Taking out the keys, I opened the front door. Walking in, I saw that the television light was on; I knew I hadn’t left that running. I didn’t watch TV today; what was going on?
Walking further in the house, I saw Walter, lying down on my couch with a blanket pulled up over him. He looked up at me and said, “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here for hours!”
I didn’t say anything, being stupefied.
He continued, “Ate some of your Texas Chili; hope you don’t mind.”
I finally came to myself. “What are you doing here?”
Now Walter was the one with the surprised look. “What do you mean, what am I doing here?” he asked. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“How did you get away?”
“I got in my RV, started ‘er up and drove, and I came straight here. I’ll need a place to stay for a little while; hope I don’t get in your way.”
“You won’t be in my w-----“, I said, then stopped to get to the point. “What happened to the helicopter? Didn’t you shoot it out of the sky?”
“The helicopter? Oh, that! Well, yes, I guess I did.”
“You killed the pilot? The police? The FBI? How many people were killed?”
“I didn’t kill anybody; what are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about?” I asked in disbelief. “I saw you point a bazooka toward a helicopter!” Now I was getting close to hysterical.
“Bazooka? What bazooka? That wasn’t a bazooka! Those things are dangerous! You could kill somebody with those!”
“Well, what were you pointing at it?” I demanded.
“That was a modified electronic-pulse scrambler, powered with 10 “D” alkaline batteries!”
“It was a bazooka!” I insisted.
“I said modified! It used to be a bazooka, but not anymore!” said Walter, amazed that I didn’t get it. “Sheesh, you think I wanna kill someone? Killing is bad!”
I sat down and then realized what had happened and put my head in my hands. So this is how Miss Planter felt.
“You thought I shot a helicopter out of the sky? Oh, ye of little faith! How could you ever think that about me?”
“I crawled a mile underground to come home to find you watching TV on my couch,” I explained without looking up. “I thought you had killed federal agents and were in jail.”
“No,” explained Walter. “Let me tell you what I did. I aimed my pulse-gun at the helicopter, and it locked in on the exact radio frequency being used by the helicopter. All these new helicopters are digital now, and a digital design flaw is all it takes to give me an entrance into the cockpit dashboard. I had my gun pre-set for ‘gas gauge,’ so when I pulled the trigger, it shut off power to the gas light. When the gas light goes “off,” the computer on board reads it as “empty,” since it’s essentially the same thing. The alarm automatically went off, alerting the pilot he’s fresh out of gas and had better land quickly, which is just exactly what he did. He lit out of there looking for a clear place with no trees or telephone lines, pronto! Then I came here.”
“You’re saying that nobody got killed? No explosion, no crashes?”
“That’s what I’m saying! Neat, huh?”
“Where did they go?”
“I don’t know; the last I saw of them they were headed south, and quick, too!”
I let this soak in. “Nobody died,” I said.
“Nope, not a one.”
“You’re not a killer.”
“Randall, I may be a lot of things, but I haven’t killed anybody, at least not yet. Killing is where I draw the line.”
“And you just drove away? What about the police back-up? Weren’t there any cars and sirens?”
“I heard sirens, but I didn’t wait around to meet them; I got the heck out of there!”
“Oh, my goodness,” I said. “I’m so tired.”
“I think it would do you some good to take a shower and go to bed. You stink.”
“I think I’ll do just that. But let me call in sick first; I’ll just leave a message on the machine at work.”
The Second Day
That day I slept and didn’t get up until the second morning; I don’t recover as quickly as I used to, not after great physical exertion. I was up early the second day and read two days’ worth of newspapers and drank coffee and watched the sun rise on the back porch. Walter didn’t disturb me the whole time. I guess he stayed out in his RV. He’d parked it next to my house, away from the driveway and under the pine trees and the one pecan tree on the lot, which provided cover from above. I’m glad he left my driveway clear for me; that was thoughtful of him. It was late springtime, and there were plenty of leaves, so he probably wouldn’t be spotted from the sky. Maybe the neighbors thought I had bought a new RV, or else that I had visitors. It’s a good thing there was no house on the lots on both sides of mine; one house burned down years ago, and the other had been deserted and just got old, so the city bulldozed it before it became a drug haven. I enjoyed the extra space, and mowed all the lots myself, since I had a riding lawn mower.
