Consigning Fate: Beginnings Series Book 23

by Jacqueline Druga

  Frank jumped up. “Hal!”

  “Frank! Ha. Ha. Ha.” Hal shook his head. “Next time you want to hide behind the bar in some sort of genius master plan. Take a moment to realize there is a mirror.” Hal pointed.

  Frank looked at the mirror that hung behind the bar, tilted downward. “So.”

  “So I saw you asshole.” Hal said. “And you were watching me in the mirror. I made eye contact with you twice.”

  “Oh, I thought that was my imagination.”

  “No.” Hal shook his head. “And you, Dean, I’m surprised they pulled you in.”

  “You have to admit,” Dean said. “Frank using Fort’s clone story was brilliant.”

  Hal slowed down in his response. “Yeah.” His eyes sifted. Dean didn’t know for sure about the clone. Frank hadn’t implemented his plan yet. “That was a shocker. Perhaps Frank will talk to you more about it.”

  Frank nodded. “I will. Him and I are working on something first. I should have never hid behind the bar. But I wanted to see your face. Man …” Frank exhaled. “I should have worn an Iffy suit.”

  The glass dropped from Robbie’s hand mid laugh and he looked at Frank. “What did you just say?”

  “I said I should have worn an Iffy suit. Was that wrong?”

  “No, big brother. Not at all.” Without picking up his glass, just as he blurted out an ‘excuse me’, Robbie raced from the Social Hall.

  “What was that all about?” Hal asked.

  Frank shrugged. “Probably thought of a practical joke using the suits. But I have them hidden.” Frank winked. “Man, I smell like booze. I have to go shower before I hit the Killer Toddler region. I need them to catch my scent, or they’ll eat me alive. Thanks for the help, Dean.”

  Hal sat down when Frank left, and drew up a pleased look as he sipped the remainder of his drink.

  Dean crinkled his brow. “What’s the look for.”

  “Stupid practical joke. Me the butt of it. Doesn’t matter. Little by little…” Hal grinned. “The old Frank is coming back.”

  Dean smiled. A smile that matched Hal’s and he lifted a glass to Hal’s with a clink. “Thank God.”

  <><><><>

  Pretty much anyone would have guessed it. Blake, the soap opera god, knew his line dancing. He gave instructions first; three dances and the instructions took two hours. The dance floor was packed with people wearing the newest sensation, Sassy Ben’s jeans.

  A few didn’t, like Ellen. But she like many stayed on the dance floor most of the evening.

  Elliott watched. He and two other UWA solders were in charge of keeping things tight at the Hoi-Hoi on the Range. After all, it was the biggest night they had ever had. Mainly his focus was on Ellen and how she and George were nearly inseparable.

  ‘For appearance sake’ really was working, because everyone talked to George.

  Elliott saw him differently. He saw him perhaps the way Beginnings saw him before all hell broke loose and the country divided.

  A man of the people who got out there and had fun.

  Plus, George Hadley could line dance with the best of them.

  “Jealous?” Hal asked as he walked in.

  Elliott cased him. “Of those chaps you’re wearing? No.”

  “Funny. Ben grabbed me.”

  “He grabbed you, Captain?’

  “Mind out of the gutter, Elliott. He saw me outside and asked why I wasn’t wearing them. He made them for me. So I decided to wear them.”

  “Spiffy.”

  “Spiffy?” Hal asked. “Did you just refer to something I am wearing as spiffy?”

  “I did.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Although I expected them to be assless. According to Frank.”

  “Frank is an ass … hole. But you didn’t answer. Are you jealous?”

  “Of?”

  “Ellen and George?”

  “No. Are you. She was supposed to be your date.”

  “Good God, Elliott, do I look like the line dancer? No,” Hal said.

  “I may not be jealous. You may not be. But she …” Elliott pointed toward the jukebox.

  Hal smiled. “Margaret does appear to be quite green.”

  “Quite.”

