The Falau Files Box Set 1

by Mike Gomes

  “No. I am the fixer. I fix problems and I can’t take forever to get back to them.” Explained Tyler with a slight laugh. “Take care.”

  Tyler patted Falau’s shoulder one last time and walked towards the door. Falau looked at the card in his hand and spun it between his fingers. Even with all the risk and Carla’s death, Falau was feeling better now than he had in years. The flashbacks had been gone for almost a week and his drinking had slowed. He felt like he had something to live for, and that was a feeling that had left him a long time ago.

  "Where did your buddy go?" Ruth said, placing the coffee in front of Falau with a small splash. "Hun. He didn't even leave you with a few bucks to cover the cost of his coffee. Some friend he is."

  Ruth rumbled away, her words echoing in Falau's ears. "Some friend he is." And she was right. He is some friend. The kind of friend that looks after you when you're at the worst point in your life. One who comes in and bales your ass out when you’re getting ready to end it all.

  That kind of friend is a best friend.

  Pulling the cell phone from his pocket the big man quickly dialed the number on the card, stopping Tyler right outside the coffee shop.

  "Ya... Tyler."

  "Falau. Stay there."

  Falau shoved some money on the table and jumped up, moving to the door as fast as he could. Pushing the door open, he tried not to run to Tyler and cause too many eyes to look at his old friend. Falau detected at least two cars in the area he was sure Tyler would soon be followed by. Quickening his pace, he reached Tyler and caught his breath.

  "One more assignment, just to see how things go."

  Extending his arm, Tyler smiled as Falau shook hands with him. “Falau, I feel really good about this."

  Suddenly they heard screaming from inside the coffee shop. Falau and Tyler turned to look, and saw Ruth crying and holding the hundred dollar bill Falau had left for her.

  Falau shrugged his shoulders. "She earned it with her sunny disposition."

  9 MM

  BOOK 2

  Chapter 1

  PULLING THE DOOR OPEN he reached up with his free hand and fixed his wind-tousled hair. The sound of raucous chatter and glasses clinking together filled the air. Surveying the bar, he shook off the cold and looked for a booth to sit at.

  The bar was alive with action despite the early hour of 4:00pm, but just like so many college towns, Thursday night is a going out night, and the students of Tridon college were of a like mind.

  The handsome young man had the look of any boy-next-door; short cropped hair he would let get a little longer on top, and a smooth and clear complexion that sat well with his strong yet modestly developed body.

  In his hand he held a single yellow rose and he placed it on the edge of the first table he found open. Pulling out his phone he opened the applications and found ‘Hooked’, an app that promoted itself as a dating aid, but was more widely known for its use in finding one-night-stands for college kids and those in their 20’s.

  Scrolling through the endless list of women on the prowl he filtered his search down to his local area and pulled up the in-app locator showing how many women were within one mile of his present location. The stats bar zipped across the top of his phone as the page loaded and revealed eight women who were ready to mingle. Two had added pictures to their profile.

  Brave, or stupid? he thought, looking over the two women and deciding to send an instant message to the one on the right, a cute girl with straight black hair and a slightly wild look in her eye.

  Within moments of hitting ‘Send’ a message came back. “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “No. Just saw your picture and wondered if you would like to meet for a drink.”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  The young man smiled to himself and thought, why do women need to play this game of cat and mouse. She knows why she’s on the app and I know why she’s on the app. No need to pretend we aren’t on the same page.

  But he continued to play the game and build a virtual relationship with the girl, like he had done so many times before, until finally the young man was ready to make his move.

  “Well, if you’re uncomfortable meeting someone new I can understand that. Take care.” He hit send and waited, without taking his eyes from his phone. He smiled, waiting for what he knew was soon going to come.

  BING!

  Incoming message. “What bar are you at? How will I know who you are?”

  Fifteen minutes later the door opened again, and the young woman from the photo entered looking for the man with the yellow rose. Walking over to the table she picked up the rose and smelled it.

  “Is this for me?”

  “It always has been,” replied the charming young man, smiling. “Please, have a seat so we can talk.”

  The woman slid into the seat across from him and pulled off her coat. “I don’t usually meet guys on Hooked. It was my first time.”

  “I’m kind of a rookie myself. What’s your name?”

  “Cassandra.”

  “Beautiful name to go with a beautiful girl.”

  “Ha. Does that line ever work for you?” she jabbed.

  He smiled again. “I hope it works now. Besides... it’s true.”

  The couple talked for another hour while consuming several drinks during the conversation. Again and again he ordered tequila shooters, a favorite among the local college kids. As her body started to sway to the beat of the tequila, her inhabitations swayed too and she slid across onto the same side of the booth.

  “You’re real cute,” she slurred, running her hand clumsily through his hair.

  “So are you,” he replied, leaning in to give her a soft kiss that she greeted with more intensity than he expected.

  “Let’s go back to your place and you can show me around,” she suggested.

  “I live kind of far away but there is a hotel right around the corner. Maybe I can show you around there instead.”