Hopefully the FBI wouldn’t put out any recreational vehicle “Wanted” posters at the post office.
Anyway, it was such a relaxing morning; it felt good to be out of the drain pipe, and I was glad that Walter also made his escape. I wondered why he needed a place to stay, since all he really needed was to put that vehicle in an RV park, where they had hook-ups for electrical, water, and sewage facilities. Maybe he was short on funds. I didn’t really mind; it was nice to have some company around here.
Getting back to the grind was another story; I took my sweet time going in to work. I really didn’t feel like working, but knew I’d have a lot of catching up to do. Also, I had an appointment with Miss Planter, and it would be good to have a little female point-of-view on the matters of infidelity and matrimony. Maybe I should have asked her about this earlier.
Work dragged on, until the current water project became more interesting as the day passed by, and once I got into it, time started to speed up. Before I knew it, it was lunchtime, time to go see the mental health counselor.
Good thing the drive over to the medical center was short; I was really eager to see Miss Planter. Maybe I was a little wound up; perhaps I should have tried to relax a little so as not to appear too eager. I didn’t want to scare Miss Planter any more than I did the last time I saw her.
I sat in the waiting room, not reading, just eagerly anticipating the appointment. I wondered what she’d want to talk about. I suspected she knew me pretty well by now.
The door opened; Miss Planter gave her usual welcome and invited me into her office. I bounded in, took my place, and waited for her to pick up the clipboard, on which she wrote her impressions of me.
“Mr. Owen, I’m afraid we cannot continue our sessions,” she said with as little emotion as possible.
Now, for some reason, this news hit me like a runaway car.
“What?”
“I think you may be a loose cannon,” she said. “You and your cohorts scared a local doctor half to death. I know this doctor; I’ve seen him around in the medical community. He’s no threat to anyone.”
“Me, a loose cannon?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, that I’m afraid you have gone too far in your quest to help an old girlfriend by forcing a man to do what you consider to be right, against his will.”
“Well,” I stammered, “don’t you consider marriage to be the right thing? Don’t you think some things are worth fighting for?”
Miss Planter stopped for a moment, looked at me and said, “Yes, I believe that marriage is the best arrangement… for a couple who wishes to be married.
I thought I had her there, until she said, “But obviously in the case you’re involved with, one of the two acts as if he wishes to escape his vows.”
“And if he does go through with this, what happens to his wife and kids?” I asked, hoping to gain ground.
“Undoubtedly they will be in for some rough times,” said Miss Planter, “but that seems to be the pattern for our society.”
“Yeah, well, that stinks!”
This outburst shocked Miss Planter a bit; I suppose I should have watched my reactions, but since this was a truth-telling session, and since she wanted to terminate our arrangements here, I figured I’d better give my opinions, quickly.
“Yes, I’m sure it does,” said Miss Planter, finally. “But we can’t cure all of society’s ills.”
“Maybe we can fix a few of them; how will we know unless we try?”
“Mr. Owen, your methods of curing society’s ills are almost inhumane and barbaric.”
“Barbaric? Let me tell you what barbaric is: Leaving your wife and kids for a rich bimbo, that’s barbaric! Wouldn’t you agree?”
Miss Planter looked at me as though she were studying me. Then she laughed. “Yes, I agree with that. But how do you force someone, against his or her will, to do what you consider to be the right thing?”
I was relieved that I had made Miss Planter laugh. Maybe I hit something personal with her.
“You’ve just reminded me of a story. Would you like to hear it, Miss Planter?”
