“Franklin kissing his wife? Oh, no, this person is not his wife.” The voice over the speakers had suddenly become disguised, tinny, with an electronic quality.
The grainy black and white parking lot photograph was now projected on the wall, plainly showing him kissing Susan Lovely.
“Uh!” was all Franklin Burke could say. “Where did you get that?” he said to the unknown voice.
“Who is she, Franklin Burke? She is most definitely not your wife.”
“What’s going on? Who are you people?” said Franklin, as he looked around the room.
“It doesn’t matter who we are; what matters is that in the next few moments you give us truthful answers,” said the voice.
Dr. Burke stood up and walked over to the door. It wouldn’t open. He looked for the hole where the projector would have been, and then the projector light went off, leaving him in pitch-black darkness.
“Help! Help!” he cried.
“Dr. Burke, don’t bother wasting your energy; you have rounds to attend to. If you want to get back on schedule, we suggest you answer the question quickly and truthfully. No one can hear you. This room is soundproofed, to keep any generators down here from disturbing any patients up there; you know that.”
Franklin felt along the wall. It felt different than sheetrock. He knew that the basement rooms were made of brick and cinder-block, and this brick room apparently had a different lining added to it. He felt for the door, and it also felt different, somehow heavier, thicker. If he got locked in here, it might be down here for a long time before anyone found him. He might starve or dehydrate in the meantime. He felt his way back to the chair.
“That’s a good man, Dr. Burke. Cooperation will speed things along.”
“I won’t tell you.”
“If that’s the case…,” the screen lit up again, but this time to a live black and white video. On screen, a person was holding the camera, or wearing one, since hands could be seen moving on both the left and right side of the screen. Judging from the angle, it looked as though the cameraman were wearing it on his head, maybe in a hat. He held an 8” x 10” copy of the photograph of Dr. Burke kissing a strange woman in his hand, showing it to the camera. He was sitting in a moving vehicle, and when the cameraman looked up, the strangely familiar neighborhood could be seen on screen. Maybe this was one of the “doctors” who had been with him when he got off the elevator. The vehicle turned a corner, and was traveling down the street to Dr. Burke’s home.
He stood up. “What are you doing? That’s near my house!”
“We know, Dr. Burke. But what we need to know is, who is the woman in that picture?”
The man in the live image held the photograph back in front of the camera, so that it lit up the screen again. Dr. Burke’s house was getting closer; the vehicle had stopped and the camera veered to the right, showing a clear shot of the Burke residence, a beautiful old mansion in the rich old section of Lovely.
“Well, Dr. Burke? Will you tell us who she is?”
“It’s nobody’s business.”
“As you can see, we’ve made it our business.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“As you wish, Dr. Burke.”
On the video, the cameraman opened the vehicle door and traveled up the long walk towards the front door, then showed an outstretched arm, wearing white gloves and a large, polka-dotted long sleeve, reaching for the doorbell. Dr. Burke turned his head sideways, wondering who would be wearing clothes like that?
A maid opened the door, looked at the cameraman and said, “Hello!”
“No, Sylvia, don’t let him in!” yelled Franklin.
“She cannot hear you, Dr. Burke. Only we can.”
”The children have been expecting you,” said Sylvia to the cameraman.
“Children?” said Franklin.
“Yes, Dr. Burke. Since you won’t tell us who she is, perhaps your children will.”
The cameraman walked into a room full of children, who began cheering when he walked in. They were all sitting there as though they had been expecting him! Then laughing filled the screen, along with funny noises with horns tooting and bells ringing. The hands in front of the camera were doing most of the work, with the cameraman blowing up balloons and twisting and tying them into animal shapes and giving them to different children, including one for his son, J.R.
“J.R.!” said Franklin Burke.
“Yes, your son, Dr. Burke. This is in front of all his friends and siblings. It’s your birthday, and they were all invited to help you celebrate. Happy birthday, Dr. Burke. You’re late for the party.”
“You get away from my kid!”
“Then tell us what we want to hear. If you don’t, perhaps others will.”
The party on the screen went on and on until the cameraman, or party clown, held up the picture toward his face until it filled the screen. “Who can tell me who this person is?” a voice at the party said, probably the cameraman, or party clown.
“No! Don’t!” said Franklin.
“Then tell us,” said the voice.
The children all seemed puzzled. A murmur of youthful voices filled the room. J.R. was sitting next to the youngest sister, Lucia.
“Does anyone know who she is?”
At this point, the camera focused on the picture again, held by the hands, with the image towards the camera, the image of Dr. Burke kissing Susan Lovely.
“How about youuuuuu, little boy?” said the voice.
The cameraman walked slowly over towards the little boy, who Franklin saw was J.R., picture in hand, with it still facing the camera. “Can you tell me who this lady is?”
“John Randall! No! Stop! I’ll tell! I’ll tell!”
In the next room, I said to myself, “John Randall?”
The cameraman/clown stopped.
I continued, “Who is she, Dr. Burke?”
“Her name is Susan Lovely. Susan Lovely, from a very distinguished family here in town.”
