The Foreman
By Charles Culver
Version 1.0 - March 07, 2013
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, locales, are entirely coincidental.
Cover Image used under license from Shutterstock.com
Need to contact the author? You may contact the author by one of the following ways.
Email: [email protected]
Website: https://www.chuckculver.com
Table of Contents
Title/Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
One
Jeff Parker was lying in bed when the incessant knocking on his hotel-room door began. He had been out at a bar until well after midnight, celebrating his recent business deal, and was in no mood to be woken up in such a manner. With a stretch, he groaned and rolled onto his side to look at the clock. Face to face with the glowing red digits, he let out another groan, only this time it was much louder and had undertones of anger.
The knocking continued as Jeff yelled out, “What? What do you want, for the love of God?”
It was completely out of character for Jeff to yell in such a manner. For most of his earlier life, he was always calm, well spoken, and widely liked. He only had a short fuse when it came to the mistreatment of his friends and family. He was an extremely goal-oriented person and when he set his mind on something, he accomplished it. Because of his tenacity, and a bit of a silver tongue, he’d made a very successful career for himself.
Despite his successes in life, he didn’t have a girlfriend. His friends told him it was because he worked too much. Jeff didn’t disagree, but just couldn’t find the time to put his career aside to focus on his love life. He figured that if it were meant to happen, it would happen naturally. He kept telling himself he would find time for love after he made his first million.
That night he was staying in a hotel because the company he worked for had sent him 1,000 miles away to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, on a business trip. Jeff had just closed a lucrative deal that would make his company a substantial sum of money. His cut of the deal was nothing to shrug your shoulders at, either. The company put him up at a local hotel and he would catch a plane home the next day.
When Jeff had arrived at the hotel and checked in, he called his mother, Sara, and gave her the good news. With the exception of his mother, work always came first in his life. When his father died a few years back, he took it as his personal mission in life to keep her happy. He called her every day after that just to chat, even if only for a few minutes. He felt it was his duty to be a good son in her time of need and it became almost a habit.
The knocking continued.
Jeff yelled out, “Christ! What do you want? It’s two in the morning for—”
“Sir,” a voice behind the door finally responded. “It’s a problem with your room.”
“What problem?” Jeff replied.
“Sir, you need to open up and let me in. This is important.”
“Open up? Are you crazy? It’s the damn middle of the night. What problem? There’s no problem in here.”
The doorknob rattled, as if someone was trying to frantically enter the room.
“Sir, there’s a gas leak. It’s very important that you open the door and leave the room immediately.”
“Gas leak?” Jeff asked as he jumped out of bed and turned on the light next to the bed.
“That’s right, sir, a gas leak.”
Jeff grabbed a pair of pants off the arm of the chair and made his way to the hotel-room door. He stepped into them and pulled them up while leaning forward and looking out the peephole. It was two in the morning after all and he wanted to confirm it wasn’t a trick or a robbery, or something worse.
The peephole revealed nothing but darkness. Jeff leaned back and rubbed the lens with his finger, hoping it was just dirt that was obstructing his view. On second glance the darkness was replaced by a slightly brighter, blurry outline of a person. Still too dirty for a clear view, he thought. He could tell it was definitely the silhouette of someone standing there, but something about it looked wrong.
The knocking began again.
“Sir?” The voice behind the door called out. “Please hurry for your own safety.”
Jeff knelt down to try and get a good look at the person from the crack under the door. The gap provided him a terrific view of nothing except two shadow spots, presumably the feet of the person standing there.
He stood back up and replied, “How do I know you’re not a criminal or murderer or something?”
The voice replied, “Excellent inquiry, sir. Why don’t you call the front desk and confirm. On your way back to the phone, try not to breathe too deeply. Gas leaks have a nasty habit of killing people, but by all means call first.” The voice turned sarcastic, “Perhaps, if I may suggest, you’ll want to skip calling the front desk and call straight to the coroner to come pick up your body. Tell them you refused to leave your room when warned of a gas leak. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
Still groggy from his rude wakeup and slightly buzzed from earlier, Jeff reluctantly said, “Yeah, okay. Hold on. I’m coming.”
“A wise decision, sir. Please hurry.”
Jeff flipped the safety latch and turned the deadbolt. As soon as the door was cracked open, the person in the hallway shoved it hard. The door knocked into Jeff, sending him to the floor with a thud. Before he had a chance to realize what had happened and get to his feet, a white-gloved fist was coming at his face.
Two
Sara Parker was brushing her teeth the next morning when she had the sudden realization that her son hadn’t called in two days. This was the first time in a few years that he hadn’t called to chat or ask her how she was doing. Maybe it was intuition or motherly instinct, but she immediately knew something was wrong.
