Mink Too, All the Riches in the World Can't Buy Love

by B. L Wilson

  Ingrams shrugged as he played with his hat. “I don’t know, Sarge. I’ll have to check.”

  Liz rubbed the bridge of her nose before she spoke. “Get back to me straightaway, Ingrams. See how fast you can get me the hell out of here!” she added as a stark afterthought. She walked around the small cell after Ingrams left, imagining the worst. That she’d get out in just enough time to find Susan murdered and buried in the foundation of a Flint Industries’ construction project. Meanwhile, Johnny Flint escaped to a country that didn’t have an extradition treaty with the US. He was free as a wealthy bird could be. Damn it, waiting around here is shit! She wanted to be out of this holding cell and doing something useful like protecting Susan.

  CHAPTER TWELVE … Mine, all mine

  “Fuck the old man and his goddamned promises! The company is mine! I’m the one who sweated blood trying to keep freaking shit from sinking. I spent nights worrying about the lousy deals he made with the banks and the investors trying to keep the damned company solvent,” he muttered. He massaged his temples, trying to ease the headache he felt invading the front of his head. He sat at the desk and stared at the lit cigar in the ashtray. He pounded a fist on top of the papers resting on the desk in front of him. “The son of a bitch just gave the company away to somebody who didn’t even do a damn thing to earn it! The fucking bitch doesn’t even know how to run it!”

  He sighed and rubbed his fly. He was getting hard just thinking about what he needed to do. He blew smoke rings at the oil portrait of his father that hung on the wall next to the desk and giggled. He sat in his father’s leather chair with his feet up on the large desk that had belonged to his father and muttered, “Just one more, Daddy and it’s all over.”

  He blew another smoke ring into the air and grinned, returning the cigar to the ashtray. He reached into his pants to help his cock get hard. He stroked it and then rubbed the knob. As good as it felt, he couldn’t concentrate and his penis went limp. He kept thinking about the final step. With the cop bitch gone, getting to the last person on his list was child’s play. Nobody knew about the agreement he found buried in his father’s papers. Nobody, except the old fart who wrote it and one other person. He killed that bastard in his sleep. The other asshole avoided his wrath, but that was okay, he’d come back and kill him too. Once he removed this last obstacle, the company was his, all his. He tired of this cat and mouse game anyway.

  He punched in the number to Susan’s cell phone. “How about coming to the club for dinner? I even promise to behave tonight,” he added as an afterthought.

  Susan sighed. She was disappointed when the call wasn’t from Liz or one of the other Gilmores. She’d hoped to hear from Lizzie several hours ago. She glanced at her watch. How long did it take to arrest somebody? “I can’t, Johnny. Call me next week.”

  “Aw, come on, Suzie Q. Let me make up it up to you. I was rude to you and your friend at the club the last time. Bring your girlfriend along too. We’ll make a night of it. You know you want to do it. I haven’t seen you for two weeks. Is that any way to treat a friend? Come on, Baby. Let me take your mind off your troubles for a night, Suzie,” he begged.

  Johnny’s right, I have been working too hard. I need a break. I’m of tired of all this crap. Susan glanced at her watch again. It wouldn’t hurt to see him for a little while. I need something to take my mind away from Liz. “All right, Johnny. You’re right. I could use a break. Pick me up in twenty minutes.”

  Susan grinned as she thought about hanging out with Johnny again. She did miss his company. Three weeks was a long time not to see her best friend. Her only problem was how to evade the Gilmore men. She could tell them where she was going, but that would mean one of them would be playing bodyguard. She was getting a little tired of that too. Why wasn’t Liz home yet? Lizzie was only person she didn’t mind guarding her body day or night. She sighed. She punched in Johnny’s number. “Make that the end of the driveway in ten minutes, Johnny.”

  “Jake, I’m going for a walk around the grounds,” Susan said over her shoulder as she walked past his car on her way to the end of the driveway.

  Jake opened the car door and started to get out.

  Susan held up a hand to stop him. “No, Jake, I’ll be fine. I just need some air for a few minutes. I promise to stay where you can see me,” she added to ease the worried look in his eyes.

