by Gerard Denza
THE TIME DECEIVER
An Edward Mendez, P.I. Thriller
BOOK 1
Gerard Denza
The Time Deceiver:
An Edward Mendez, P.I. Thriller
Book I
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2018 Gerard Denza
EBOOK EDITION
All rights reserved.
PRINT ISBN: 978-1-7328653-0-3
No part of this publication may be reproduced stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, without written permission of the copyright owner.
Cover art by Ammonia Book Covers
Web-site at time of going to press:
www.gerarddenza.com
Also available in Print.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
By The Same Author:
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE THE IRISHMAN
CHAPTER TWO PHANTOM MOON
CHAPTER THREE THE SURVIVORS
CHAPTER FOUR OUTCASTS
CHAPTER FIVE THE SEANCE
CHAPTER SIX YOLANDA
CHAPTER SEVEN EVIL MEN
CHAPTER EIGHT A WARNING
CHAPTER NINE MARLENA
CHAPTER TEN THE CONFESSIONAL
CHAPTER ELEVEN VALERIE
CHAPTER TWELVE STRATEGY
CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE TIME DECEIVER
CHAPTER FOURTEEN LOVERS AND ENEMIES
CHAPTER FIFTEEN ARMAGEDDON
EPILOGUE
By The Same Author:
ICARUS: THE COLLECTED PLAYS
RAMSAY
THE TIME DECEIVER
To Cinnamon,
the bravest little cat in the world.
PROLOGUE
...AND WHEN IT WAS MORNING, the east wind brought the locusts...they covered the face of the whole earth so that the land was darkened...
-Exodus 10: 13, 15
PART ONE:
HOWARD'S BAR
CHAPTER ONE
THE IRISHMAN
I WAS SITTING IN MY father’s bar downing my third shot of whiskey. It was one of the few pleasures I had in life. Come to think of it, it was the only pleasure I had in life. I enjoyed staring into the shot glass and trying to make sense of the intoxicating liquor. I would place the shot glass at eye level and swirl the liquid around to form an alcoholic whirlpool. Just one more shot. It was a lie that I told myself often just for the sake of telling a lie. Why should I stop drinking when the liquor was free? Now, why the fuck would I do that?
My name is Howard Winter and has been for all of my life. I am German by birth, but was removed from the Fatherland shortly after I was born and placed in this country. My parents are dead. They were the only friends I ever knew. They told me that I should never trust anyone and that the world was a dangerous place. My mother and father were all too correct. Cynicism, I was also told, was a good mask for fear. I was taught to perfect this art.
Hmm...maybe, I should have called the bar “Howard’s Bar?” A place needs a name to have an existence and be noticed just like a man. For now, I call it “The Bar.” Not too imaginative, huh? My father would have thought of a better name, for sure.
What I tell you now must be told because it has affected you. I use the past tense because the event has already taken place. It has altered the scheme of things that is referred to as human history. We must move on from this event, if one is able to...to what? Survive? Maybe.
Stories have beginnings and endings. What occurs in the middle is the fabric that is woven to give the garment its shape and distinction. This is not a story that a man conjures up from his imagination. It is the relating of an historical event that has been hidden. It is an event that marked the end of humanity and then the beginning of something evil. I will do my best to tell it.
It took place in New York City. It began with a man, an Irishman. He was a young man whom I came to love and betray. Betray? How in God’s name could I do otherwise?
It was past midnight. It was the middle of September and still warm. It was raining. I had locked the front and the back doors. The windows had been shut with only one window remaining opened in the men’s toilet. I sat on the edge of the bowl and laughed. I stopped my laughing when I heard a knock on the door. Now, who could that be at this late hour? He was mad, whoever it was. No matter, I had to answer the door for it was not in my nature to leave things unattended.
I pulled up my pants and took a look in the mirror. The sight was not displeasing: blonde hair, blue-eyed, and hard looking. I combed my hair back. Good. I turned away from the mirror and realized that I had left the bathroom door open. I could have been seen from a number of vantage points. What of it? Perhaps, a passerby had seen me relieving myself?
I walked over to the door and flicked open the outside light. My late night visitor was drenched from the rain. It was Sean. I recognized him at once as the tall and strapping, young Irishman. I liked his look: tall, red-haired and lean. I decided to take a chance and let him in.
-Yes? And, what may I do for you at this hour? We are closed for the night. Can’t you see that?
Sean smiled, but it was not a nice smile. No. He didn’t like my question or tone of voice.
-Your bar was closed, but the bathroom light caught my eye. I saw you taking a leak in the john over there. You oughta’ keep the shades down, man.
-Are you a peeping-Tom? You saw me with my pants down? You make me laugh. Now, I think you should leave.
-I’m not even in, man. Let me in for a few minutes, then you can toss me out into the pouring rain.
-Why should I, Irishman?
-You letting me in or what, pal? I’m thirsty. I need a drink to warm me up. I’ll even pay for it.
Perhaps, I should have never opened the door that night to let him in. One must make his choices and not look back to brood. What good does it do?
