Private Detective: BENNINGTON P.I.: A thrilling four-novel political murder mystery private detective series...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  I could see Talbot shuffling his feet, seemingly trying to make up his mind about what to do next. If he came in here to do me harm, he sure as hell didn’t seem too willing to get on with it. My patience had worn thin, having grown more than tired of hiding out in the bathroom stall waiting for Talbot to leave.

  I opened the door and glared back at the other man. He looked genuinely frightened of me, perhaps sensing I was teetering on a razor’s edge between flight or fight.

  “What the hell is this all about Talbot? Give me the damn abridged version, and make it quick.”

  Jacob Talbot’s mouth opened, and then abruptly closed as the door into the bathroom was pushed inward. I moved past both Talbot and a short, older man who I was pretty certain worked on the Hill with a Michigan senator’s staff. It didn’t matter, I just wanted out of that restroom.

  I quickly surveyed the interior surroundings and once satisfied there was no sign of any cops, walked quickly to the bar and withdrew the manila envelope from my jacket and handed it to Reg.

  “I need you to keep that safe Reg. And order up a couple steaks and have them sent to my table.”

  Such was the appeal of the Off the Record. Reg simply nodded back at me, saying nothing as he took the envelope and then placed it somewhere behind the bar.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Bennington. You had some visitors asking about you. They left about a half minute ago.”

  I nodded back at the bartender.

  “So I heard. Thanks, Reg.”

  Talbot was already back seated at our table, his face pinched and nervous. The guy looked like he was ready to bolt.

  “You ok, Talbot? Calm down, man. Just start telling me what you know about whatever mess you and Walt were involved in? And like I told you before, give me the abridged version.”

  The bar was filling up with more people, the sound of their conversations adding to a sense of security that nobody would hear what Talbot and I were talking about.

  Talbot took a deep breath and then looked across the small table at me and raised his eyebrows slightly.

  “Just open that envelope Frank and see what is inside. Many of the answers you want are probably already there.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

  “I never said I had any envelope, Talbot. See?”

  I opened my jacket to reveal I was hiding nothing inside of it. Talbot’s eyes grew wide with confusion as his mouth hung open.

  “But you opened the storage locker, right? That’s why you were there. Wasn’t there an envelope inside?”

  I leaned back in my seat as I saw the steaks I had ordered making their way to our table.

  “I told you it was a hunch that proved empty. You thought I was lying to you?”

  Talbot gave a weak grin as his eyes fell to his hands resting on top of the table.

  “Yes, Frank, I assumed you were lying. It doesn’t make any sense. I knew Walt was keeping information at that locker, he told me he was. So when I learned of his death, I knew someone would show up to that locker. That someone was you, Mr. Bennington.”

  I looked at the steak now sitting in front of me with considerable appreciation. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was.

  “So it’s back to Mr. Bennington huh? Guess we’re not buddies anymore. Try that steak – best rib eye in the city, guaranteed.”

  Talbot pushed his plate away, a hint of disgust on his face.

  “I’m a vegan, Frank – don’t eat meat.”

  I grunted back at Talbot’s declaration of avoiding all things animal. Vegans, vegetarians, whatever the hell they liked to call themselves, I just didn’t get it. How could anyone not enjoy a well prepared steak? Or some slow cooked ribs glazed with some Kansas City barbeque sauce? Fried chicken, bacon and eggs, I mean c’mon. Vegan? Really? Not for me. No way. Cook that critter up and bring it to me.

  My fork flashed across the table and imbedded itself in what was to be Talbot’s steak, bringing the medium rare piece of delicious meat back onto my plate where its lightly salted, melt in your mouth goodness would be given the attention it so richly deserved.

  “Ok then, I’ll eat and you talk. What’s this all about Talbot?”

  Jacob Talbot removed his glasses and slowly cleaned them off. His shoulders slumped slightly as his eyes raised and regarded me with the same deep weariness I had noted earlier.

  “Do you know it was just over sixty degrees outside today Frank, and that is nearly four degrees under normal temperatures for this time of year?”

  What the hell is he on about?

  I could feel my headache returning. I still didn’t know if Talbot was friend or foe, but he sure as hell knew how to talk out his ass, and was now adding weather reports to his bullshit repertoire.

  “Please, Frank, let me explain. It won’t take long.”

  I slammed another piece of steak into my mouth and followed it up with a quick sip of scotch.

  “You got five minutes, Talbot. Get to it.”

  Talbot cleared his throat and pushed his glasses higher up on his nose.

  “After I lost that campaign all those years ago, the one for Congress, I took a position with an environmental advocacy group. I was, in essence, a lobbyist.”

  I nodded my head and took another drink.

  “Yeah, I remember. You were doing that for a few years and then last I heard, you went back to Ohio, right?”

  Talbot nodded back at me.