“That’s good, very good, Dr. Burke. The next question is, and be very quick about it, What is your relationship to her?”
“She’s not my wife.”
“This much we know, Dr. Burke. Start talking,” I said.
“She’s my… she’s my… I’ve been the Lovely family doctor for years. I was the personal physician for Cornelius Lovely. She’s his granddaughter.
“Explain this. What about the kiss?” I said.
“Her grandfather had just died. I was comforting her.”
There was a moment of no talking, but Dr. Burke could see the clown still walking toward John Randall.
“Were you? Were you now?” I continued: “Is that all, Dr. Burke?”
“No, no, that’s not all. She’s … I’m having an affair. With her.”
The clown/cameraman was showing the back of the photograph to John Randall, a photograph to the little boy, who said, “That’s not a girl; that’s Abraham Lincoln!”
The camerman/clown turned away from John Randall, and showed his hidden camera the other side of the grainy photograph; on the back was a picture of a long-haired Abraham Lincoln, with red crayon drawings to make him appear to be wearing long red hair.
The clown was heard to say, “You’re right! That’s no dame! What was I thinking?” and handed a five-dollar bill to J.R. “That’s for being so smart, kid!”
Franklin Burke quit sweating, but now was trembling. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Why are you seeing Miss Lovely, when you have a wife and children who love you?”
“I wanted… I felt… I love her.”
Silence ensued. Then from the speakers the electric voice said, “You may love her, but you didn’t make any promises to her. We have an interest in what’s best for everybody, and your seeing Miss Lovely is not in line with that.”
“Why are you interested?”
“You’re not here to ask questions. You’re here to cooperate. Our man is still at the party. Want him to ask your child how he�
��d like a new mother?”
“No. Don’t do that.”
“Your son’s childhood almost ended just now; you almost ended it. You can buy him a few more years if you cooperate. Will you cooperate?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We have an assignment for you.”
“What? What is it?”
“Your assignment is … to keep away from Susan Lovely, to break all ties with her, and to be a faithful husband and father.”
The screen went dark, and the room became pitch-black again. After a few moments, Dr. Burke heard the door unlock. He felt his way toward the door, turned the knob and slowly opened it. Stepping out into the hall, he looked up one way and down the other, but saw nobody. He checked his watch. He’d probably lost 45 minutes out of his day. He was behind schedule, but quickly headed out into the parking lot to go home. He was sweating and trembling, and beginning to feel angry, perhaps angry with himself. Who would do this to him, and involve his family?
At the House
Franklin Burke drove home, getting there in record time. The party was still in high gear, and there were bicycles everywhere in their front yard, showing that young people were still around. He parked his car in the street, not bothering to drive into his own courtyard and garage, then headed up the steps and around the house, looking for anything out of the ordinary, like wires or cameras, and walked into the kitchen from the back.
The maid and cook were surprised to see him, greeting him with “Happy birthday, Dr. Burke,” but he brushed by them quickly, walking toward the center of the house. Helen spotted him entering the dining room area where all the children were congregated, saying to him, “Franklin! I’m so glad you’re home… Franklin?” She noticed his wild-eyed look, as though he’d seen something terrible. He breezed past her, entering the area where kids were playing video-games, and found J.R. Kneeling down where J.R. was seated, he struggled to compose himself, saying, “J.R…, “ then hugged his child. Helen watched the episode without a word, knowing something had happened. J.R. looked up as if nothing were out of the ordinary; his father was home. “Happy birthday, Dad!” he said.
“Thank you, son”; he gave his J.R. another hug. Seeing this little scene made Helen wonder what had happened. Franklin stood up; the other children in the room hadn’t noticed anything; they were playing among themselves. He turned to Helen and asked, “Is the clown still here?” looking very angry.
“No, he just left.”
Almost under his breath, he mumbled, “Did he say or do anything unusual?”
Helen searched Franklin’s wild eyes, trying to put all of this together. “He was a clown; everything was unusual! He did balloon tricks, told a few jokes, and did some magic… you know, the usual things that birthday clowns do.”
“Did you get his name? What company he worked for?”
“The ‘Happy-Go-Lucky’ company called and said their regular guy was sick and couldn’t make it, so they were sending a fill-in, who supposedly had a good reputation in the business… Franklin, what’s this all about?”
“Nothing, dear, nothing. I’m just being … careful. You can’t be too sure of anything these days.”
Helen looked at him but didn’t say anything.
Franklin then looked as though he thought of something. He turned to her again, saying, “Helen, is anything missing, or have you noticed anything misplaced around the house?”
Helen looked puzzled and said, “Why no, no, I haven’t noticed anything missing. Have you? What’s wrong, Franklin? What’s going on?”
“Where do you keep our wedding album?” he insisted. “Where are our wedding and family photographs?”
“In the library, where we keep most of our photographs, in records and albums. Many of them are on display on the wall in the hallway. Some of the albums are upstairs in our closets. Why?”
“I’ve seen some of our family pictures recently. If somebody got into the house, they could have taken photographs of the hallway portraits.”
He focused on Helen to ask more questions, saying, “Who’s been here recently? Plumbers? Electricians? Who?”