-Come in and sit down. I’ll offer you a drink. I like drinking alone, and I confess that I have already had a few. Straight whiskey?
-Thanks. Make it your best.
Sean walked over to one of the tables and sat down. I ducked behind the bar and took out the bottle of whiskey that I had been indulging in. I held it up for Sean.
-You see, Sean, I have been indulging.
-How do you know my name?
Sean was bending over and taking off his wet shoes and socks.
-Making yourself comfortable? Not too comfortable, I hope. You won’t be staying long.
-No. Not too comfortable, man, so get off my back. How do you know my name?
-I have seen you in here a few times. I ask questions. I like to know who comes in. You don’t come in often. Why not?
I brought the bottle over to the table along with two shot glasses. I handed Sean his glass and poured the whiskey to the brim.
-Good man. And, I don’t like crowds.
Sean downed his whiskey in one gulp.
-I will introduce myself. My name is Howard-
-Good. I don’t give a damn what your last name is. I’m starting a job tomorrow, Howard, and I need a few drinks to get me through this miserable night. You dig?
-Of course. But, shouldn’t you be home resting and preparing for your first day of work? Surely, there are things to be done?
-There are things to be done, but they’re being done for me.
-I don’t understand you. What is being done for you and by whom?
-None of your damned business. My fault for bringing it up.
I noticed that Sea
n had a leather briefcase placed between his legs: an executive’s briefcase.
-So, you despair about your new job, eh? Is it the lack of freedom that distresses you or, perhaps, it is something else that you don’t want to tell me? You can tell me anything.
I poured myself some more whiskey.
-You’re cool, Howard. I don’t want this job because I don’t like mixing with people. I hate people and it’s kind of a real effort for me to get along with them. So, I don’t even try.
-Will you begin this job with other people? Yes?
-Yes.
-That is good. You will not be alone in your agony.
-In my kind of agony, I’m always alone, man.
The rain came down in torrents outside. I heard thunder. But, it wasn’t thunder that I could hear: it was something else...a low vibration which from that night on never quite left my ears.
-Irishman, show me what is in that leather briefcase. Are you taking it to work with you tomorrow? But, that cannot be for it is obviously stuffed with papers and clearly it is the briefcase of an executive.
I leaned forward and placed my drink to my lips. The liquor smelled good.
-It is not yours. You stole it. Now, tell me why.
-Fuck you. You make an awful lot of assumptions, pal Give me another drink. I’ve still got this chill in me.
-The briefcase, if you please. And, then, you get another drink.
Sean picked up the leather briefcase and flung it on to the table.
-Here. Look at it. Piss in it. I’m thirsty. Start pouring.
-Take off your wet shirt and help yourself.
Sean helped himself to another drink, but he kept his eye on me. I opened the briefcase and reached inside for the contents. It was an old-fashioned type of briefcase with a flip-over latch that could be adjusted to the thickness of its contents. Contained within this case were manilla folders which I took out and placed on to the table in a neat pile.
-Read ‘em, Howard.
-These are files on the people whom you will be working with?
-You’re sharp, man. Can’t put one over on you.
-Sean, tell me why you go to so much trouble to find out about strangers? And, how did you get a hold of it?
-A friend of mine stole it for me: a chick named Melody.
-You mean that you know someone who is already working within the company? How convenient for you to have a friend who will steal documents. These will be missed.
-Yep. But, I don’t think Melody is too worried about that because that chick can take care of herself.
-Your girlfriend, no doubt.
-No. And, too bad, I’d like to have her.
-So, she went into an office and helped herself to some documents?
-Something like that. Ah! To what end? Isn’t that the next question...Howard?
-But, that is so obvious: to acquaint yourself with some of the intimate details of your co-workers’ lives and to have this advantage over them.
-Good! You’re not stupid.
-Tell me about Melody. Perhaps, she is the girl for my affections.
-Maybe. Just maybe, she is.
-I tell you what, Sean, tomorrow, which is actually today, I will go with you to your job and meet Melody.
-Open the damn folders and read...Howard. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? They’re no ordinary folders.
-Look at the time, Irishman. It is already three o’clock. How is it possible that time has slipped by us so quickly? I find that strange.
-Hmm. That is strange...and it’s still raining.
-It’s as if we have slept for a while and had forgotten that we had slept.
-Oh, man!
-What is it?
-Skip it. You wouldn’t get the joke.
-Ah, secrets. Very well, I have my own. What time must you be at work?
-About eight-thirty.
-That doesn’t leave much time for sleep. But, I can see that you have no intention of sleeping. You must go home to at least shower, Irishman.
-Yeah, I gotta’. Don’t want to stink up the place.
Sean got up and downed the last shot of whiskey. He shoved his wet socks into the back pocket of his pants and slipped on his damp shoes.
-Howard, keep the folders and the case. If you’re smart, you’ll read ‘em and toss ‘em. Gotta’ go.
-Tell me where your place of employment is.
-Address is in the briefcase, man. And, if you’re not there when I arrive, I’m not waiting for you.
