Gripping Denise’s hand, Becca stood firm and held the mafia leader’s malevolent gaze as the man was escorted to the waiting squad car. His financials had been more than enough to convince a sympathetic judge Lawrence had long connections with to issue an arrest warrant. There’d been sufficient probably cause to bring him in under various state laws, not least of which was “laundering a monetary instrument.”
Of course, Becca needed to worry. Because the man’s high-profile Portland attorney was probably already on a plane. And another lawyer in an expensive suit stood right beside the police as Mario was taken into custody, haranguing them the entire time. If the charges didn’t stick, she could be in real trouble. But it was a risk she’d have to take.
Behind Mario were all of his employees. A separate van had been called in just to facilitate the mass arrest. And every available Bend police officer as well as plenty of Sheriff’s deputies and others were on-site, with all of the top brass beaming and proudly parroting talking points about law and order for every camera they could in front of. Dozens of police cruisers added a macabre tint to the night as their red-and-blue flashing lights blanketed the street.
Taking it all in, Becca wanted to feel relief. Even happiness. She’d played a pivotal role in orchestrating the night’s grand drama. And she genuinely thought that the outcome from it all would be a better, safer community for them all. Nonetheless, all she could experience as she watched as an extreme form of fatigue. She was bone-tired. Deep down in the core of her being, the only thing she wished for was an end to it all. She wanted to get in bed and slip into a coma for as long as she possibly could. Let her daughter take care of her, for once.
“So much pain,” Becca muttered.
“What?” Denise asked, turning to look at her mother, her brow furrowing.
“So much needless pain. Why?” Becca asked.
“I don’t know, mom. I doubt any of us will ever know,” Denise said.
“Well, I better get inside,” Becca said, suddenly. She took her sweaty palm out away from her daughter’s grip and turned to re-enter her pastry bar.
“Want me to go with?” Denise asked.
“I’d prefer you didn’t. This is something that’s probably better with fewer people,” Becca said. And, with that, she returned inside. Where it was quieter, less chaotic.
Seeing Saffron huddled next to her sobbing son, Becca felt her heart melt. She knew the boy needed help. And it seemed like he’d get it. But it still seemed so tragic. In her mind, Mario fit the bill of what a true monster should resemble. The man was the perfect portrait of a murderer. Ben, on the other hand, was a pathetic lump of flesh who’d been just as much victim as victimizer for most of his life. Becca couldn’t quite blame the boy for wanting to help his mom out of an abusive relationship. Even if he’d gone about it the completely wrong way.
“How are you guys?” Becca asked.
“Oh, we’re holding up. Thanks for checking on us,” Saffron said.
“No problem. It’s bedlam out there, anyway,” Becca said.
“I bet. Crazy. They’re really arresting the entire staff?” Saffron asked. “What are they going to do with that place now? I mean, won’t that hurt your business?” she asked.
Becca paused. Slowly, she nodded. “Yeah, it might hurt my business for a bit. I’m sure we got some extra traffic from them. People stopping by after lunch for coffee or whatever. Plus, it just brought more people downtown. But, I mean, I’m willing to absorb some losses if it means that creep is off the street. He’s a really bad man,” she said.
“You know, speaking of all that, I hope my dispensary isn’t hurt by all this. I mean, my son being involved,” Saffron said.
“Well, what can you do? I’m sure if you ever needed to, you could get a license somewhere else. Eugene, Portland,” Becca said.
“But this is my home. And, ugh. Portland?” Saffron said the word with utter disgust. “Have you been there? The Rose Garden is nice and all. But it’s just trashy. All the people and traffic? And if the people here are sometimes rude, what do you think they’d do to me there? Someone would hold me down and cut my dreads off. And the police would just watch and laugh. Because the mobs run things there. And they’re not even organized like THE mob,” she said.
Becca shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. I’m too tired to argue, honestly. I really feel for you. And I tried my best to keep my promises to you. But, I mean, I don’t really see the county or city messing with you too hard on that. It’s your son, not you. Does that make sense?” she asked.
“It does,” Saffron said. “Doesn’t make me any less worried. But, yes, it does make sense,” she said.
