Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (29 page)

The gesture made Jack feel like he was having his head examined. “It is kind of personal. Let’s leave it at: a friend talked me into the idea.”

Without warning Shelby zipped across the room in a heartbeat and was sitting on Jack’s lap. The next thing he knew, she was kissing him passionately and he was eagerly returning what he got.

Fifteen minutes later they finally came up for air. Shelby pulled her tank-top back down over her magnificent breasts.

“That was unexpected,” Jack said with a wry smile.

“There’s a lot about me that would surprise you,” she answered, running her fingers slowly through his thick brown hair. “Why don’t we change the plans some, and order pizza in. Do you have something to drink around here?” and with that she jumped up and walked towards the kitchen.

“Sure, there’s probably some beer in the fridge.”

*    *    *

Outside, parked across the street, was an old-ratty looking Taurus sedan, and in it sat Ron Beckman. He was wringing his hands together nervously while the vein in his temple pulsed excitedly. Steve had told him to switch from following Rene to following Shelby around for the next couple of days, and from what he was witnessing through the sheer curtains of Jack’s apartment window, he knew Steve wasn’t going to be pleased.
She shouldn’t be stepping out on Mr. Yates; this just isn’t going to end well for anyone. That guy has a trip-hammer temper, and this will send him right over the edge.
He stopped squeezing his hands together for a minute, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants legs.
What if I just edit my report a little, possibly leave out some of the details, particularly the part about her shirt coming almost all the way off. But, if he finds out I was holding back my ass will be grass too. No, I’ll just have to tell it like it is.

*    *    *

“Jack honey, how about a tour of this place after we call in the pizza?”

“Sure, we can do that,” he replied as the phone began to ring.

Shelby rummaged through the cupboards, finding some whiskey and proceeded to mix some drinks, “How does whiskey and diet coke suit you?”
I know, I sure as hell prefer it to beer.

The ring repeated itself, the sound somehow feeling very insistent. Jack was experiencing an overwhelming urge to answer it. Halfheartedly, he replied, “Whiskey and coke is fine.” The third time he succumbed, picking it up without hesitation. “Hello.”

“Jack, Jack, is that you. I really need your help!” her voice was frantic.

“Rene, what’s the matter, what’s going on?”

The name Rene instantly caught Shelby’s attention.
I wonder what’s going on? This could be worthwhile.

“I don’t know how I got here, but I’m sitting at the edge of a graveyard,” she sobbed into the phone. “And there’s some old man here with me, babbling about some medallion or something.”

“Oh my god, Rene, are you all right? Are you hurt in any way? What cemetery? I’ll be right over to pick you up.”

This is a good time to stir up a bit of extra trouble.
“Jack, do you want a lime in that drink, or am I sweet enough for you?” Shelby asked rather loudly, as she came striding over.

“Jack, who is with you? I should’ve known you wouldn’t stick with me,” the statement was finished with a resounding click.

“Damn it, Shelby, did you have to be so loud while I was on the phone?”

“How was I supposed to know you had another girlfriend? If anything, I should be the one protesting. I thought we were off to a pretty good start.” She made a faux pouty face.

Jack wasn’t really buying the act.
This woman is one smooth operator, that‘s for damn sure.
“I’ve got to go. My real girlfriend needs my help.” He jumped up grabbing his keys and headed for the door. “Lock up on your way out, please!”
I hope to hell this damaged tire holds together while I try to find her.
Jumping into the car, he tried to reach Rene on her cell phone. Jack cringed as he drove over a section of lawn, scraping against the bushes in an effort to get around Shelby’s car.

Alone at last, Shelby felt this would be an opportune time to search the apartment for the journal or anything else incriminating. She paused briefly, rubbing her temples.
Why can’t I find a man like that? Somebody that really cares about me and would drop everything to make sure I’m okay. Steve would be more likely the one hurting me than helping me.
She tipped back the first drink, sucking it down,
Can’t let this go to waste,
she concluded, knocking back the second one.

