Heat of the Moment

by Lori Herter

  And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear,

  And that was the last that I saw of my dear.

  Last night she came to me, my young love came in

  So softly she entered that her feet made no din.

  She came close beside me and this she did say,

  “It will not be long, love, till our wedding day.”

  Peter pulled up another site that had the same lyrics, with some minor differences…until the last verse. He stared numbly at the words. Last night she came to me, my dead love came in… It seemed his mother’s interpretation had been correct. The hairs on Peter’s neck prickled. He remembered the hush as the tenor finished singing at Maureen’s funeral. His hands grew icy, and he felt blood draining from his face. Peter experienced a more profound feeling of foreboding in his heart than ever before. What did it mean? What was going to happen?

  He sat in the dark, staring at the gray light from the screen. The sun had gone down, and, being engrossed with the lyrics, he hadn’t gotten up to turn on the lights. Maybe it was because he was alone in his dark house, but the notion that some danger still lurked, waiting to strike, seemed shockingly real. Except now he worried that maybe it was Josie who was endangered. My dead love…

  Suddenly, Peter was jarred out of his wits by the sound of his security alarm going off. He got up, parted the blinds and looked out the window—and saw someone running away from his front gate into the street. A dark-haired man, wearing sandals and white socks. The socks glowed in the light from the street lamp over his head. He heard a car door slam, and a small, white Fiat raced by.

  It was Al. There was no doubt in Peter’s mind. Why? What had he come here for? Peter realized that, like Josie earlier that day, Al still had Peter’s house key, but didn’t know the new security code and had set off the alarm.

  As Peter switched on the lights and hurried downstairs to turn off the alarm, he wondered. The house was dark. Wouldn’t Al have surmised that he’d gone to bed early or was working in the cottage lab? Had Al been planning to sneak into his home? If he’d been coming by to see Peter, he would have waited through the alarm, as Josie had, and not run off like a thief in the night.

  After punching in the right numbers, the alarm stopped. In the ensuing silence, a thought entered Peter’s mind, making him stand as still as a statue next to the alarm box. Had Al been the one who had sabotaged the test structure? He had the necessary knowledge and access. The police had asked a lot of questions about Al, but Peter had always assured them it couldn’t have been him. Still, Peter had always wondered why it had taken Al, who had been close by inside the lab, thirty minutes to discover Peter injured on the ground.

  Peter had told him he’d be back in five minutes, that he was just going out to check the structure. After he’d fallen, he’d called for help with all the strength he had left. He’d thought Al should have been able to hear him from inside the building—everyone had gone home from work and the place was quiet. But Al had always claimed he’d heard nothing. When Al had finally come outside to look for him, he hadn’t seemed particularly upset at seeing Peter lying on the ground, broken and bleeding from compound fractures. In fact, Peter had later complimented Al on how well he’d kept his cool in the emergency.

  Peter sat down on a leather chair feeling demolished and demoralized. Al may indeed have been responsible for his fall. Maybe Al had even hoped to kill him. Why? Out of jealousy?

  Peter recalled that Al had once confided that there was mental illness in his family. Perhaps Al had inherited some type of mental condition and was getting no treatment. What should Peter do now? Call the police?

  He’d been wrong about people so often, he hated to take that step. He wanted to find out from Al first what he had done and why, just to be sure. Al was his oldest friend, and Peter wanted to be fair with him.

  DAMN! Al cussed with every four-letter word he knew as he drove his Fiat back to his place. Why had the alarm gone off? He’d punched in the right numbers at the gate. Unless Peter had changed his code. Damn him! Why did Peter always have to mess up his plans? Why couldn’t he just keep it simple and die? Sabotaging the structure hadn’t killed him, and now Al couldn’t even sneak into Peter’s house and find a way to push the cripple down his staircase.

  With Peter dead, it would be so much easier to take over Frameworks Systems. Earthwaves was no longer viable, so Al had no reason anymore to bother with Lansdowne’s offer. Frameworks was his ticket to success, to becoming a multimillionaire—if he could just get rid of Peter!