  “I don’t care if it’s the back of your car at this point,” she said, taking him by the hand and moving for the door.

  Spilling out onto the street the two young lovers embraced for another kiss and started to hustle their way up the street aiming directly for the door of Hotel Dowdy.

  Stopping in her tracks Cassandra attempted to compose herself. “Do you have a condom? I don’t need to get pregnant my first year in college.”

  “Yes, I have a condom. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Entering the reception, the man checked in at the front desk as Cassandra slumped down on the couch.

  “Is the young lady okay?” questioned the bellhop.

  “Ya. She just had a little too much to drink tonight. No bags, but thanks,” replied the man, placing a $50 bill into the hand of the bellhop.

  “Thank you, Sir,”

  Corralling her into the elevator and then out again on the fifth floor, he slipped the pass card through the strip on the door of room 504, opening it into a generic hotel room with a queen size bed.

  Cassandra staggered in and flipped on the light.

  “Wooooo” she called out, sitting on the edge of the bed then bouncing up and down. “This is what we’re here for. Time to party.’

  “Oh, it’s going to be a party. Wait ‘till you see what I can do.”

  Cassandra smiled and started pulling her arms from her shirt, revealing her bra for her new partner to see. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared up at him as he took a step closer. Her index finger went to the corner of her mouth in an attempt to be sexy, but it simply showed how intoxicated she was.

  “Do you like what you see?” she asked. “Do you want what you see?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say please. Ask me nicely and I’ll let you have some.”

  “I don’t beg,” he replied firmly, the expression on his face hardening. “I take what I want.”

  Reaching down he placed his hands under her arms and pulled her up close to him. She let out a gasp of exc
itement at him taking charge of the situation. Leaning in he kissed her hard, ripping the bra from her body and scratching down her back.

  “Oooowwwww!” she yelled as his nails dug into her back. “Not so rough.”

  “Shut the fuck up! You belong to me!” he barked, striking her in the face with a closed fist that knocked her back onto the bed.

  Sobbing, Cassandra yelled out in pain and fear as blood started running from the corner of her eye and nose.

  “I told you to shut up!” demanded the man, jumping onto the bed and punching her in the face again. As she groaned in pain he grabbed the sheet and stuffed the corner of it into her mouth to gag her. Grabbing her face between his thumb and index finger he pulled her face to within inches of his. “I told you that you belong to me. You are my property. Now time to shut up!”

  Cassandra’s eyes widened and she fell silent, fearing the young man with the cold blue eyes.

  “That’s better,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to rape you. I’m not a rapist. I have better plans for us. Don’t fight me, or things could get very, very bad for you. Do you understand?”

  Cassandra nodded, keeping her focus on the madman despite her swelling black eye.

  His hands worked quickly, removing all the clothing from the woman’s body and leaving her nude and crying on the bed with the sheet still stuffed in her mouth. He stood at the edge of the bed to examine his handy work, his breaths now coming quicker.

  “Now is the time. Yes, now,” he said under his breath while feeling himself through his pants.

  Climbing back onto the bed he knelt beside the woman and looked down into her tear-filled eyes.

  “I think if you just let go you will enjoy this as much as I will. It’s an amazing experience.”

  The woman looked up in horror as the young man climbed on top of her, fully clothed, and started to rub against her. Grinding his body hard against hers he started to groan and his fingers dug hard into her arms, causing her to squeal in pain.

  Pushing himself up onto his hands he looked down into her terrified eyes.

  “You’re not happy?” he questioned with frustration. “You’re so ungrateful.”

  Ramming his head down hard he cracked her nose in three places and broke her cheekbone, causing the sheet to flail from her mouth. A loud moan emanated from deep within her battered body.

  “Oh ya, that’s what I like,” he muttered as his hands found their way up to her neck. Applying only slight pressure he could feel he was just lightly cutting off her air. He slid his face close to hers.

  “This is the best part. Better than any orgasm you could ever have. Just enjoy it.”

  Cassandra’s hands flailed, trying to strike at the man and wrench his hands away from her neck. The more she struggled the more he moaned in excitement.

  Grinding his hips harder into her he tightened his grip and felt her gasping. Her arms were losing strength and her blows had no effect at all.

  “That’s a good girl,” he whispered. “Give it to me. Give me your death. Right into my hands. Give it to me.”

  Squeezing just a little harder he eliminated all hope for any air reaching her lungs or blood getting to her brain. Cassandra’s body started to quiver, then lash out on nothing more than reflex.

  “You’re dying,” slipped from his mouth as her heart finally stopped beating. Still laying on top of her and covered in sweat, the young man attempted to catch his breath.

  Leaning over to the woman he had just killed he kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Rolling to the side of the bed he pulled himself into the chair next to the window so he could look back over at the body. A smile crossed his face.

  Boom!

  The door of the room crashed open to reveal three police officers rushing in with their weapons drawn.

  “Don’t move or I will shoot!” yelled one of the officers, his eyes darting between the man and the body on the bed.

