A Witch and Her Man (Jeff and Gail) (12 page)

"Not a problem. Just be sure to leave it clean."

"It will be spotless. Gotta go, H. I'll talk to you again soon."

"See you soon."

He went on foot to a local car rental agency and signed out a car using a fake identification and credit card. He returned to his apartment, loaded his satchel and made his way to the interstate. He drove the remainder of the day and most of the night. Finally, he reached the outskirts of
Seattle
. He pulled to the curb and got out of his rental car.

Jeff walked several blocks and entered the lot of a notoriously less-than-scrupulous used car dealer. He strolled around, looking at the various models, and when a salesman approached, began haggling price. With the price settled, he peeled bills out of his wallet and drove off. The legal paper work had not been filed and the salesman did not even know his real name. Everything had been cash.

He checked into a seedy motel and when safe in his room, pulled out a photo. His transformation began. The man who left looked nothing like Jeff. He drove to his next destination and put his disguise to the test as he left the parking structure and entered the apartment complex.

"Good morning, Charlie," the doorman said.

"Good morning," Jeff mumbled and coughed, pretending to have a cold.

Jeff took the elevator up and exited. Down the hallway, he stepped in front of an apartment door. Jeff drew on a pair of Latex gloves then pulling a baseball cap from his pocket, placed it on his head. He slipped the small gun he carried from his boot and placed it in the back of his waistband. Tilting his head down so he could not be identified when the occupant looked through the peephole, he knocked.

"Who's there?" a voice asked on the other side of the door.

"I'm looking for Mr. Sparks."

The door swung open and a man inside spoke, "That's me, now what do you..."

He instantly fell silent as a gun was pressed under his throat. "Step back and if you want to live, be quiet," Jeff ordered.

The man did as directed and Jeff closed the door. The man's eyes grew wide as he looked into his own face under the baseball cap. Jeff motioned him to the floor and onto his stomach. Placing his knee between the man's shoulder blades, he bound the man securely. He placed a piece of tape over his mouth and went to the man's closet.

There, he selected a chauffeur's uniform and changed clothes, wrapping his own discarded clothing in a bundle. He put his clothing and the ball cap inside a paper bag he had carried in his pocket.

"Be very quiet and you will survive this," Jeff cautioned. "I'll make sure someone finds you later." He removed the tape and stuck a pill in the man's mouth.

"Swallow, and believe me, I will know if you don't. Don't worry, it's not poison. It's just something to put you to sleep for a while."

The man's throat bobbed and Jeff sat on a chair, waiting until the deep breathing and slowed pulse assured him the pill had taken effect. He left the apartment, went to Charlie's car and drove it to the garage that housed the limousine he was after. After he parked Charlie's car, he walked up to the attendant and got the limo keys with no problem.

He drove to Fredrick Collins' country estate, where he passed through the iron gates that closed off the driveway without difficulty thanks to his looking like Charlie, the chauffeur. He entered through the front door and paced down the hall. His footsteps made no noise on the thick carpet. Jeff glanced to each side at the pictures on the walls.
These paintings have to be reprints. If they're originals, they'd be worth a fortune.
At the hallway's end, he knocked on a thick wooden door.
Here goes the real test. Time to see if my disguise will fool the man himself.

The door swung open. "About time you got here," Fred's bodyguard, Jack growled. He stepped back from the door.

Jeff coughed and waved his hand dismissively but from the corner of his eye he took in Jack's appearance. Tall, dark hair, rugged face and built like a professional wrestler.

Sitting behind a massive, extravagant desk was Fred. The entire room was lavishly furnished. Fred stood and grumbled, "You're late."

"Sorry," Jeff said. "Traffic was heavier than usual. I'll try to make up time on the drive into town."

"Let's go then. Time to go shoot tomorrow's show so I can make some money, eh?" Fred walked to the door with Jack in the lead and Jeff following behind. They retraced Jeff's steps to the waiting limo. He held the door for Fred then he and Jack got in front. Jeff slipped on sunglasses to shield his eyes from the setting sun. They had driven about two miles and were approaching the outskirts of
Seattle
when Jeff began to feather the gas pedal, feigning car trouble. He pulled to the side and popped the hood. Getting out, he raised the hood and looked at the engine. It was not long before Jack got out and joined him in front of the car.

"Figure out what's wrong?" Jack asked as he leaned over to examine the engine with him.

"Yep, you've been involved too many times carrying out Fred's dirty work," Jeff answered.

"What..." Jack started to rise up, but he was far too late. Using his folded up chauffeur's jacket to muffle the noise, Jeff placed his pistol against Jack's temple and pulled the trigger. Jeff grabbed Jack, eased him over to the side by the front wheel and let him finish falling to the ground.

He stepped to the tinted window and tapped. Fred rolled it down.

"Did you figure out what's wrong with the car? What was that loud noise I heard?"

"The car backfired, scared the crap out of me," Jeff told him and smiled.

"Goddammit, I'm going to be late for the taping. Just wait until those bozo mechanics hear from me. I'll light their asses on fire," Fred grumbled.