*    *    *

Ron cringed as he watched Jack driving off alone. Who in the hell was he supposed to follow now? Stick with Shelby or tail Jack, who looked like he was in an all- fired hurry.

Chapter 24
Sat. Sept. 21
st
, 1929

Saturday September 21
st
, 1929

Angela was standing on the back veranda of her palatial home looking down from its majestic perch, out across the river. The afternoon air was very refreshing. She had spent most of the afternoon cooped up, continuing to plan for tonight’s big event. A small worry line creased her smooth brow.
What if this whole coin thing isn’t real after all? I know I saw it work, but that was only once and in reverse. I could be wrong about my theory of going forward, and then what? This whole party thing could blow up in my face and lead to a small gangland war. No, it’s just got to work, it’s as simple as that. When have I ever been wrong before?

Instinctively she wrinkled her forehead up more as she thought about it.
When have I ever been wrong before?
She repeated to herself in a mocking tone. Thoughts of Charles came flooding to mind.
That was different, though, it was love that blinded me.  Maybe not so different, after all what was this Tim thing about anyway?
The answer smacked her right between the eyes.
Love!

The back door slammed loudly, dragging her from her thoughts, not that Angela wasn’t delighted for a distraction.

“Sorry to’s bother ya, boss,” Tony said with his substantial Italian accent.

“It’s quite all right Tony. There are lots of things going on today. What’s the skinny?”

“Ya know, I’ve always been straight with you and yous been straight with me,” he said hesitantly, his massive shoulders twitching slightly.

“Go on, Tony, its okay, say whatever it is you’ve got to get off your chest.” She patted him reassuringly on the upper arm.

“I don’t wants to be no stoolly or nothing;” again he paused, his face furrowed with indecision.

This time Angela just waited looking intently into his eyes with a look of patient determination.

“It’s just that Charles wants me to covers for him tonight supposen he disappears for awhile before or afters the raid. The whole thing stinks of double crossen to me.” Tony sighed deeply, “There, I said, don’t like to squeal, youse don’t live long doin’ that kind of thing.”

“Tony, I appreciate your honesty, and its not being a squealer to protect the family that takes care of you. It’s much worse to double-cross those you trust.”

“Thanx, I newed you’d understand.” He started to turn, about to walk away.

“Tony, I need you to do me a favor. Stick extra close to Charles tonight. If he tries to stray from the plan, persuade him otherwise. A roughing up might solve the problem.” Angela could see Tony’s muscles flex at the thought almost instinctively. “If he still can’t be reasoned with, then take the appropriate action we would use when dealing with any one in the organization that’s not cooperating.”

“But he’s the number two guy,” Tony protested, sounding concerned.

“Yes, Tony, but I’m number one, and I’m giving you the green light. Don’t worry, I’ve got your back if things turn out poorly,” she smiled reassuringly. At least she hoped it looked reassuring, because that’s not how she felt.

This time when Tony turned to leave she did not stop him. His heavy footsteps clunked across the wood deck like a somber drum beat. He entered the house, ending the rhythm, leaving her alone again in silence with nothing but her own thoughts for company. Those thoughts took her back to the point in time when she knew for certain that she and Charles were through.

It had been a wonderful afternoon of daydreaming down by the lake. They had walked and walked, chatting and forgetting their troubles. That Charles could really be a smooth talker when he wanted to be.  It had been about a year since she first met him at that bar. He was a sharp character and had risen quickly through her organization. He was a bit too rash, but exceptionally smart.

They had spread out a soft blanket and were having a wonderful evening picnic in a very secluded area of the park. Several bottles of wine later, one thing had led to another and then another. This part of the memory brought a small sad smile to her face as she continued staring out at the river. Not that she saw anything that was currently in front of her. She was completely lost back in the moment.

Charles had even talked of getting married and maybe having a family someday. The thought of  a family was both terrifying and exciting at the same time. At first she had reacted coyly, but the more they discussed the matter the more she liked it. This wasn’t their first conversation about it. This night, however, the subject led to her suggesting they go legit to give the kids a normal life. Charles did not react well to the proposition. He insisted he should take over the gang and that she step aside and care for the family. The argument grew heated from there.