  “I heard she slapped him in Frank’s office.”

  Elliott nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said she looked beautiful.”

  “There you have it, Elliott. They always said women don’t like to be treated well.”

  “Who!” Andrea said loudly in Hal’s ear, trying and succeeding to be heard over the music. “Who said that!”

  Elliott snickered.

  Hal closed off his ear to stop the ringing. “I was joking.”

  “Oh. Because we enjoy being treated well,” Andrea said. “Oh, Hal, you look so handsome in those cowboy pants.”

  Elliott corrected. “Chaps.”

  “Really?” Andrea asked. “Is that what they’re called? Chaps? Like an English person.”

  “Really.” Hal smiled.

  “So what are you boys discussing that you feel the need to talk about how women want to be treated.”

  “Nothing.” Hal shook his Fetuses head.

  “Actually …” Elliott said. “We were discussing how jealous Margaret looks.”

  Hal turned sharp to Elliott. “Why would you say that?”

  “I didn’t want to lie.”

  Andrea peered around Elliott. “She does. Hmm. Well, no sympathy here.” Just as she sighed, Andrea laughed.

  “What?” Hal asked, bringing his drink to his lips.

  “Just looking at Joe out there trying to mess everyone up with their dancing.”

  Hal coughed and choked on his drink. “Joe, as in my father?”

  Andrea nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Andrea, I’m not seeing him.”

  “You wouldn’t.” She smiled. “I do. He’s being funny. I should go tell him to stop being bad.” She took a step.

  Hal reached out and stopped her. “Maybe … Maybe you should hang with us.”

  “No I …” Andrea got a glimmer in her eye. “I think I will.”

  “Huh?” Hal asked confused.

  The answer to his confusion arrived in the form of Margaret.

  Hal leaned into Elliott, whispering. “Why am I getting the feeling that this isn’t good?”

  Elliott only shrugged.

  Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Look a little dejected Margaret.”

  Margaret only poured a drink.

  “I certainly hope this nasty Nelly attitude doesn’t have anything to do with Ellen and George having a good time over there.”

  Margaret slammed her drink down. “And if it does?”

  “You shouldn’t be.” Andrea stated. “Your gloomy ways shouldn’t be a damper on everyone’s good time. Live by the sword, die by the sword. If you’re gonna to play with the genitals of a taken man, prepare for his woman to play with your mans’ genitals.”

  Hal choked and coughed again. “Andrea, Good God.”

  Andrea lifted her hands palms up.

  Margaret said, “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

  “No, not really just making an observation.”

  “And that is?” Margaret asked.

  “Margaret, did you or did you not carry Dean’s child. Did you not sleep in his bed and flaunt your relationship. Clearly you didn’t think Ellen wouldn’t jump on the George train as a payback. You can’t get mad.”

  “The hell I can’t. I helped Dean out. I wasn’t with him.”

  “But you don’t want George,” Andrea said. “You struck him in the midst of a glowing compliment.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  Andrea pointed to Elliott.

  Elliott turned around.

  “For your information,” Margaret stepped forward. “I’m not mad at Ellen. I’m mad at George and all the other women who seem to be throwing themselves at him.”

  “Margaret. You threw yourself
around the men of Beginnings.”

  “I did not.”

  “Did too! You wanted Joe!” Andrea shouted.

  “I did not. And I refuse to stand here and argue with a menopausal, demented, and whacko woman.”

  Andrea gasped, “I may be menopausal, I may be demented, and wacko, but at least I’m not a slut.”

  “Slut?”

  “Slut.”

  A short shriek of anger preceded Margaret lunging at Andrea. Within seconds the two women transcended into a hair pulling, slap happy, yank each other frenzy.

  Elliott jumped to his feet. “Captain. Help me break this up.”

  Hal looked at the twisted women, entangling in a brawl. “In a sec.”

  “Captain.’