Jeff quickly pulled the door open and slid in beside Fred showing his gun.

"What is the meaning of this, Charlie? Where is Jack?"

"Shut up," Jeff said. He handed Fred a pill and ordered him to get a bottle of water from the fridge. "Jack's dead, now drink. All of it or I'll kill you right here just like Jack."

Fred's hands shook but he put the pill in his mouth and managed to drink the whole bottle, washing the pill down.

"Now what?" Fred asked.

"Now we wait."

"I don't understand, Charlie. I've always treated you well. Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not Charlie and you've been responsible for many deaths, Fred. One of them was a close friend of mine." He watched as Fred's eyes began to get heavy. Soon his head slumped to the front and he began to breathe deeply. He waited a little longer to be sure Fred was asleep and got out of the back seat.

Dragging Jack's body to the rear, he tossed it into the trunk. He closed it, went to the front, closed the hood and slid back into place in the driver's seat. He pulled out onto the road and at the first opportunity, turned around and heading north. Upon reaching the turn-off, he followed a dirt track up to the remote cabin his friend owned. Jeff was pleased to see his friend's boat at the dock. He parked the limo behind the cabin so it could not be easily seen.
First he carried Jack's body onboard then loaded Fred.

Under the cabin porch he found a stack of empty sandbags and some rope. Jeff smiled.
Always thinking, H.
He quickly filled several of the bags with rocks and loaded them on the boat.

Jeff started the engine, cruised out of the cove and into the bay, toward open sea. When he was about ten miles offshore, he dumped Jack's weighted body overboard. Getting comfortable, he waited for Fred to regain consciousness while he mentally reviewed what he had found out about Fred in his research.

But why did he go after Gail and her friends?

He changed from the chauffeur's clothes to his polo shirt and blue jeans. After that, he removed his makeup and the rest of his Charlie disguise. He weighted these and tossed them overboard as well. At last, Fred's eyes began to flutter. He watched the man slowly realize his arms and legs were bound. Fred turned his head and studied him.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"The one who's going to take down your empire and you along with it," Jeff answered.

"Why me? I don't even know you. If it's money you want, I can give you plenty. More than you would ever dream of having," Fred pleaded.

"Your money won't bring my friend back. Nor the friends of the woman I love. Why, Fred? Why did you have them killed?"

"Who are these people you say I had killed? At least tell me that if I'm going to lose my life over them."

Jeff named Shorty, Marla and Justine and watched Fred's expression change as he became aware of his identity.

"You... you must be that private dick who's guarding that witch woman."

"Go to the head of the class, Fred. You got the answer right. Why did you have them killed, Fred?" he asked again.

"Why, because they're witches," he replied, as if that explained everything.

"They offer no threat to you or your empire. They just want to be left alone to worship as they believe."

"They must be eradicated, wherever they are. They cannot be allowed to exist. They're not Christian. They don't fear or believe in God. Their very existence is a blasphemy!" he cried in a rising voice reminiscent of the way he preached on television.

He could see in Fred's eyes this was not the whole answer. "Fred, I'm growing weary of this conversation. You're spouting religion at me as if you really believe your words, but I don't believe you." He started to get up.

"Wait, wait," Fred pleaded, "Gail and some of her other filthy witch friends have the deed to some property I want, and they won't sell. I'm having a devil of a time finding them though. They've established a corporation and there is a lot of legal wording. Their witch names are included but they can eventually be traced to their real names. As I found out their true identities, I had them eliminated. For example, Gail's name is Dionne."

Jeff shook his head. "So it comes down to this being all about land and money. Fred, you are one greedy, ruthless bastard. It's time, Fred."

"So, you're going to kill me anyway, even though I told you the whole story?"

"Never said I wasn't," Jeff answered in a flat, emotionless voice. "But since you gave me this information, I'm going to give you a choice. I'll let you take another pill and go to sleep or I'll do what I intended in the first place and just throw you overboard and let you drown. It's your choice."

Jeff got out of his seat and began to attach weighted bags to Fred's legs.

Fred screamed and cussed at him. He called him every vile name he could think of. He cursed Jeff and told him he would surely burn in the fires of Hell if he did this. The entire time he ranted, Fred's eyes shifted wildly, looking for any possible form of rescue - another boat, a plane passing overhead, anything other than the endless water that surrounded them. Nothing appeared. At last, with nothing more to say, Fred became quiet.

Through Fred's whole tirade, Jeff remained silent.

"I'm not Wiccan, but I don't believe in Hell, Fred. I think deep down you do though and if so, you better prepare yourself because I believe you have a much better chance of going there than Heaven. Now, I'll ask you one more time, do you want this pill or not?"

Fred simply nodded. He was going to die. There was absolutely nothing he could do to prevent it from happening.

Jeff gave him the pill and waited until Fred went to sleep before pushing him overboard, watching him sink quickly out of sight.

"Goodbye, Fred," Jeff said. He started the boat and headed back toward shore. He tied off the boat at the dock.