Double Trouble

by Scott Wittenburg

  He was lying and Amanda knew it. Why wouldn’t he tell her the truth? Unless he was afraid it might make him look guilty.

  “When was the last time you asked her to take you back, Nick?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “It’s important. Was it a long time ago or recently?”

  “What would you consider ‘recently?’”

  “Like in the last few weeks, say.”

  He knew what she was driving at now—it clearly showed in his face. And he was not happy about it. He was going over it in his mind, wondering what she had found out and how much she really knew. He in fact looked like the cat who had swallowed the canary.

  “What is this bullshit, Mandy? What difference does it make?”

  “It makes a lot of difference if it had been only a day or two before she was murdered.”

  “Fucking shit! Tell me why you are asking me this. Right now! No more fucking beating around the bush!”

  Amanda wasn’t sure if she should divulge anymore than she already had. She should ask her uncle beforehand—or at least Alan. She decided to take the plunge anyway.

  “We found the emails you and Jodi exchanged two days before she was murdered.”

  Now she had really let the cat out of the bag.

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  “Fuck.”

  Suddenly Nick fell silent. He realized how damaging those emails would be in court and that a jury would see them as a possible motive for murder. Amanda could almost see his wheels turning.

  “Well that’s it. I’m fucked for sure now. I was drunk as a skunk the night I wrote those emails to Jodi—feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t mean what I said, but you can bet nobody will ever believe that. I’m totally screwed, but good.”

  “No, Nick—you mustn’t think that way. If you didn’t do it, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “We know that’s not true. Jesus, I really wish you wouldn’t have come here, Mandy.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it’s going to make it harder to do what I need to do.”

  “And what is that?”

  “End it.”

  “What do you mean? End what?”

  “All of this. I’m checking out, Amanda. There’s nothing worth living for.”

  “You are not going to kill yourself!” she cried. “That won’t solve anything!”

  “Wrong. It will solve everything.”

  “Nick, please listen to me. Killing yourself will only make everybody think you are guilty. Don’t you see that? And all you will have done is destroyed your life in the process. And what about those who love you—your parents, friends. It’s not fair to take the selfish way out of this.”

  “That’s all very comforting but it doesn’t change a thing. I’ll level with you, Mandy. I left town on a mission and I intend to complete that mission. And that mission is to kill myself. Not you or anybody else on this planet is going to stop me. So please do me a favor and leave. Leave now—go back to Milldale.”

  “I am not going to leave. I won’t let you do this, Nick.”

  “Oh yes you will.”

  He drew a pistol out from his back pocket and pointed it at Amanda’s face.

  “What are you doing, Nick!” she cried.

  “Leave, Mandy. Or I swear to God I’ll use this.”

  He smiled oddly, then placed the end of the barrel to his temple and cocked the trigger.

  “Leave now or I pull the trigger.”

  “Nick, please! Let’s talk about it.”

  “Nothing more to talk about. All I thought about while driving back here was how nice it will be to put an end to all of this shit. You know what’s really funny? I realized that I wanted to be clean when they found me. So I took the liberty of taking one final shower before following through with my plan. But then you had to come along and interrupt my game plan. I wish you wouldn’t have done that, Mandy. But what’s done is done. And now all I want you to do is respect my final wishes and let me go in peace. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get to see Jodi again.”

  “This is crazy, Nick! Just give me one minute and then I’ll leave you. Fair enough?”

  “Whatever. Go ahead, I’m counting it down.”

  “Jodi loved you, Nick. I know that for a fact. And no matter what went down, she never really ruled out you two getting back together.”

  “Right—and I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “Yes, you are. I talked to her friends and they all said the same thing. That she never really got over you. That she never quit talking about you and how she wanted your baby. It’s true, Nick! Everybody thinks she was just too stubborn for her own good. And you know how stubborn Jodi could be. Time may have changed all of that.”

  “I would love to believe this, but I don’t. You’re just making all this up to save my ass.”

  “Absolutely not! You have known me since we were just little kids, Nick. Have you ever known me to lie about something like this?”

  “Well, no. But if you’re desperate enough—”

  “This is not desperation—it’s the god’s honest truth! And for you to destroy yourself would be a slap in the face to Jodi. Put yourself in her place, Nick. Would you ever want Jodi to kill herself over you?”

  “No, of course not. But I am not about to spend the rest of my life in prison for something I didn’t do!”

  “So we won’t let that happen. We will go back to Milldale and work together to see that you are exonerated. That’s what Jodi would want you to do. To be strong. To win this thing!”

  “No way I’m going back to Milldale, I can tell you that.”

  Amanda suddenly thought there might be some hope. This was a start.

  “The only way we can win this fight is for you to do what an innocent man would do. And that would include your coming back to Milldale to continue fighting. We can do it, Nick. I’ll admit that until a minute ago I was having my doubts about your innocence. But as soon as you said you didn’t want to go to prison for something you didn’t do, those doubts went away. It was the first time I’ve seen you show some fight through all of this—to show that you really want to see that you are vindicated of this crime you didn’t commit. It made me proud.”