  Just outside the door a woman in a bathrobe was pointing to the door while speaking with two other officers, telling them where the screaming was coming from.

  Without hesitation, the police threw the man to the floor, then handcuffed him.

  “You’re going to jail you sick bastard.”

  “You must not know my dad,” replied the young man, his face pressed firmly against the floor. He was smiling.

  Chapter 2

  Stubbing out the cigarette into an ashtray Falau let out a sigh.

  “I am sorry, Sir, but we have a strict policy of no smoking in the diner,” said the young manager with pimples on his face.

  “Ya, ya. Sorry. I forgot.”

  “I hope this will not cause you to look for another place for your meal.”

  “No. Don’t worry about it,” said the big man with a dismissive flip of his hand to the younger guy, who was no more than eight years his junior though it felt there was a lifetime between them.

  Falau was dressed in a flannel shirt and a beat-up pair of jeans. His old tennis shoes needed to be replaced and the jacket he wore could certainly be outclassed in a second-hand thrift store.

  Running his fingers through his hair he let his eyes scan the dinner. There were several booths that backed up to the one he was sitting on and they were mostly full. On the other side of the aisle sat a long counter with twelve seats. Several old men sat at the counter discussing the politics of the day and spouting off their own views of the world.

  “Billy, turn up the TV. They’re talking about the kid from Newton,” chirped one of the old men who had not bothered to take off his coat.

  The TV flashed a banner headline across the bottom of the screen that said BREAKING NEWS in bold red letters. A shaking camera tried to focus on the steps of the Court House where a podium had been set up. From the TV came the familiar voice of the local news anchor.

  “Good Morning. We’re interrupting your regularly scheduled program to provide you with an update on the trial of Calvin Wise. The jury has come back with a verdict of not guilty. Needless to say, this will come as a shock to all who have been following this case.”

  The screen flashed to an image of several suited men walking out of the Court House and approaching the podium.

  “Now to get comment from our expert legal analyst, Dreck Slader.”

  “Thanks, John. I must say that I’m amazed at the verdict for this case. The legal team assembled by Wise’s father listed like a who’s who of trial law in Boston, but most people felt they would be lucky to get manslaughter in a plea deal. Now they’ve taken the case to trial and won. Just amazing.”

  “Approaching the podium is the district attorney. Let’s listen in.”

  Stepping to the front of the podium was a stern and hard looking woman who appeared to be in her fifties. Falau shifted in his seat and leaned closer to hear the comments coming from the TV, while the old men gave their opinions on how such a travesty of justice could take place.

  “Good afternoon. As representatives of the state of Massachusetts and the district attorney’s office, I cannot stress how disappointed myself and my staff is at the outcome of this trial. As has been well documented in the papers, several times we have requested that the sitting judge re-examine his rulings during the case, but were met with answers of no. The district attorney’s office will re-examine the case and see if there is any way in which we can reopen this case or find the defendant connected with any of the other murders that were linked to the application he used. We will not sleep until the people of the commonwealth see justice done.”

  The woman stepped away from the microphone, ready to walk away without taking any questions. But bursting past her before she could get her bearings was Calvin Wise and his team of attorneys.

  “I told you all it wasn’t me! I am innocent! I didn’t do a thing. You will all be lucky if I don’t sue you for slander. I told you! I told you!” barked the brash young man while wagging his finger at the camera.

  The camera cut abruptl
y away from the scene at the Court House and focused back on the anchorman sitting at his desk.

  “Well there were some strong words from Calvin Wise after being found not guilty. It is also clear that the district attorney is visibly upset with the outcome of this case,” said the anchorman. “We heard her mention the numerous times the judge made rulings during the case to keep various pieces of information inadmissible. Some have even questioned if there could be action taken with the state bar for some of the dubious conduct of Judge Steinburg during this trial. But for now, Calvin Wise is walking free from the Boston District Court House. Please check back with us at 12, 6 and 11 for the most up-to-date information on this case and all the other news, weather and sports. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.”

  The TV flashed back to a game show with a young man dressed like a chicken jumping up and down for what seemed like far too low a sum of money by Falau’s standards.

  “What an asshole,” mumbled Falau under his breath, turning back to his cup of coffee.

  “You’re right, he is an asshole. I would have held out for $300 to get in the chicken suit,” said the familiar voice of an old friend.

  Jumping to his feet Falau stood face to face with his old friend Tyler and hugged him tightly. Tyler was quick to return the hug and patted Falau hard on the back.

  The young man named Tyler was impeccably dressed wearing a suit and a stylish overcoat. His hair was slicked back and he looked like he could have stepped from the pages of a men’s fashion magazine.

  “How you are doing, man?” asked Tyler.

  “Great now that I’m seeing you. I was beginning to think you were gone for good.”

  “No way, man. Just been on assignment. You know how it is.” Tyler slid into the other side of the booth, unbuttoning his coat and signaling the waitress for a cup of coffee.

  “So, is this a social visit or a work visit?” questioned Falau.

  A slow smile crept across Tyler’s face as he looked up without lifting his head.