael turned. Daniel was standing right in front of him.
He leaned in till his face was inches from Michael’s. With malice leaching from his entire being, he said, “I know you… don’t I.”
“This is my first time here, so I doubt we’ve met.”
“I don’t forget faces,” Daniel said, glaring at Michael.
“If you figure out where we’ve met, let me know,” Michael said, as he turned and walked away.
Daniel called out, “OMSI, wasn’t it. You’re good at jumping out of the way of VW buses. But don’t give me a next time. I won’t miss again.”
Michael didn’t reply. He scanned the gathering, found Gina, and headed for her.