  “God, Elliott.” Hal downed his drink. “Can’t a man have any pleasures?” He turned around. “Ladies enough,” He reached for them. “Ladies.”

  “Perhaps Captain, you should get a bit more forceful.”

  “Arms extended in between the two women, Hal said, “They’re ladies Elliot, you expect me to say grab one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ridiculous, They’re women this can be settled.” Hal spoke to them again rationally. “Ladies if we can only …”

  A wayward hand careened out sounding off with a loud crack against Hal’s cheek. Immediately his attitude changed. Stern and irritated, he ordered out to Elliott. “Arrest them.”

  <><><><>

  “You arrested our mother?” Jimmy asked, stopping Hal as he stepped from the small jail in Bowman.

  “I did.” Hal pulled the door closed.

  “You can’t arrest our mother, Hal. You have to let her out.”

  Hal nodded, smiled, and then said, “No.”

  “Is she crying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God.” Jimmy covered his eyes. “Look …”

  “No, you look, Jimmy. Go back. Have a good time line dancing. Let this alone.”

  “Is it because someone gave you a black eye?”

  “No!” Hal barked. “It’s because these two women fought. Period. Fist fought.”

  “But Andrea …”

  “Started it,” Hal stated. “Period. She sits.” Hal walked.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m wearing chaps, Jimmy; I’m going back to the good time.”

  “And just leave her in there, alone, crying.”

  “Margaret is in there.”

  “Oh, great.”

  “Separate cells.” Hal continued to walk.

  “Hal!” Jimmy shouted. “This is wrong! Our father would have ….” He stopped.

  Hal turned around. “Continue. Our father would have what?”

  After a pause, Jimmy replied. “Would have let them sit in there.”

  “Exactly.”

  “OK. I understand.” Jimmy trotted to catch Hal.

  “Thank you.”

  Jimmy nudged Hal. “You really look good in them chaps.”

  After a playful smack to Jimmy’s head, the brothers headed to Hoi-Hoi on the Range.

  <><><><>

  Where was it? Where was it?

  Robbie knew it was there. How stupid could he be to have just missed it?

  It took for Frank to say, “I should have worn an Iffy suit.” And something clicked.

  Iffy.

  He flew back to his office and grabbed the interview with Darrell.

  Darrell used the word ‘iffy’.

  How easily Robbie dismissed it. He was thinking ‘Dean’, not the clone. Or was he?

  “Joe told him it was an iffy situation. Dean looked dejected and stood up.”

  “That simple.”

  “Yeah, it was weird. He turned to the door, and then he stepped to the file cabinet before he left. I thought he saw me.”

  Robbie rewound the tape. His father told him it was an iffy situation, and then Dean stood, walked to the cabinet and Darrell swore he looked right at him.

  Maybe Dean or Dean the clone did look right at him because his father had alerted him to the fact that there was an Iffy in the room.

  “Fuck.” Robbie scratched his head. “What the fuck?”

  Why would his father alert Dean to that?

  Dean looked at Darrell and that was the last thing he remembered.

  Robbie assured Darrell it was because the explosion knocked him out and he lost that portion of the memory. But one very important thing was forgotten. Darrell was out too long. His blood contained an unknown substance. A substance that kept Darrell knocked out.

  Maybe …

  It was possible that Dean didn’t leave, he hit Darrell with something.

  Something foreign.

  Something unknown.

  Something a clone from the future would carry.

  Reaching?

  Robbie didn’t know.

  But if Dean hit Darrell with something knocking him out, then he did it in front of Joe.

  Why did his father let that happen?

  Robbie’s mind raced. Did his father have a plan with Dean that they were working on and he thought perhaps the clone was Dean?

  Easily remedied.

  Robbie picked up the phone.

  “Hey, Dean, I have two questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  “The first, you only need to give me a yes or no. No details. OK. If you don’t want. Were you working on something with my father, or planning something with my father that he would not want to discuss in front of anyone? Perhaps he even let you know that one of Frank’s men were in the room.”