  Jake watched Susan stroll down the long driveway until she reached the end. She paced back and forth impatiently, studying her watch as if she was waiting for someone. What’s she doing? Why did she stop there? he wondered, frowning. He didn’t have to wait long for the answers to his questions. A cloud of dust in the distance drew closer and he watched an expensive red car zoom down the road, then stop at the mouth of the driveway. Susan hustled to get in the car before he could call out.

  “Who the hell was that?” Jake muttered, watching the red car speed off. His cell phone chirped as he noted the direction in which the car sped away. “Yeah, Ingrams, it’s me. What’s up?”

  “The Sarge thinks the guy we’re looking for is John Flint.”

  Jake started his car. He debated if he should try to follow the expensive-looking car or wait to hear from Liz. “Are you sure about that? Isn’t the old man dead?”

  Ingrams nodded. “Yeah, he is. We just found out from your Washington friends that Old Man Flint’s blood type matches Susan Drummond’s blood. They checked his old army records against the sample she gave us. The kicker is that his son Johnny Flint’s DNA has some of the same markers as her DNA. Different mothers, same fathers.”

  Jake knew who was driving the expensive-looking red car that picked Susan up a minute ago. “Damn it! Susan doesn’t know, does she?”

  “No, we just got the results. Why?” Ingrams asked.

  Jake sighed. “I think she just got in his car. Is my sister getting out anytime soon, Ingrams?” he asked nervously.

  Ingrams nodded. “Yeah, they’re processing her papers as we speak.”

  “You got any idea where Flint might take her, Ingrams?” Jake hoped he could redeem himself by finding Susan Drummond before his sister found out she’d left. He knew if he didn’t find Susan first, there’d be hell to pay. Jesus, if something happened to Susan Drummond, he’d never forgive himself. He wondered if Liz could.

  “I’m running a list of Flint construction projects, but you know how slow the building’s department network is. They do everything manually, so it may take a while.”

  Jake groaned. “Where’s this club I’ve heard my sister talk about?”

  Ingrams gave him driving instructions.

  “Look, Ingrams, wait for my sister and keep your line open. I’m gonna tell my dad to go to Flint Industries’ main office.” Jake sighed and then added, “We’ll all keep our lines open. I got a bad feeling about this, a real bad one.”

  He sighed heavily as he started his car. He should have guessed Susan would try something like this. She’d been acting antsy since the sheriff’s deputies arrested Lizzie. According to his father, she paced back and forth in the house, then she went upstairs to speak with her father for about an hour. She went outside and played with Skipper for a few minutes. She came back inside, went in the kitchen, and stood looking out the window for the next sixty minutes. She turned on the television, watched the news, then became bored and went into Liz’s office, picking up things and putting them down. She let her cell ring twice, looking at the number before she answered it. That was probably when Johnny Flint called her. Shit! He didn’t do a good job of shadowing her. How stupid not to figure her next move would be to hang out with an old friend. She was probably lonesome without Lizzie nearby.

  Johnny grinned and opened the passenger door. “Hey, Suzie Q, I’m glad you decided to go out with me tonight. I missed you.”

  Two long, shapely legs slid onto the expensive leather seats. Susan leaned over and kissed Johnny’s cheek.

  Johnny admired her legs. “God, you look good, Suzie.” He rubbed a ski
rt-covered thigh as he winked at her.

  Susan frowned at the intimate contact and then smacked his hand. “Johnny, you promised to be good tonight, so behave, okay?”

  Johnny shrugged, moved his hand to the gearbox, and grinned. “Would you mind if we stopped by my place first? I need to pick up some papers for a conference with some developers tomorrow.”

  Susan nodded, then smiled at her old friend. “Sure. I haven’t been to your house in a while. It’ll be fun to see the changes you’ve been bragging about.”

  They turned off the main highway. He stopped at the front gate to check in with the guard. “Hey, Kenny, my man. How’s it going tonight?”

  “Fine, Mr. Flint. Hello, Ma’am.” The guard touched the brim of his hat and nodded to Susan.

  “Good evening, Kenny.” Susan yawned, gave the guard a tired smile, then closed her eyes as she reclined against the soft seat.

  Johnny drove the car up the driveway and around to the rear of the stately mansion, then parked.