-Fair enough. And, now, you had better go home, Irishman.
I closed the door and stood there for a moment to watch Sean walk down the street: a fine figure of a man. The rain outside was now a light drizzle.
I went back to the bar and opened the first of the ten manilla folders and glanced at a few of the names and addresses inside. I drank my whiskey and threw the files into the trash.
CHAPTER TWO
PHANTOM MOON
I LOCKED THE DOOR, gave it a tug, and went on my way. I didn’t look back. Never look back. Bad habit. Can’t relive a past moment...or can you?
The morning air was chilly but bracing. There was no sun and no rays of light to be seen in the sky. I felt beads of sweat on my brow despite the chill. It was a good thing that I had remembered to bring a handkerchief with me. I reached into my jacket pocket to get it. Why was I sweating? What the hell was I nervous about? Was it nerves or fear?
It was then that I saw Sean who was waving to me from across the empty street. I dabbed at my forehead with the handkerchief and was about to shove it back into my pocket when I noticed tiny spots of blood on it. The morning was turning into a damned nightmare.
-Hey, Howard? Come on, man. I’ve got no time to waste. Let’s move!
-Is there blood on my forehead?
-How did you manage that? Did you wear a crown of thorns or something? Is that handkerchief you’re using clean?
-I would not carry a filthy handkerchief on me.
-That’s cool, so wipe the blood off your face, man, and let’s hurry. I don’t want to be late. Well...not too late.
-Lead the way, please. I don’t know this area of town so well.
-It’s just up the block.
Sean and I walked in silence down lower Broadway until we came to John St. It was here that we made a right hand turn down the narrow street. It didn't take us long to reach the office building where Sean would be working. It was a skyscraper that had been built back in the 1920’s. How many people had worked there? How many of them were now dead?
-We part company here, pal. Seems like kind of a waste of a trip for you...Howard.
-You are wrong, Sean. I now know why I had to come.
Again, I took out my handkerchief and dabbed at my forehead. Why would the bleeding not stop?
-Okay, quit with the suspense and tell me why you had to come.
-I came here to wait for you and to meet a few of your co-workers. I feel that something significant is going to happen today. No. I lie. What is going to happen is dreadful.
-Are you psychic or something...Howard? You don’t look it.
-No. Why do you ask?
-No reason. I’m going. Take good care of yourself. Your forehead is still bleeding, man; but I don’t see any cut marks. Maybe you’re just one of those lucky people who ooze stigmata. Huh?
-We will see each other tonight at my bar. We will celebrate your first day of work. Okay?
-See ya’ later, man. Try putting a bandage on your forehead. Don’t want people mistaking you for you-know-who.
I leaned against the brick wall and closed my eyes. I touched my chest just to see if I had remembered to put on my father’s silver crucifix that he’d given me for my birthday such a long time ago. The chain was not around my neck. I tried to think of where I had left it. In my back pocket, I felt the crucifix caressing my hard butt. My hand reached for it, but as I was about to take it out, two people approached me. I let the crucifix dangle in my right hand
. I wanted these two people to see it and to know that I believed in Him. I placed my hand to my forehead. The bleeding had stopped.
I opened my eyes and what I saw before me was a mother and daughter. It was inconceivable that it should be otherwise. The younger woman had blonde hair and eyes that were perpetually “startled.” The older woman was dark haired and the other side of middle-age.
I smiled at them in greeting. The younger of the two women spoke to me.
-I beg your pardon, is this-
-Yes. I can tell you that it is your place of business. You should go up immediately if you do not want to be late on your first day of work.
-But, how did you know what I was going to ask you? Who are you? Will you be starting work today with my sister? Oh, what a lovely coincidence! Rose, dear, you’re already made a new friend.
-You assume far too much.
The older woman spoke to me.
-Get a load of him! Well, if you two don’t mind, I think I’ll be on my way upstairs. So long, sister dear. You coming up, mister?
-No. I do not work here, but my friend, Sean, and his girlfriend, Melody, do.
-Rose MacDonald’s the name. And, this here is my kid sister, Irene.
-Howard Winter. I feel as though I know the two of you ladies already. I want you both to come by my bar tonight for a party of sorts. Tell me that you will come.
The younger sister, Irene, clasped her hands in delight.
-Oh, I adore parties! Of course we’ll come. Just tell us when to be there and where to go.
-After sunset, Irene. When else would I have a party?
-After sunset, Mister?
Rose looked astonished at what I had just said. She looked up at the sky. Yes. The older and comical sister was perceptive and picked up on what I was hinting at. A sunset was truly a joke for there as yet had been no sunrise. Irene looked up at the sky, as well. She was startled by the utter blackness.
-Rose and I will be there, Howard. I can’t quite take my eyes off the sky. I can’t see any stars.
Rose tried to laugh.
-I can top that. There’s no damned sun in the sky. Howard? Irene? I’m goin’ in. At least inside, I can pretend there’s a sun shining and that it’s daybreak. It looks like it’s still midnight. Shit!