She smiled, even though this would interfere with her “firing me” business. “Yes, I would.”
“Then can we consider this to be a session?”
“This is no time for bargaining.”
“Then I’ll tell my story,” I said, overruling her last statement. “It was told to me back in high school by a classmate. He was telling me about a family situation one day, for what reason I don’t know, but we were talking about marriage and family, that sort of thing. He mentioned that his uncle had cheated in marriage on his aunt a few years prior. Shall I continue?”
“Yes, please do.” Miss Planter seemed a little interested now; she was sitting up a little straighter. I knew she was paying attention, even though it was only a slight movement.
“Well, he was telling me about his uncle’s dalliance with some lady outside the family. This had happened, and the news somehow got out and around, and anyhow, this young man’s father and uncles found out. They were the brothers to his aunt, and there were three of them.”
Miss Planter gave me a look as though something wasn’t right.
“So,” I continued, “one weekend, they were going on their regular hunting trip, and they invited this straying uncle to come along with them, to be in on this hunt. Do you see where this is going?”
“I think I do,” said Miss Planter.
“Anyhow, once they got out there and got situated out in the woods, away from so-called civilization, the three brothers jumped the straying uncle and just beat the living tar out of him. They gave him a pretty good whooping, and told him if he ever cheated on their sister again, they were going to take their hunting knives and turn him into a eunuch!”
Miss Planter’s eyes got wide.
“And this classmate of mine, he said that his uncle was a real good uncle, a nice guy. And he’d been faithful to his wife ever since.”
Since the story was over, Miss Planter questioned me about it; I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
“So, Mr. Owen, you believe it’s all right to take someone out into the woods and give them a thrashing that would straighten them up to perform in society in a manner that you would approve?”
“I’m not saying that beating someone to a pulp is a good thing,” I replied. “I’m saying, according to this story, that it worked in this case. And you just can’t argue with success.”
Miss Planter looked a little amused; it almost appeared that she was grinning; she was pursing her lips to keep from smiling too much. I know she enjoyed the story.
“Mr. Owen, there seem to be two forces at work here: the outside force and the inside force. I hold to the opinion that someone needs to be convinced from the inside to do the right thing; obviously you hold that outside forces be used to obtain the same results. We hold two different opinions on this matter.”
“Maybe we do,” I said. “However, if the inside forces work, that’s fine. It’s probably better, even. We tried to use the inside forces on Dr. Burke, when we showed him pictures of his wedding, his children. We tried to remind him that he had obligations. We didn’t force him to watch.”
“No, but you locked him in a little room.”
“It was a medium-sized room. But we felt we had to lock the door because we didn’t want anybody walking in, nor give him a chance to escape before seeing all we wanted him to see.”
Miss Planter gave me a dubious look.
“After all,” I continued, “we had to try to reason with him. And, I’m afraid all of our work didn’t really amount to much. He’s back to his old tricks; he hasn’t stopped seeing Susan Lovely. We’ve failed.” I looked down, and admitted, “I’ve failed.”
“Then, what are your next steps for Dr. Burke, Mr. Owen?”
“Do you want to know?”
Miss Planter hesitated.
“Do you really want to know?” I pushed.
Miss Planter broke. “Yes, I really want to know.”
“Then we’re back with the sessions. Deal?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Miss Planter smiled and said “Deal.”
“Now, was that an outside force or an inside force, Miss Planter?”
She smiled and replied, “Maybe a little of both.”
I laughed; Miss Planter laughed a little as well. I don’t think she really wanted our sessions to come to an end.
“So, tell me,” she said.
“Yes, I will. Here goes,” I said, trying to set the stage. “I really haven’t decided what to do just yet. Here we are; we’ve tried to reach his ‘inner man,’ through means not quite smiled upon by society, and yourself, but we wanted to move fast and have him come to a decision. Well, he’s decided. He’s decided to keep his girlfriend, at the risk of losing his family. He will lose his family, eventually, or greatly damage it, or them.”