  “That’s right, but before I left, there was a…a disagreement between myself and the advocacy group. A matter of truth over lies, Frank. A very serious breach of the public trust.”

  Having finished off my own steak, I started in on Talbot’s.

  “So? This is Washington D.C.! Its entire existence is based upon wiping its ass every damn day with the public trust. What’s your point?”

  Talbot shifted in his seat and then pointed to the ceiling of the Off the Record.

  “You see those light bulbs used for the recessed lighting in here Frank? There must be thirty or forty of those bulbs in this single business establishment alone. And do you know what the cost for each of those bulbs is?”

  I glanced above my head and then shrugged. This was getting ridiculous.

  “No Talbot, and your time is about up. I don’t have time for this shit.”

  Talbot’s right hand pressed down onto my left forearm and squeezed it tightly.

  “Please Frank, just listen to me a bit longer. What I’m explaining to you is what killed Walt, and what might kill the both of us if we aren’t very careful.”

  I glanced toward the entrance of the bar and saw two men enter, both of them scanning the tables, clearly looking for someone. I didn’t recognize either one of the men, but my instincts warned they were likely looking for me.

  “We have company. You recognize either one of those two guys standing over by the entrance?”

  Talbot turned slowly to look over his shoulder before his head turned quickly back to me, panic dancing behind his glasses.

  “I believe those are the men who killed Walt.”

  I stared back at the taller of the two, just in time for him to lock eyes with me. He was a younger man, no more than thirty, with a prominent, square jaw, deep set eyes, and wide, powerful shoulders. He was dressed in a black sport coat and blue jeans, and when he saw me and began moving slowly, yet deliberately across the bar toward my table, it was the movement of a man supremely confident in his ability to inflict harm on others.

  The second man was much shorter, no more than five foot six, and older, perhaps fifty or even sixty years of age. He was dressed in a short sleeved white dress shirt and ill-fitting pair of grey slacks that pushed much of his lower stomach up and over his belt. His brown hair was done up in a rather pathetic comb over, with several long strands falling down across his high and wide forehead. He too looked my way, and I saw his eyes gleam in recognition of either Talbot or me, or possibly both of us.

  “Oh shit, here they come.”

&nbs
p; The panic in Talbot’s voice was considerable. I wasn’t feeling so calm myself, but figured the best way for us to remain safe was to keep our asses firmly planted in our seats and hope having thirty or so other witnesses in the bar with us would be enough to keep us safe – for now.

  “Keep it together, Talbot. Nothing is gonna happen as long as we’re sitting here at this table.”

  I was almost sure I was right.

  Almost.

  14.

  The shorter of the two men, who also appeared to be the one in charge, paused next to Talbot while looking down at me. A sneer slashed across his face as he placed his right hand on Talbot’s shoulder and squeezed it tightly.

  “Mind if we sit down and have a friendly little talk?”

  I looked back up at Mr. comb-over and shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

  “It’s a small table. Not sure we have room, but do your best.”

  Comb-Over glanced back at the taller man and tilted his head to his left, indicating he wanted the other man to stand watch by the bar’s entrance. He then moved a chair over to our table and sat down, a wide smile breaking across his fleshy, pasty- white face. I noted his smile was a rather sad, yellowed row of small corn-kernel teeth in need of some serious cleaning. He looked every bit the failed accountant who would be stuck in the basement of a large company complaining that somebody had stolen his stapler, and demanding he wanted it back. Despite his appearance though, the man seemed certain he held the upper hand in whatever situation I found myself involved in.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  My question remained unanswered as the man stared back at me, the thin layer of sweat covering his forehead threatening to turn into a torrential downpour.

  “No thank you, Mr. Bennington. This is more of a business meeting if you will. I believe you have something the people I work for would very much like to have back.”

  Whoever the guy was, he already knew my name and I assumed was referring to the manila envelope Walt had left in the storage locker. The envelope Reg was now keeping safely hidden behind the bar.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, whatever your name is, but I don’t have what you and Mr. Talbot here seem to think I have. In fact, I got no damn clue what any of this is about, and can’t seem to get Jacob here to get to the point in explaining it.”

  Talbot cleared his throat and looked over at the other man, his eyes indicating he wasn’t certain if he had permission to speak. The noise in the bar was growing louder as more people entered, giving me the confidence to become more aggressive in trying to get some answers from either Talbot or the other man.

  “How about you start by telling me who you are, and who you’re working for?”

  The man looked at Talbot again and then ran his hand across the top of his scalp, trying to pin down the long strands of hair that attempted to hide the all too apparent fact of his baldness.

  “My name is Albert Deckler, of Deckler Investigations. I’m a private investigator Mr. Bennington.”

  It was my turn to smile, though thankfully, my teeth were in far better condition than Deckler’s.