  With Peter eliminated, the investors wouldn’t keep on asking where he was and if he was coming back to work. Gary Lindsey was driving Al up a wall, constantly influencing the others to wait for Peter before taking any important votes at the company board meetings.

  The earthquake had been such a big break. Al had managed to get the structure fitted with the new composite formula ahead of schedule. Josie’s suggestions had done the trick. Now he had to act fast, try to figure out how to charm the investors the way Peter could. He had to convince them to join with him and vote Peter out.

  Al decided to quietly call a meeting for tomorrow night. Frameworks was on the verge of making millions. It shouldn’t be difficult to make the investors see that Peter was incapacitated, and slowing them down just when they needed to act fast and get their product on the market.

  Old buddy Pete would be out of the company before he knew what happened. If he caused trouble, Al would just have to find some other way to take him out. Permanently.

  ALONE AT HER CONDO, Josie thought back on all that had happened that day. Going to Peter’s place to get her clothes. Setting off the alarm because he’d changed the code to keep her out. Telling him she no longer loved him after he’d so tenderly bandaged her cut hand.

  She looked at the bandage below her thumb and wondered if he might actually still have some feelings for her, even if he did think she was a spy. Why had he asked her if she loved him? Why would he care? Should she have told him she didn’t? She’d been angry and had meant it when she said it, but it wasn’t true. She was still in love with him. The most beautiful time in her whole life had been the month they’d worked together, been in the spa together…made love….

  Josie shook away the memories. What good would they do her? It was over. Except that she hated that Peter thought ill of her. He may have lied about being an invalid, but she supposed he had his reasons. Someone had tried to kill him. Maybe not Martin, as she had once thought, but someone…. Josie kept wondering about Al. Maybe Peter shouldn’t place so much trust in his partner.

  Well, it was no longer her place to worry about that. She didn’t work for Peter anymore. How ironic and absurd that Martin had wanted her to come back and work for him! Apparently Martin had thought anyone could be bought.

  All at once an idea came to her. If Peter knew she’d refused Martin’s offer to double her salary if she’d disclose Frameworks’ secret method, would that convince Peter she wasn’t a spy? She even had a witness, Ronnie, who could testify to the truth. She had no hope that her brief relationship with Peter could ever be rekindled—too much had happened; the fragile thing between them had been broken—but she would like to clear her name. Tomorrow she would go and see Peter one last time.

  10

  THE NEXT MORNING, Peter was pacing his kitchen floor after breakfast, wondering what to do. Should he phone Al? Go down to the plant and see him? After last night it didn’t seem wise to have Al come to his home.

  The phone rang.

  “Peter? It’s Gary.”

  “You sound worried.” Peter’s stomach tightened at the tone in Gary’s voice. “What’s up?”

  “Just had a call from Al. Did you know he was contacting all the investors?”

  “No.”

  Gary paused. “I was afraid of that. I’ve had a bad feeling. According to Al, you haven’t been able to work since your accident. Maybe Al is keeping you out of the loop?”

  “Fu
nny you should say that,” Peter replied in a dour tone. “So why did Al phone?”

  “He’s calling a meeting of the investors this afternoon at four o’clock. I wanted to make sure you knew. Al said he was keeping you informed, but claimed you wouldn’t be able to come to the meeting. If he’s not keeping you informed, then this meeting is illegal.”

  Peter slowly nodded his head. Maybe Al was planning to align the other investors with him and vote Peter out. “Thanks, Gary. Al is in for a surprise.”

  At three-thirty, Peter left his house and drove himself to the Frameworks plant. He decided not to park in the plant’s lot, but parked in a lot adjacent to the building next door. There he could keep an eye on who was coming in and out of Frameworks. He wanted all the investors to be there when he walked in.

  From his car, he noticed that all the employees were leaving, as if Al had told them to take the rest of the day off. As Amy, Tim and the others drove out of the lot, one by one, the company’s half-dozen investors arrived one by one. Gary was the first to arrive, wearing a business suit, nervously running his hand through his blond hair. The other investors were businesspeople of varying ages, some retired, some still active.