  Susan felt the car stop as she covered a yawn. “Go ahead, Johnny. I’m tired. I’ll just wait for you here.” She snuggled back in the leather seat and closed her eyes.

  Johnny frowned at the sleepy woman. “Aw, come on inside, Suzie Q. You can lie down on the couch in the den while I get the papers. Anyway, you said you wanted to see the renovations I made.” He opened the passenger door and pulled her out. He brushed against Susan’s side when he put an arm around her shoulders and steered her into his father’s den. This was going to be easier than he expected with her so tired. She wouldn’t feel anything, which was just the way he wanted it. He didn’t want to hurt her. If she wasn’t so determined to be gay, he was sure they’d be sleeping together. Hell, maybe they’d even do a threesome with inquisitive, good-looking Sergeant Gilmore. Yeah, he would have liked that. He’d bet the two women wouldn’t have trouble getting him off. His dick jerked in his boxers when he thought about what could have been.

  Together, they walked into the room he used as his den. The room was dark. He reached over to turn on a tiffany lamp by the large cherry wood desk his grandfather had given his father and his father gave him. The desk sat deep into the room. Two tall French doors surrounded by heavy brocade drapes on either side provided the backdrop for the desk. Since it was a warm night, only the sheer drapes remained closed. They fluttered in the light breeze. The room looked like a super masculine den in a men’s magazine. Deep burgundy and forest green Persian rugs with intricately woven patterns covered a beautifully finished dark oak floor. Mahogany shelves ran from the floor to the beige-colored ceiling. Massive bookshelves covered three of the four walls next to the picture windows in the room.

  The fourth wall contained a hidden entertainment center. With the push of a button, a large projection screen rolled down from the ceiling and the computer center popped out from behind a large hand-carved wall cabinet. A visitor could watch the latest DVD disc, do a power point presentation, write a memo, or conduct a meeting using teleconferencing equipment from the computer center. Scattered throughout the room were comfortable-looking dark chocolate leather armchairs and straight back chairs. When a visitor entered the room, he’d see an invitingly soft, pine green leather couch and, behind that, a small bar.

  Johnny steered Susan to the couch and sat her down. “Sit here, Suzie. Let me fix you a drink before I get the papers.” He massaged her shoulders lightly, then smiled fondly at his best friend. “Do you still like those margaritas I used to fix?”

  Susan nodded. “Yes, that’d be nice.” All she wanted to do was see Lizzie and make sure she was all right. After that, who knew where the night might lead? She yawned again, then settled back against the soft leather and closed her eyes.

  Johnny turned around to hide his next actions. He opened the bottle of sleeping pills he’d hidden behind the liquor bottles and dumped a handful into the sweet drink he was making for Susan. He stirred it, careful not to slosh its contents on the rim. “Hey, Sleepyhead, here; drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

  A large hand with golden blond hairs suddenly popped into Susan’s field of vision, offering a drink. A soothing voice encouraged her to drink the concoction dangling in front of her face. “We have a long night of partying ahead of us. I can’t have you sleeping on the job now, can I?” Johnny asked, chuckling softly.

  Susan yawned and smiled at him. “No, we can’t have that, can we?”

  “Bottoms up, Suzie Q.” Johnny stared at her over the rim of his scotch, watching her to make sure she drank the entire glass.

  Susan slowly drank a quarter of the contents, then fiddled with the glass, running her fingers up and down the outside. “Hmm, Johnny this is good, better than at the club. You should give me your recipe.”

  “Come on, Suzie, finish it. Have another one.” Johnny brought the shaker over to the couch.

  “One is my limit tonight,” Susan replied as she shook her head and slowly sipped the remaining liquid. Johnny thought he would go out of his mind as he monitored the painstakingly slow process. She stood up to give him the glass and became light-headed. She held her head with her hands, then reached out to grab at the empty air and nearly stumbled into the couch. “Whoa! Johnny, I must have drunk it too fast. I feel dizzy.”

  “Sit back down on the couch, Baby. You just rest. I’ll only be a moment.” Johnny stood several feet away, watching his newfound sibling fall against the couch’s armrest. “Suzie, did you ever wonder what it’d be like if we were related?”