  “Hey, I’m a P.I. too! Small world, huh?”

  Deckler appeared less than amused, his former sneer returning in all its former glory.

  “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Mr. Bennington.”

  I leaned forward in my seat, my voice coming out in a snarled hiss.

  “Just like Walter. You know anything about who killed my friend?”

  Deckler folded his hands on the table and shook his head.

  “I’m asking the questions, Mr. Bennington, not you. Now we know you have something, a folder, a file, envelope, something that doesn’t belong to you, and all I’m asking on behalf of my clients, is that you give it back. I’ve even been authorized to offer compensation for your cooperation.”

  I picked at some remnants of steak left on my plate, outwardly looking bored with anything and everything Mr. Comb-Over had to say, though inside my own head, I had to admit I was intrigued at how much these guys might be willing to pay for what was inside that envelope.

  “So you’re offering to pay me for something I just told you I don’t have? Sounds good to me – leave the cash on the table here and you can be on your way.”

  I could tell that remark got under Deckler’s skin. His eyes flashed angrily as his hands clasped and unclasped several times on top of the table.

  “This isn’t a joke, Mr. Bennington. You are involving yourself in something far greater than you can understand. I’m urging you to accept my offer of compensation and hand over the material given to you by Mr. Walter Till.”

  I widened my eyes in mock surprise, dismissing Deckler’s ominous warning with my own ridicule.

  “Oooohhh, it all sounds so spooky, Mr. Deckler. Not as uncomfortable as having to look at your haircut there, but yeah, pretty scary stuff. I wish I had what you’re looking for, but gosh darn it, I just don’t know what that could be! If only Walt were here we could ask him, but we can’t – because he’s dead.”

  “Frank, give him what he wants. It’s not worth it. They know who you are, they know you got it, so just hand it over and let’s be done with all this. And he’s right, we can pay you for the information. I’m prepared to do that myself.”

  I turned in my chair to stare back at Talbot. His eyes were too calm, his demeanor too controlled. It seemed he had been trying to appear and sound more earnest and nervous than he actually was.

  I’d had more than enough of this shit.

  “You both can go. I don’t have whatever it is you think I do. It’s been an interesting day, Talbot, I’ll give you that, but I’m out. I’d just like to let my meal settle, maybe have another couple drinks, and never see either of you assholes again.”

  Deckler’s right hand reached across the table and clamped down on my left wrist, his words hissing forth with considerable, pent-up frustration.

  “Give us what we want, Mr. Bennington – NOW.”

  “Or what? You gonna come at me in front of all these witnesses Deckler? I don’t think so. Plus, you’re not certain I do have what you’re looking for, are you? No, you’re just hoping that’s the case, but you don’t know. Neither does Talbot here. Frankly, I’m starting to think you two are working together in all this – whatever “this” is.

  I could see Deckler’s partner looking across the bar at our table, watching intently as Deckler continued to cling to my wrist.

  “Perhaps you should know something Mr. Bennington, something that involves a young Brazilian woman with whom you have spent a considerable amount of time with in recent months. She’s certainly beautiful.”

  Silia.

  Not yet certain if Deckler was making a legitimate threat against Silia, I continued to act indifferent to his demands.

  “I know a lot of beautiful women, but wouldn’t call any of them a serious obligation. Get my drift? Nice try, but that won’t scare me into going along with your bullshit. And let me repeat it once again since you seem to be incapable of understanding – I DON’T HAVE WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR.”

  Albert Deckler released his grip on me and responded with a thin, sly smile.

  “Very well, Mr. Bennington. I’m going to make a call and then we’ll see if you might feel differently.”

  Deckler withdrew his cell phone and dialed a number, the thin smile remaining on his face as he held the phone to his ear.

  “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here with him now. Put her on the phone.”

  Deckler reached across and placed his phone next to my head. Silia’s heavily accented voice cried out from the other end.

  “Frank! They took me! Frank!”

  I attempted to grab the phone but Deckler withdrew it quickly and put it back to his ear.

  “I’ll check in again soon. Hold her there until you hear from me.”

  Deckler ended the call and looked back at me coldly. I looked away from him and instead focused on Talbot.


  “Ok, I’ll give it to you. Not HIM – but you.”

  Talbot’s shoulders slumped slightly, grateful for my willingness to now cooperate.

  “I think that’s wise, Frank. We need to just end all of this. So where’s it at?”

  I glanced back toward the restrooms.

  “I hid it in there after we came in. I’ll go get it.”

  As Deckler began to rise up from his chair to protest, I noted how Talbot shot him a look that resulted in the private investigator closing his mouth and sitting back down. It was no more than a half second of unspoken communication between the two men, but it was enough to convince me that Deckler was in fact likely working for Jacob Talbot, meaning Talbot was in charge of this bullshit charade.