  When the last one had arrived, Peter waited ten minutes, then got out of his car and quietly entered the plant by a side door. He heard voices coming from Al’s office, and he edged down the hall, listening.

  “The reason you’re all here,” Al was saying, “is that our retrofit method is proven, thanks to the earthquake, and we’re ready to begin making bucks. Sorry to say, but we have one issue slowing us up. Peter has been an invalid since his accident. I’ve been running the show the last six months. Peter did a good job helping to create Frameworks Systems, but it’s time to move on. As you know, he owns thirty percent of the company, and I own thirty percent. The rest of you combined own forty percent. If you vote with me, we’ll have a majority, and we can do what needs to be done—buy Peter out and wish him well. Any questions?”

  “What’s Peter’s prognosis?” It was Gary’s voice. “Will he ever be able to walk again?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Al said.

  “Afraid so!” Peter proclaimed as he walked into the room.

  Everyone looked amazed. Gary smiled while Al’s face fell into a disdainful gape.

  “Reports of my condition have been exaggerated,” Peter went on. “I have recovered, as you see.” He glanced at Al. “I think my partner and I need to talk. This meeting is premature. And illegal, since I wasn’t formally notified of it, as the rest of you were.”

  Gary nodded while the rest seemed taken aback and murmured their shock and disapproval. They began to look at Al.

  Al tried to cover with a bold front. “I left a message for Peter!”

  “Maybe I just never got it,” Peter said smoothly. “In any case, this meeting needs to be postponed.”

  “I think so, too,” Gary agreed. “Great to see you looking so well, Peter!”

  “Glad you’re back,” someone else said, and soon they were all congratulating him on his recovery.

  One by one they left, most asking to be kept informed.

  As he was about to walk out of Al’s office, Gary quietly asked Peter, “Will you be okay here? Alone?” He glanced at Al.

  “Sure.” Peter was taller and, though still recovering, he was more fit than Al, who hated exercise. He had no fear of being left alone with his former friend. “I’ll talk to you later,” he told Gary.

  When the investors had all left, Peter turned to his partner. “You have any explanation for calling a meeting without informing me?”

  “Didn’t you get my message?” Al said.

  Peter could tell he was covering while his quick mind was working. He knew he had to keep one step ahead of Al, which wasn’t easy. “You know as well as I do that you never left me any message. I was home all day to answer the phone.”

  “Must have been a slipup.” Al had moved behind his desk.

  “I heard what you told them. Why were you trying to vote me out?”

  “Because I thought you couldn’t walk!” Al’s tone grew snide. “Nice of you to let me know.”

  “What were you doing at my house last night?”

  Al’s eyes widened slightly, but he kept his face impassive. “What do you mean?”

  “Someone set off my alarm. He drove a white Fiat—looked an awful lot like yours.”

  “Maybe I was trying to inform you of the meeting,” Al said sarcastically as he pulled open a desk drawer.

  “Tell me the truth, Al. Did you sabotage our test structure? Did you want me to fall?”

  All at once, Al pulled out a revolver from the drawer. He pointed it at Peter and smiled. “Didn’t know I had this, did you? Bought it because of the gang that used to hang around here at night.”

  Peter took a step backward. “Put that down, Al.”

  “Can’t oblige you, Pete. You’re like a cat with nine lives. But this time you won’t be so lucky.”

  “You want to kill me? We’ve been friends for years.”

  Al nodded. “Yeah, until you stole Cory. And then you got pretty full of yourself here at the plant, taking all the credit, running the show, using my brainpower to make yourself shine. You aren’t a friend. You take me for granted, don’t give me equal status.”

  “Cory is irrelevant, Al. We formed this company together, you and I. You were an equal from the beginning.”

  “Until you started taking all the limelight. The employees and investors always looked to you, not me. The last several years, you’ve played the superhero while I’ve been the loser in the lab—who, by the way, created the product that will rake in millions! I did all the work, while you were chasing chicks! Why should I share the fruits of my genius with you?”