  He paused a moment before speaking.

  “I guess I did get a little defensive there,” he smiled.

  “You sure as hell did, Bucko! And that’s what you got to keep on doing. Don’t let these fuckers win, Nick—you need to show them that they’ve got the wrong guy. What do you say?”

  He slowly lowered the gun and laid it on the table.

  “Okay, you win. You always have had a way with words, Mandy. Like that time you talked me out of stealing Timmy Grant’s football. I wanted that thing so bad—a brand new Wilson just lying there out in front of his house. Like he didn’t even care about it or he wouldn’t have left it there. But you told me not to take it—to pick it up and throw it back into his yard instead so it wouldn’t get stolen by somebody else. You remember that?”

  Amanda smiled at the memory. “I do. And I knew how hard it was for you to pitch it into his yard once you had it in your grubby little hand! I remember that you had hinted to your dad that you wanted a new football for your birthday but he didn’t get one for you. You felt so let down by that, which wasn’t making this any easier. So I gave you the old Golden Rule spiel since nothing else was working. And at last, you gave in. I know how hard that was to do and I was so proud of you for doing the right thing.”

  “That’s just one of the many memories I have of our childhood. Those were such awesome, carefree days, weren’t they? Not a care in the world. You want to hear something funny?”

  “What?”

  “I loved you back then. I mean, not just as a friend—but as a girlfriend. You don’t know how excited I used to get whenever we touched, and that one time you kissed me on the cheek. I know I acted like I hated it but that was just a big put-on. I was
ecstatic that day!”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Amanda said.

  “I was afraid to—afraid you’d laugh at me. Or worse yet, turn me down. Even back then I had some insecurities, I guess. Anyway, as time went on I realized that we could never be boyfriend and girlfriend—it would never seem right because we were such good friends—you know what I mean?”

  Amanda nodded. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, Nick. I feel honored that you felt that way.”

  “Just thought I’d let you know,” he replied. “Thanks, Mandy.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving my life. For being the best friend anyone could ever have.”

  “And I want to keep it that way. Once this is all worked out, let’s stay in touch, okay?”

  “Definitely.”

  “You ready to go back now?”

  “Yeah. Back to reality.”

  CHAPTER 19

  They had finally gotten their first break in the Wilburn case—or at least something of a break. When Amanda had called to say that she had found Nick at his Richmond home, Alan had been incredibly relieved. Disaster averted.

  And then she’d told him what else had happened, how Nick had almost blown his brains out and had it not been for her coaxing him out of it, this whole case would have been over by default. Not only had she managed to persuade him not to do it, but Amanda had gone an extra step and convinced Nick to return to Milldale to continue the fight for his life.

  Back in the saddle again.

  Alan had praised Amanda for her excellent handling of Nick in Richmond and the whole case in general. She had proven herself to be a formidable figure when faced with adversity. She had of course been humble after his compliments and even apologized again for disobeying him earlier by pursuing the sheriff. The girl was not one to rest on her laurels.

  Amanda had done something he could never have done. She had managed to use her perceptive attributes and gift of gab to stop a man from ending his own life. No small feat by any standards. Had Amanda not been there, Nick Wilburn would be a dead man now.

  Alan’s thoughts shifted to the present as he continued the short drive to Buster’s. The bar was located just off Route 161, only minutes from his home in Clintonville. He’d never seen it before and discovered that it was located off the beaten path in a tiny strip mall that also had a Chinese restaurant, a Swan cleaners and a Jiffy Lube.

  He pulled in the parking lot and looked at the time. It was 9:45. In fifteen minutes he would be meeting a group of sexual deviants—men who got their rocks off by raping children. The mere reality of it was revolting and he knew that no matter how it all went down, it was going to be a rocky road.

  He instinctively felt for his phone in the inside breast pocket of his light jacket before getting out of the Pilot. He headed for the door of the club, his heart beating like a jackhammer.

  He stepped inside and with a glance saw that the place was clean and well maintained. The three or four people seated nearby were well dressed and in fact looked as though they had just come from their office jobs. A long bar took up much of the center of the area and extended twenty feet or so toward the rear. There was a lone bartender serving the few patrons seated at the bar—a middle aged man and a couple of women in their late thirties.

  Alan ordered a Yeungling lager and moved down the bar a couple of seats where he would have an unobstructed view of the rear area. Taking a sip of beer, he glanced at the pool table, searching for a man wearing a Columbus Clippers jersey. All he saw was a couple playing pool.

  He noticed a pair of men pass by across the other side of the bar and spotted the Clippers jersey. Lucky number ten; that would be Bobbi, presumably arriving with one of the others from the chat room.

  Alan looked on as they sat down at a table near the pool table. Bobbi looked to be in his mid-fifties with shortly cropped salt and pepper hair and a large paunch. Along with the jersey he wore a Clipper’s ball cap that made him look even more idiotic. There was something about the man’s physicality that conflicted with his sports attire. Maybe it was the beer gut and double chin.