“Franklin, you’re almost out-of-control; you’re scaring me!”
“Just tell me what I want to know!”
“Daddy, do you want to open presents now?” asked Lucia, who walked up on them without suspecting that anything was wrong.
“Not now, dear,” said Franklin. “Soon.”
“Okay. We’ll play some more games,” Lucia said, then turned to go back to the other children.
“Lucia!” Franklin said loudly.
She stopped and turned back to her father. “Yes, Daddy?”
Franklin looked down at Lucia, got down closer on her level, and hugged her. “Thank you for reminding Daddy. I love you,” he said and kissed her on the cheek.
She hugged her Daddy, Franklin stood up, and Lucia returned to playing with the other children, as though everything were normal.
Helen watched all this, knowing something was wrong, but figured the quickest way to remedy things was to answer Franklin’s questions. “Franklin, we did have some work done on the back guestroom; we had a painter in to touch it up last week. I was volunteering at the animal shelter, and Sylvia let him in. He’d have to go through the long hallway on the way back there… he’d see all the family photographs, but no pictures are missing. Why would anybody want our photographs, Franklin?”
“That would explain it,” said Dr. Burke. “I’ve just seen some pictures pop up that shouldn’t be out there, but now I know how they did it. Did you pay him by check?”
“No, I left money for Sylvia to pay him with cash; some of them prefer it that way, you know.”
He looked down at Helen, realizing he’d caused some tension in the home; Franklin winced, then said, “It’s nothing, dear, just some people playing a prank on me for my birthday.”
“Must be some prank! For a minute there, you had me worried, dear.”
“Fellow workers at the hospital were wishing me a happy birthday and somehow they got our photographs, pictures of me when I was younger, you know, the typical birthday stuff.”
“They must have really gone out of their way to mix with painters. Maybe they came in with them?”
“Yes. Maybe. Perhaps,” thought Dr. Burke. “Maybe they weren’t doctors.”
“You must really be well-liked at the hospital for your co-workers to do something like this,” said Helen, still hoping for a better explanation.
“They do this sort of thing a lot,” said Dr. Burke. “At the hospital.”
“Maybe you could invite me to some of the birthday parties so I could see for myself.”
“Oh, it’s just foolish stuff, dear. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”
“If you say so,” said Helen. “Happy birthday, dear.”
“Thank you.”
He kissed his bride, but kept an eye open, looking for anything, or anyone, out of place in the room full of children; anyone was suspect, now.
At Estella’s
David had joined Walter and me at a back table, being waited on by Kim, who brought us our drinks, then left us alone to talk about whatever it was that older gentlemen wanted to talk about in secret; she really didn’t want to know. David was looking around, soaking in the atmosphere; I was accustomed to it by now, and Walter was in his second home.
We refrained, or tried to refrain from congratulating each other, even though there was an obvious feeling which was mutual among us; we had accomplished something of worth. We had taken a bold step to save a family and directed a wayward husband back to the fold, where he ought to be. We were well aware that this wasn’t necessarily the nicest or kindest way to do it, but there was a consensus that this had been the most effective way. Without knowing who we were, Franklin Burke would wonder for the rest of his life who the three mysterious gentlemen were, men who had invaded his life, knew his secrets and forced him to make a quick and good decision. We also left
him with another mystery that he would have to wonder about: Would we tell? Would we blackmail him? We knew his secret, and his wife (and daughter) had suspicions, but perhaps nothing more needed to be said about his recent poor choices. Let the fellow live with his mistake; he’d taken his lumps and now would walk the straight and narrow.
David had successfully snuck in and out of his home as a painter, and we all had done the same with the hospital, complete with audio-visual equipment, and had timed it so any maintenance workers who usually walked around the basement were at lunch. Walter had rerouted the elevator controls, and rendered security cameras he came upon as useless. We were quite pleased with ourselves. We drank our drinks and tried not to smile, but we couldn’t help it.
By now, Franklin had cut all ties with Susan Lovely and turned his mind and hopefully his heart back to Helen Ceraldi-Burke, his wife, the mother of his children.
A saying at my workplace among the engineers, which had a ring of truth, was, “It’s cheaper to keep her.” This should appeal to men who think highly of their financial well-being, and so it ought to apply to Dr. Franklin Burke, as well, if he ever figured it out. This saying is usually true, unless the wife was a dedicated spend-thrift.
“Wish I could have seen his face,” said Walter. “I’d have paid real money to have been there for that.”
“You were needed at the party; you did your part well,” I said, trying to make up for Walter’s loss. “He wouldn’t have budged without your holding the picture.”
“I wonder if we should have brought the kids into this,” mused David.
“What do you mean?” said Walter. “Of course we should have brought them into it. You heard Randall; he wouldn’t have cracked without them being involved!”
David wasn’t totally convinced. “Why couldn’t we have just confronted him with his wife? After all, he knew he was cheating; why not have Helen be a part of this?”
“We could have done that,” I replied. “But do you think it would have been as effective? After all, as you said, he knew he was cheating on her. He just hadn’t thought out the consequences; that’s all.”
The Lovely Chocolate Mob Page 12