“Do you think acting on the ‘outer’ man would change his mind?” asked Miss Planter.
I shrugged. “I think that’s all we have left. It’s not as though we could go and tell his parents. They had an influence on him when they were younger; they were his authority figures. But now his father is deceased, and his mother is suffering from Alzheimer’s in a nursing home.”
“And threatening to tell his children didn’t work,” said Miss Planter. “He may decide to tell them himself, soon.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I said. “I thought about that; by telling his children, he takes away any threat that we’ll do so.”
“How about changing the mind of Miss Lovely? Have you considered that?”
“We couldn’t get within a mile of Miss Lovely. She’s a billionaire now; well, soon she will be, and she’s protected by bodyguards. It might prove dangerous.”
“Well, why don’t you call her on the telephone and make an appointment to go and talk to her?”
“And have her tell Dr. Burke that we were the ones who locked him in a room and threatened to tell his children of their affair? No thanks. We prefer to remain anonymous.”
“Is there anyone above Miss Lovely? Is there any authority figure in her life?”
“I think her parents removed themselves from the scene years ago, to get away from Cornelius Lovely and his responsible lifestyle. It’s doubtful they’d care, and her only local relative, Mr. Lovely of course, has just passed away and left her with a fortune. Unless…” I thought to myself. “Of course!”
“Of course, what?”
“Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”
“Think of what?” she asked.
“Oh, you’ve been such a help to me today, Miss Planter! This is great!” I stood up to hug her, then in mid-lurch I stopped; she was a professional, and to touch her would diminish her authority. “Thank you, Miss Planter.” I did a half-bow, and turned to leave.
“You�
�re going now?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ve got to get to work!” I said, as I got near the back exit door.
“Can’t work do without you for a day?”
“I’m already behind; now I’m playing catch-up!”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what your intentions are?”
While opening the door to the back exit, I stopped and saw Miss Planter standing there, looking as though she was hurt and disappointed. I didn’t mean to hurt her.
“You’ll be the first person I tell. I promise.” And then I shut the door.
Exclusive Interview
Gregory Jouglard, man-about-town reporter for KDBC, had little trouble convincing the station manager the importance of doing an in-depth interview with Hal Ostrander, the current CEO and head of the board of directors for the Lovely Chocolate Company, for a segment of “KDBC Presents.” It was recorded at the factory, high on Lovely Hill, where Mr. Ostrander had agreed to speak one-on-one to the local media. Of course, Mr. Ostrander knew that any chance to promote the product was good business, and an interview was free publicity, worth millions if ratings were good. He wanted to give a good interview and asked one of his special assistants, Dr. Heinrich Von Bonhoffer, to join him. Dr. Bonhoffer was the physical opposite of Mr. Ostrander, a smaller, thinner, frail-looking man, probably around 55 years old, clean-shaven and with a shaved head, with rounded, slightly-tinted wire-framed eyeglasses, with a scar running from his right temple all the way down his face to the bottom of his jaw. Other than that, any noticeable defects couldn’t be seen. He dressed neatly, as did all professionals in the confectionery business, and would be silent until called upon.
Greg Jouglard: This interview is being recorded on Lovely Hill, on the grounds of the Lovely Chocolate Factory, in the office of CEO Hal Ostrander. Mr. Ostrander, thank you for agreeing to this interview.
Hal Ostrander: My pleasure, Mr. Jouglard.
Greg Jouglard: And with Mr. Ostrander is Dr. Heinrich Von Bonhoffer. Welcome, sir.
Dr. Bonhoffer: Thank you, Mr. Jouglard.
Greg Jouglard: Both of you, please call me Greg. Mr. Ostrander, now that the Lovely Chocolate Company seems to have gained stability, at least for the general public here in Lovely, can you tell us what the future holds?
The Lovely Chocolate Mob Page 16