“Hey, guys. Afraid we’re going to have wrap this one up. I did the best I could to keep the media off the boy’s case,” Lawrence said. “We’ll make sure to get him a nice, quiet cell in protective custody. That way no one will bother him or anything. I doubt he’ll make bail, so he’ll be in there a while. But I work there pretty much every day. And you can visit, make phone calls, all that. So, let’s go ahead and head on in, bud,” he said.
“I don’t want to,” Ben said. “I’m scared.”
“That’s okay. I think everyone is probably scared. Jail isn’t supposed to fun, bud. But, you know, this is where you start that healing process we talked about. You know? We’re going to get you hooked up with someone from mental health. They’ll do an evaluation, all that,” Lawrence said. He shot Becca a glance. “I tell you, Ben, you’re pretty smart. So, I’ll level with you. You’re getting a really sweet deal. Because I don’t think I’ve EVER personally put my neck on the line for ANYONE. And, considering the severity of your case, it’s even more impressive. What I’m saying is, Ben, if you do your part, you should be able to avoid some serious prison time. Because I’ve gone out of my way to say that you’ve been cooperative and remorseful and just want some help. I didn’t even bother to mention what I know about your dad, okay?” he said.
“But why?” Ben asked.
“Well, honestly, it’s been such a long time and it’d be so expensive and hard to prove. So, that’s a big part of it. But I also trust Becca and your mother when they say they genuinely think you had good motives for doing it. You’re the one who has to live with that one. I’d just caution you to be careful about what you say, even in therapy, because if you confess to an additional murder to a psychiatrist, they’ll probably refer it back to us. You know? But maybe that’s what helps you really get a break-through or whatever it is they call it. I don’t know. I just need you to come with me, Ben. Okay?” Lawrence said.
“Can I say goodbye to my mom first?” Ben asked.
“Of course, bud. Take your time,” he said.
Sobbing, the young man clung to his mother. They shared an emotional embrace as they each faced the very possibility that it might be the last time they ever saw each other in the free world.
After it’d finally stretched out for several minutes, Lawrence cleared his throat and slowly approached Ben. “I’m going to read you your rights now, bud. Okay?” he said.
Becca, not wanting to witness any more tragedy, decided that the moment was her cue to depart. Sliding back outside, she got her daughter’s attention and headed home. However, as she was driving, a thought struck her.
“I forgot to call Delilah. Oh, I bet she’ll be all over this,” Becca said.
The End
Author’s Note
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this work. If you did, here’s a link to the next book in the series. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07XP9JSCN
Please consider leaving an honest review if you liked the story.
If you continue on to the next page, there are a few discussion questions for book clubs and other groups. I’ve also included a recipe for Sugar Pie, something Becca would be fond of making, given her French-Canadian roots.
Switching gears, I’d like to mention that Oregon Revised Statute 146.065 (4) does allow for district attorney
s to act as district medical examiners in rare circumstances. As noted earlier, this is a work of fiction and nothing in it is intended to be construed as legal advice. Nonetheless, for those that might be curious, the relevant scenario presented in this story is plausible.
Moving on, in my own lengthy experiences in Oregon, I’ve encountered a plethora of bus stops in seemingly random, remote locations. While this is a fiction work, the relevant portion of the story is plausible. As is the fact that human beings are diverse and act in a wide variety of ways. Ways that don’t always necessarily make sense.
Additionally, I’ve tried to follow fairly well-established customs in creative writing by introducing some elements of characterization through dialogue. Whether or not I did that well will ultimately be the result of lots of individual opinions. Nonetheless, if there seem to be misspellings or grammatical errors, please pause to consider whether or not they are from dialogue before rushing to judgement.
Further, the conflict between prescriptive versus descriptive is an ever-present problem. Language evolves. Part of the process for that evolution involves literary expression. Many authors intentionally develop sentences or diction in ways that challenge the status quo. Sometimes I do this, too. It’s a stylistic choice. And individual author styles are a major part of what drives both creative writing and the publishing business. Fiction exists on a dynamic spectrum. While reading Strunk and White is useful, adhering to every one of their rules is both functionally impossible and limits the potential of writers to deliver engaging content. I grew up reading authors such as Lawrence Sanders. Thus, I’m less on the Hemmingway end of that spectrum.
Please try to respect the longstanding traditions of creative writing and storytelling as well as the individual differences of the very human authors who strive to entertain you.