  Susan frowned and held her head as she sat down hard. The room moved strangely. Her brain knew she was sitting on Johnny’s couch, but she felt like she was floating outside her body. She watched everything happening to her as though she wasn’t part of it. She could hear Johnny’s familiar voice, but she couldn’t understand his words. Her brain couldn’t capture the words spinning around in her head and make sense of them. Suddenly, she felt like she’d run a quick fifty miles without stopping. “What, Johnny? I can’t …what? Ooo, Johnny, I feel funny.” She couldn’t keep her eyes open. Johnny’s voice sounded so far away. “Related to, what’s that? Oh God, I feel sick. Help me up.” She tried to push against the couch’s seat, but she had no strength in her hands or her legs. Her limbs felt like they weighed two tons. She fell back against the couch.

  Johnny sipped his scotch as he watched her struggle to rise from the couch. “Easy, Suzie Q, take it easy. Let the pills do their work so I can do mine,” he whispered, coming over to the couch. He pulled latex gloves out of his back pocket and yanked them on with a snap.

  The unexpected noise caused Susan to open one eye. “What? Johnny, are doing?” She concentrated on moving her tongue to speak. “I. Don’t you.” It was too much effort. She was so tired that her head lolled back against the couch. She closed her eyes when they became too heavy to keep open.

  Johnny watched Susan’s chest rise and fall for a few moments as he stood over her. He knelt down and adjusted her body until it lay flat on the couch, then he placed her hands on her chest so he could tape them together with gray duct tape. He stroked naked thighs and then ran a confident hand down her legs until he reached her ankles, which he taped together just as he’d done with her wrists. “What a pity I have to do this, Suzie Q. We coulda had some great times in bed.” He scooped up the unconscious woman into his arms, kissed her hard on the mouth, and then took her to the company truck parked in the backyard. He laid her on the ground, then tenderly wrapped her in the tarp he’d taken from one of the Flint construction sites, and gently placed her in the bed of the truck. “There you go, Sis. You’re all nice and snug as a bug in a rug.”

  He drove slowly along the back route that he sometimes took when he didn’t want to check out with the security guard. “It’s almost over,” he muttered, driving along the bumpy terrain of the back road and past the perfect place to hide a body. He wouldn’t be able to dump this body in the same site as Howie. The site was far too busy. The police were likely to catch him if h
e went there. It didn’t matter. He’d found another place, the perfect burial ground for someone who couldn’t swim.

  There was a beautiful lake behind one of the construction sites. If things went according to plan, her death would look like an accident. He’d already left a second sports car at the lake. She loved to drive his car almost as much as her own. She borrowed it whenever her father revoked her driving privileges. It wasn’t unusual to find her behind the wheel. He could make it look like she was speeding down the highway, overestimated a turn, and crashed into the lake. She’d die because she couldn’t swim. He’d live to run Flint Industries.

  He adjusted the rearview mirror to check on Susan. He grinned once he realized she hadn’t moved. He hoped he’d remember to remove the tape on her hands and feet before he put her at the wheel of the little sports car. His plan was foolproof. In a short time, he’d become the sole owner of Flint Industries again. He wasn’t in a hurry. He knew the effects from the pills lasted six hours, so he could afford to drive the speed limit all the way to the site.

  The court clerk had finished Liz’s release papers when Ingrams walked from the parking lot back to night court’s processing desk. The arresting officer brought Liz inside the waiting area in handcuffs. He was embarrassed as he removed the cuffs. “Sorry about the arrest, Sarge. I didn’t have a choice. The sheriff ordered me to do it.”

  Once freed, Liz rubbed her wrists. “It’s okay, Hall. I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault.” She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.” She spotted Ingrams as he strode through the door. “Hi, Ingrams, what are you doing back here?”

  Ingrams avoided her eyes to look at the floor. He didn’t want to be the bearer of her brother’s bad news, but he didn’t have a choice. Somebody had to tell his sergeant that Susan Drummond disappeared with the most likely suspect in the murder investigation. He sighed, not wanting to perform the dirty chore. “Sign the papers releasing your stuff, Sarge. Then we’ll talk.”