She went to the kitchen phone and dialed his cell. It went straight to voicemail. She knew enough about cell phones to figure that his was probably turned off. She called again with the same result. Her next call was to his office. The secretary who answered transferred the call to his boss.
“Hello?” his boss answered.
“Good morning, my name’s Sara Parker.”
“Oh, you must be Jeff’s mother.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I haven’t heard from him in two days and I wanted to make sure everything was okay. I haven’t been able to get him on his phone either.”
“Everything is fine, Mrs. Parker. In fact, your son called me two days ago and told me that his wallet was stolen and he’d be delayed while he got things sorted. He even asked if he could take a little vacation time before coming back. Apparently, it’s a pretty nice area where he is up there in Pennsylvania. Normally I wouldn’t agree to something like that on such short notice, but he made us a lot of money with this recent deal so I fi
gured, why not? I even wired him some money to tide him over until he gets his wallet problem taken care of.”
“Oh. So maybe his phone was stolen too and that’s why I can’t get him?”
“I don’t think so. He called me from his cell phone. I’m sorry but I don’t know what else to tell you. I mean, if he calls me, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”
“Yes, please, I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.”
“I understand, Mrs. Parker. I’m a father too. If I hear from him, I’ll let you know, but I have to assume that he’s just on his mini-vacation.”
She gave him her phone number, thanked him, and ended the call. After a bit of pacing around the house, she decided it wasn’t good enough and she called the police. She was hesitant at first about calling since she had a history of making reports of, well, everything. Lately, it seemed that they never took her seriously and were just appeasing her.
Sara lived in Florida with Jeff, albeit in different parts of the state. Before her husband’s death years ago, they had decided to sell their house in Pennsylvania and move to Florida for their retirement. Jeff, strongly disliking the winter weather and having no other ties to the area, decided to move with them. Since the passing of her husband, she had turned into the neighborhood busybody. The community she lived in had an association that liked to list rules and regulations about what its families could and could not do with their property. Some of these rules pertained to obvious things such as noise limits after certain hours and ranged down to how long garbage cans could stay outside and what colors they could use on their house.
Unfortunately for the police, the community association didn’t like to enforce the rules that they imposed on their residents. Sara took it upon herself to call the police about everything, even though practically none of the calls were police-enforceable. Unknown to her, she was unofficially flagged at the police department as a nuisance citizen. The officers would make jokes about her around the water cooler. They would tell stories about how many times she had called on their shift and even try to one-up each other as to who handled her most ridiculous call.
The call to the police didn’t go as well as she had hoped. They told her that since he was an adult and had no history of medical issues or threats of violence against him, it couldn’t yet be filed as missing persons. They further explained to her that since his boss had heard from him and that Jeff told him he would be taking a vacation, it wasn’t suspicious.
Frustration was beginning to set in when she realized that Bill might be able to help. Bill was a retired police detective from their old hometown in Pennsylvania and a good family friend since before Jeff was born. Sara called him immediately.
“Of course, Sara, that doesn’t sound like Jeffrey at all,” said Bill, after listening to Sara’s concerns.
“So you’ll check it out?”
“Yeah, there’s no way he would disappear for two days without a call to you, even if his wallet and phone were stolen.”
“I don’t think his boss is lying, but it doesn’t sit well with me. I have a feeling,” replied Sara.
“Uh-oh. You’ve got one of your feelings? Alright. Luckily Lancaster isn’t far from me, only a few hours drive. I’ll leave tomorrow morning once I gather up some of my equipment and make a few calls.”
“Thanks, Bill. I owe you for this.”
“Not a problem, Sara. What are friends for?”
Three
Upon graduating high school, Bill had enlisted in the Marines. After serving his time, he was able to attend college and get his degree in criminal justice. He and Sara had met while in college, and had remained friends. Fresh out of college, Bill decided he wanted to be a detective, so he joined his local police force and worked his way through the ranks, eventually testing into the position he had been waiting for. Sara happened to live in the same town, which helped their friendship remain strong.
Sara had gotten married and had a baby, but she stayed in touch with Bill despite her own life now moving along a different path. As a contrast to Sara’s life, Bill had neither married nor had children. It was just him, his job, and his dog, Stinky. His real name was going to be Spike. When Bill decided on the name Spike, Sara told him it was too clichéd for a dog’s name. Struggling to come up with something better, she blurted out, “Why not just call him Stinky? He smells worse than any dog I’ve ever met.”
Throughout his years as a detective, Bill had made lots of friends in his department. As usually happens in life, some of those friends had moved away and gotten new jobs all over the country. He’d always made it a point to keep in touch with his old buddies via letters and, as times changed, through email.