Finally, the story itself consists of approximately 66,188 words. The three sections that follow are comprised of approximately 1,294 words. Add in another approximately 450 words for the title, copyright, and related titles pages, and that total reaches about 1,750 words. For those that are actively monitoring such data points, that’s far below ten percent of the total.
Discussion Questions
What do you think of Becca’s response to the death? Could she have handled it differently? Should she have gone directly to the local police?
What are your thoughts about Ben? Was he justified in his actions? Why or why not? Should authorities intervened earlier to stop Ben? If so, what authorities? And how might they have identified him as a potential threat? What does it say about the state mental health treatment in these United States that Ben’s case could seem plausible?
Trying to disregard Ben’s past and obvious mental health concerns, should he- or anyone- be allowed to purchase or cultivate plants such as monkshood (aconitum)? There are reportedly plausible health and other benefits associated with these plants. Does that change your calculus? What about regulations? In this story, Ben is growing a poisonous plant in his front yard. Becca expresses some concern that this could pose a dire threat to children and domestic animals. Should authorities restrict where such plants can be grown? If so, what authorities should have that power? Why?
What would you do if you discovered that a restaurant you enjoyed were a front for an organized crime syndicate? Would that change your perception of the owners or the food?
What are your thoughts on David? What can we infer about the current deficits in U.S. mental health treatment from his circumstances, if anything? If you knew what crimes he’d been convicted of, would that alter your perception of him? Should veterans be given priority when it comes to things like mental health treatment? If so, what problems might that cause? What problems might it solve? If given the choice between prioritizing David or Ben, in terms of offering mental health care, which one would you choose? Why?
What do you think of Saffron? Is her stance on cannabis reasonable? Why or why not? Do you think her involvement in the cannabis industry had any bearing on Ben’s development (or lack thereof)?
Denise and David live at home, without contributing much to their living situation. What does that say about them, if anything? Could it be a generational thing? Is this a function of David’s illness and experiences? Justify your answers.
In the beginning of the story, Becca discovers that Mario has the local District Attorney on his payroll. She also finds out about how varying standards on the cause, manner, and mechanism of death can impact death investigations. Coroners are elected officials and often don’t need to be doctors at all. Medical Examiners are appointed and usually have to at least be licensed physicians, if not pathologists. Is it disturbing that states and various localities have differing standards when it comes to how decedents (dead bodies) are handled? How might a competent M.E. have handled this case differently?
In some states, private investigators might not require significant amounts of training or any sort of major certification. On a related note, Becca successfully solved this case, despite not having any formal training or any sort of occupational license. Do you think she should have been allowed to conduct this investigation? Do you think she should have been required to obtain some baseline level of certification? If so, from whom? Could that certification have been performed by private entities?
Examining Jeff’s character, what can you infer about differences between rural and urban populations from him? Are there any? If so, what are they? How are they manifested? On a related note, Mario reveals the regional differences in Italian life and culture. Are there any parallels between what Mario expressed and what we see in Jeff’s behavior?
What did you think of Mario’s reaction to his son’s sexuality? Was that a function of his old-fashioned attitude, Italian cultural heritage, criminal lifestyle, or other factors? Justify your answer.
Sugar Pie Recipe
Ingredients
½ cup all-purpose flour
2 cups brown sugar
2 eggs
1 ½ cups milk
¼ cup butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon salt
Directions
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Take a 9-inch pie dish and grease it.
Using an electric mixer to combine the brown sugar and butter in a bowl, ensure that they are beaten until a creamy texture without lumps is achieved. Add eggs to this mix gradually, one at a time, continuing to beat them into the mix. Next, contribute the salt and vanilla. Then slowly introduce the flour, beating it into the mixture while ensuring the desired consistency is maintained. Finally, use the milk to finish off the prep work. The resultant batter should be creamy. Pour it into the ready pie container.
Cook in a preheated oven for thirty-five minutes. Once that is done, take the pie out of the oven and cover the rim with aluminum foil. That’s to keep it from burning. Re-insert the pie into the oven, baking for approximately fifteen additional minutes, or until the middle sets and the top displays a crusty layer. Allow the pie to cool to ambient temperature, then refrigerate for a minimum of sixty minutes before serving.
*Note: This recipe is adapted from one found on a website.
Slice of the Pie Page 21