  The other man was a CEO type. He wore a light blue button down shirt, a tie and dress pants. He too was probably in his mid-fifties or a little older. The pair looked odd seated there together—sort of like Oscar and Felix from the Odd Couple.

  Moments later another man joined them. Alan assumed that this was Zorro although he couldn’t be certain. The chat room handle seemed to fit him, though.

  The stage was set; his welcoming party of three was in place. Alan carefully scanned the area, looking for a possible fourth party who might be keeping a watchful eye on things. If this were a sting, there would most likely be an undercover cop nearby observing the proceedings, waiting for a cue to jump into action.

  And if this wasn’t a sting, there could be a fourth party nearby working for the source of the exploited children. Perhaps the chat room members had already told their supplier of a potential new client they had been in communication with. The source may want to take a good look at this newbie—to see if he looked suspicious and might actually be a plant set up by the authorities.

  There wasn’t a single person sitting or standing in the proximity of the chat room table period, except for the man and woman playing pool. They were already pretty drunk and seemed oblivious to everything but their game. Alan made one more scan of the entire place and saw nothing suspicious. Everyone appeared to be minding his or her own business.

  He removed his iPhone from his breast pocket, pretended to check for something like an incoming call alert on the screen and snapped a couple of quick shots of the chat room buddies. He replaced the phone in his pocket while keeping a careful eye on the group to make sure he wasn’t noticed. Then he picked up his beer and took a swig before speaking.

  “Let’s do it,” he whispered into the Bluetooth device concealed in his eyeglasses.

  “On my way,” he heard through the tiny hole in the eyeglass frame near his left temple.

  This was only the second time Alan had used the custom designed eyeglasses. They had cost him a bundle but were worth their weight in gold in situations like this. They looked like ordinary glasses with lenses tinted just enough that his eyes were imperceptible in the dark bar. Embedded in the bridge was a tiny microphone. As long as he spoke in a whisper and shielded his mouth, nobody could tell he was speaking except for the person at the other end of the wireless signal. That person was Doug Salyers, Alan’s stand-in for Padwinkle.

  “I’m in,” Doug announced.

  “They’re back by the pool table, as planned,” Alan whispered.

  Alan saw Doug’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar as he passed by. A moment later he heard Doug’s voice again at a normal speaking volume.

  “You by any chance Bobbi?”

  “I am. And you must be Padwinkle. A pleasure to meet you.”

  Alan glanced over and saw the man in the Clippers jersey shake Doug’s hand. He had an accent that he could almost swear was Russian.

  “This is Marco,” Bobbi said, and the CEO-looking guy also shook his hand. “And this is Zorro.”

  The younger man gestured toward the empty chair. “Have a seat, Paddy.”

  Doug sat down across the table from Bobbi.

  “Seems like a nice place,” Doug commented.

  Bobbi replied, “One of C-bus’s best kept secrets. I’ve been coming here for years and never seen a fight or a warm beer. Good sandwiches, too.”

  Alan had briefed Doug on the situation and forewarned him that he would be prompting him as little as possible to avoid drawing suspicion. Not only did Doug have an excellent memory, he was an experienced actor who could take on the identity of virtually anybody convincingly. Like Alan, he wore a pair of eyeglasses capable of receiving and transmitting. Both pairs of glasses were individually powered and paired via Bluetooth through an app on their respective cellphones.

  “Speaking of beer, what will
you have?” Marco said.

  “A Sam Adams,” Doug replied.

  Marco called over a nearby server and ordered everybody drinks.

  “So Paddy, what do you think of our fair city now that you’re all settled in?”

  Bobbi asked.

  “I really like it. I came from a small town in Wisconsin so it’s a bit more exciting than what I’m used to.”

  “Most people who come here end up liking it,” Zorro said. “Visitors seems to think that Ohio State football is all we’re about until they’ve taken in the art, culture and other wonderful offerings. Then they realize that there’s a lot more here than just Buckeyes.”

  “I was a Badger and came to a couple of games at the Horseshoe. The fan base here is unreal.”

  “I don’t think there’s an NCAA team with a greater following anywhere in the country.”

  “I’m going to cut to the chase, Paddy,” Bobbi said, his voice dropping considerably. “There are a few things I need to know before we start discussing specifics. You cool with that?”

  “Sure,” Doug replied.

  “Good. There are two issues of utmost importance that must be considered before we go any further with this. One is discretion and the other is money. I’ll level with you—I work for somebody who is very particular who he deals with. He relies on me to ascertain whether or not a potential client is trustworthy and able to come up with the fees for services. Marco, Zorro and Gumbo are established clients who have gained trust with my boss. It is our hope that you too will be worthy of that status.

  “I must warn you up front what you’re getting yourself into, Paddy. If my boss ever finds out that you have contacted anybody regarding our services—and I mean even your best friends—you will be tracked down and let’s say, in serious trouble. That clear?”

  There was a brief pause.

  “Of course,” Alan said, prompting Doug.

  “Of course,” Doug echoed.

  Alan knew that the gravity of Bobbi’s threat had thrown Doug off for a moment. It wasn’t every day somebody threatens to hunt you down and murder you for being a rat.