Eventually Bill retired from the force. Both Sara and her husband also retired and moved to Florida. Shortly afterwards his dog, Stinky, passed away leaving him completely alone. He thought about getting another dog but really wanted to spend his retirement traveling the world. He’d decided that having another living creature to take care of would weigh him down and make it too difficult to travel.
Bill’s pension was enough for him to live comfortably and pay the bills, but he was bored and his house was too quiet. He decided to get his private investigator’s license and was able to make some extra money to pay for his traveling expenses. With his previous police and detective background, it was right up his alley. Since he lived in Pennsylvania, he was able to get his conceal-carry permit without issues. After so many years on the force, he felt almost naked without his gun.
Sara and Bill kept in touch, even after her move, but recently the calls seemed to be getting further apart. It had been almost three months since their last chat when Sara called him with the story of Jeff being missing for two days. They were practically family to him and he felt obligated to help in any way he could. He packed up all his equipment, which some of his friends called his spy gear, his gun, and a few changes of clothes.
Before hitting the road, he made a phone call to a good buddy of his, Sam, who was still on the force. Bill convinced Sam to check into Sara’s story. Since his retirement, the department had gotten new software that allowed them to check other police databases from all over the country. Unfortunately, Sam informed him that no case was ever opened and there was absolutely no information or help he could give.
He briefly considered calling the hotel and airline to see if Jeff had checked out or used his plane ticket, but decided against it. They most likely would be willing to only discuss that information with police, and even then, not without a warrant. Bill figured it was best to continue on his way and investigate the scene, undercover. His first stop would have to be at the Lancaster police department. He felt it was professional courtesy to visit them and inform them of his arrival and intent to investigate Jeff’s disappearance. He slid behind the wheel of his BMW and drove off toward the opposite side of the state.
After a few hours on the road, Bill pulled into the Lancaster Police Headquarters. He introduced himself at the front desk, and the captain was called out to meet with him.
“Pleasure to meet you, Detective. I’m Captain Murphy.”
“Captain,” Bill replied with a firm handshake.
“I got a call a few hours ago from your old station back in Pittsburgh. He told me who you are and that you’d be coming to look into the disappearance of a family friend. Mind if I ask what you’re looking for?”
“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure exactly. I’m doing this as a favor to his mother.”
“Oh, I see. We’ve all been in the favor business before,” the captain replied.
Bill nodded, “Yup. Mind if I go look around?”
“Have at it. As long as you share anything you find with us, of course. If this turns into a criminal investigation, we’re gonna need that info.”
“Of course, Captain. I know the drill.”
“Good luck, Detective. Here’s my number if you need to reach me.”
Bill took the card from
the captain. The two men shook hands and parted ways. Back in his car, he set his GPS for the hotel and drove off. At a window overlooking the parking lot, a hand could be seen pushing the blinds aside. Bill, oblivious that he was being watched, got in his car and drove way. Once the car was out of sight, the hand disappeared and the blinds swung shut.
It was a quick trip from the police station to the hotel. Bill had no trouble finding a parking spot. In the whole lot, there might have been five other vehicles. He assumed it was an off time and these were the cars of the staff. He picked up his bag of equipment and clothing from the passenger seat and headed inside.
The bell’s ring echoed loudly through the quiet hotel lobby, but after several calls, no one answered. He leaned over the counter and looked toward the office door. Not seeing or hearing any movement, he turned around and began walking to the center of the lobby, checking down the corridor leading to the first floor rooms.
A voice from behind him called out, “Can I help you, sir?”
Startled, Bill spun around. Behind the counter was an elderly man with grey hair, wearing a red shirt and black tie. He approached the man at the counter who stood at attention, awaiting a response.
“Wow!” exclaimed Bill. “You sorta snuck up on me there—”
Bill paused and looked down at the man’s nametag. The tag was in the shape of a sun with large, exaggerated curved rays. The man’s name was printed in crisp black letters across the tag.
“Maurice,” Bill continued.
“I get that a lot,” replied Maurice. “How can I help you? Are you checking in?”
“Yes. Well, hopefully. I don’t have a reservation. I’m traveling on sort of a road trip. I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, but this looked as nice a place as any to crash for the night.”
“I see,” said Maurice shortly.
“Um, do you have any vacancies?”
“Yes, sir. Do you require two beds or—”
“No. A single is fine. I’m alone.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll need a credit card and you need to fill out this form,” said Maurice as he slid a clipboard across the counter. “You’ll also note that all our rooms are non-smoking.”
The Foreman Page 1