  “Frameworks Systems needed employees and investors to be successful. I was a little better at handling that end of it. Why be jealous, Al? We’ve needed each other to make it work.”

  “Not anymore.” Al aimed the gun at Peter’s head.

  “Why kill me? You can’t get away with it!”

  “You think I can’t outsmart the police?”

  “You didn’t outsmart me,” Peter said. “I’m here, disrupting your plans.”

  “Another reason to take you out.”

  “When my body is discovered, the investors will suspect you.”

  “That’s why you’re coming with me. We’ll drive to the desert. No one will ever find—”

  “What’s going on?”

  Peter turned at the high voice and saw Josie standing in the doorway. “Josie!” he exclaimed, frightened for her safety. “Get out!”

  But she didn’t move. She stared at Al, at the revolver.

  “Stay right there,” Al told her. He seemed rattled, not sure where to point the gun.

  Peter began to edge away from Josie, hoping Al would keep the weapon pointed at him, not her. “Now you’ve got a witness. You can’t get away with this. Put down the gun.”

  “Killing two isn’t much different than killing one. Stay put!” Al aimed the gun at Josie, who was edging in the opposite direction around his desk. “You, too!” he exclaimed as he turned the gun back on Peter. Peter was continuing to move toward the other end of the desk.

  Meanwhile Josie took hold of her shoulder bag by the strap. Al saw what she was doing and turned the gun back toward her. Before he could complete his turn, she threw the bag at him. The revolver went off as Al dodged the bag, the bullet going into the woodwork of the door frame.

  Peter threw himself on Al and brought him to the floor, holding on to his wrist to get the gun.

  “Peter!” Josie screamed. “Be careful!”

  Peter sensed her rushing toward them as he struggled with Al for the weapon. “Stay back!” he yelled at Josie.

  But she paid no attention and reached for a paperweight on Al’s desk.

  At that moment Al made a supreme effort to fight Peter for the gun. The revolver fired before Peter could gain con
trol. Being bigger and stronger, Peter was able to wrest the weapon from Al’s hand. He got up and held the gun on his partner. To immobilize him, Peter kicked him in the groin. Al doubled up in pain. On the desk, Peter spotted a roll of duct tape. Quickly, while Al was still incapacitated, Peter set the gun on the desk and pushed Al onto his stomach. He taped his hands together behind his back, then worked on his ankles. Sweating from exertion and panic, Peter stood up, feeling that he and Josie were finally safe. Al was tied up. Peter had control of the gun.

  “Call 911!” he told Josie as he kept an eye on Al, who was struggling in vain to get free.

  There was no reply. Peter turned to look for Josie. He didn’t see her at first, not until he looked at the floor. She was lying facedown on the carpet, the clip holding her hair undone, with blood running from the side of her head.

  “Josie!” Peter yelled. “No—!”

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON Josie was sitting up in her hospital bed, the side of her forehead bandaged, waiting for word from the doctor that she could go home. She’d awakened in the ambulance yesterday, her head throbbing. As soon as she realized what had happened, she asked the paramedic attending her if Peter was okay. Assured that he was, and that Al had been subdued, she relaxed. After getting X rays and having stitches put in where the bullet had grazed her skull, police had questioned her about what she’d seen and how she was injured. She’d spent the night in the hospital for observation, and Ronnie had come by this morning to see her. She’d offered to drive Josie home whenever she was released.

  Josie’s head still ached. The pain medication had made her groggy. Bandaged, with a bruise on her cheek from when she’d hit the floor, she wished she could just go home and be by herself.

  She looked up hopefully as a man entered her room. But it wasn’t the doctor. It was Peter, carrying flowers.

  He smiled at her hesitantly, eyeing her injuries. “How are you?”

  “Pretty good. Glad the bullet wasn’t a half inch to the left, or…”

  A harrowed look passed over his face. “I was petrified when I saw you walk in. Why were you there?”

  “I’d gone to your house and no one answered. I noticed your garage door was open and your car wasn’t there. So I thought maybe you’d driven to the plant.”