  “No.” Dean answered rather quickly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Unless it was a health issue, but even then we didn’t have anything we were discussing or working on.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s the other thing?”

  “I know a form of Chloroform was found in the mutilator victim’s nostrils, can you do me a favor, if it’s possible. Can you run a check on any of the victims’ blood to see if that synthetic you found in Darrell’s blood is there?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why?” Robbie asked.

  “I think Lars invented it.”

  “Can you just check?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then it’s possible to check?”

  “Absolutely, give me ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes.

  It was ten minutes of thought. But Robbie was still stuck on the fact that if Joe told Dean the clone that an Iffy was in the room, why?

  And was it possible he knew it was the clone?

  Ring.

  Robbie jumped and then answered the phone.

  “Fuck,” was Dean’s greeting.

  “What?”

  “You’re right.”

  Robbie snapped forward. “I’m right.”

  “I only checked Hap’s blood. But it was there. Traces of it.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “What? Wait. Robbie. If this substance was used on Darrell and on the mutilator victims, then whoever knocked out Darrell is the mutilator. Right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “The mutilator killed Joe,” Dean said. “Holy shit. The mutilations were a smoke screen.”

  “Could be.”

  “But Robbie … that would explain a lot.”

  “What do you mean?” Robbie asked.

  “Darrell had no injuries consistent with being caught in an explosion. We assumed he was thrown by the blast. But if the killer hit Darrell with this knock out drug before the explosion, then he did so …”

  “So Darrell didn’t get killed.” Robbie said.

  “Only thing is. If he were in the invisible suit, how did the killer know?”

  “Maybe it’s a gas,” Robbie said.

  “I’ll do a lung biopsy on Darrell we’ll find out.”

  “Thanks.”

  He hung up the phone.

  Dean’s words rang in Robbie’s mind. “Only thing is. If he were in the invisible suit, how
did the killer know?”

  Robbie had an answer to that. The killer or clone knew because Joe told him the Iffy was in the room.

  There were two reasons.

  The first, it was conceivable that the clone was revealing himself to Joe, and Joe told him about the Iffy to keep the ‘clone’ revelation a secret. Or anything else the clone was revealing. That actually made some sense. Which would make the explosion totally unrelated to the situation.

  No.

  Robbie shook his head.

  The hole in that theory was the possibility that Darrell was removed from the office prior to the explosion. If that was the case ….

  And his father told the clone that Darrell was in the room, and Joe was there when the clone knocked out Darrell, then Joe had to know the explosion was coming.

  That was where it didn’t make sense.

  Joe didn’t, he couldn’t have known about the explosion.

  ‘No’, Robbie thought, ‘He was on the phone with me the whole time.’

  The entire thing was more mind baffling the deeper he thought into it.

  Fact: Darrell had no injuries consistent with being blown up. It was more probable that he was knocked out.

  Fact: Darrell was found quite a distance from the explosion.

  Fact: Joe was with the clone at that time. It was not Dean.

  Fact: Joe told the clone Darrell was in the room. The clone looked at Darrell.

  Fact: The clone left the office five seconds before the explosion. He showed no surprise at the explosion; so therefore, the clone had to know about the explosion.

  Fact: Joe was in the office with the clone the whole time.

  If only two men were in the office immediately prior to the explosion, and the clone’s prints didn’t match the ones on the explosive … where was the third man? Who ... was the third man?

  Or was there a third man.

  ‘It’s always the last person you’d check.”

  Robbie closed his eyes. He mumbled aloud. “Fucking doesn’t make sense. Why? No. No. Can’t be.”

  ‘It’s always the last person you’d check.”

  “Fuck it.” With a huff, and a ‘what the hell’, Robbie pulled his computer forward, and called up the fingerprint program.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  March 28th

  The sun hadn’t broken the dense darkness of the night sky. Although spring had settled, the thick fog just hindered any additional light.