“Damn you, Charles, is that what you’ve been angling at the whole time, taking over the gang? You don’t love me at all.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” he grabbed her wrist before she could get up from the blanket.

Grabbing the glass of wine next to her, Angela threw it in his face. Surprised by this, he released her wrist. “Just forget the whole thing; I should have listened to my instincts about you.” Getting up from the blanket, she stalked back up the hill through the trees towards the car.

“You bitch, you’ll ….,” the rest of what was said trailed off as the distance separating them grew.

Twenty minutes later a somber looking Charles came trudging up the hill, picnic basket and blanket in tow.

As he came closer the tension only reignited. Neither spoke a single word. Charles threw the picnic crap in the back seat and fired up the engine. In his anger, caution was not something he was employing. The car swerved around a corner too fast, crossing the centerline and narrowly missing another oncoming vehicle. Its blaring horn was the only thing breaking the silence that now sat between them.

Thirty minutes later and just a few blocks from home; still not a word had been spoken. Angela became more and more convinced she had hit the nail on the head, that Charles had been planning a takeover all along, and what a clever one at that. No violence necessary, no risk of retaliation, what a strategy! The grand prize, she at his side, endorsing the whole thing. Her green eyes burned with hatred as she glared over at him.

Feeling the tension on him, Charles took his eyes from the road to stare back. This time he wasn’t so fortunate and he missed a bend in the road. The big black Ford leapt the curb, angrily shaking its two passengers back and forth. The skinny tires skidding on the grass as he tried too aggressively to apply the brakes and countersteer. The car finally slid to a halt, hitting a nicely manicured set of Hydrangea bushes.

He looked at her briefly before speaking. There was no compassion for her welfare in his steel-grey eyes, only anger.

She glowered back at him, chastising her self for having been so stupid. What had she seen in him?

Charles began to speak at her angrily, “Let me tell you this.”

Before he could finish his sentence she twisted hard on the door handle. Creaking loudly, the door sprung open. Scrambling out of the car she started to stalk off, yelling over her shoulder, “Save it for someone that gives a shit.”

Half a block later the cool night air felt like it was closing in around her. A chill ran up her spine, and the hairs on the nape of her neck stood up in anticipation. Something wasn’t quite right. She could feel it. It felt like death had laid his evil hand upon her shoulder.

Pivoting she saw what at first glance looked like two demon’s eyes coming out of the darkness straight for her. Her heart was beating so fast, she could feel the pounding rhythm in her ears. Sucking in a shallow breath of the cool night air, she tried to relax and think quickly. Her senses came flooding back to her just in the nick of time.

There were two headlights careening out of the darkness straight at her. Now she could hear the roar of the engine as the car sped ever closer.

She couldn’t die like this, not like this. With her whole effort focused on survival, she sprinted three paces before diving for a large oak tree just to the side of the road. The massive trunk was at least four feet around. Catching the edge of the sidewalk before beginning the full slide, her dress ripped and the concrete tore cruelly into her skin. Then she hit the chill grass and continued forward in a much less painful manner. Just a little further and she would be safely behind the tree. 

There was an ear-splitting crunch as everything went black. Pieces of wood, metal, and glass came raining down from everywhere. Instinctively, Angela covered her head and cringed. A few moments later all was quiet and, much to her astonishment, she was still alive. A small wave of elation swept over her. She was alive! She said it to herself over and over again in her head, barely allowing herself to believe it. Slowly she sat up. Her leg hurt like hell where it had caught the concrete. She winced as she touched it, feeling small rivulets of blood welling up on the skin. She began to pat herself tenderly, feeling her arms and legs to see if anything was broken.

It was hard to do much more than feel. Everything was very dark, the headlights were gone and the lone street light was about half a block away.

Her faculties just beginning to register what happened. Charles had tried to run her down like a dog, the woman he had professed to love early the same evening. Gingerly, she placed her hand on the ground and began to push herself up. Pain shot through her palm. Yanking it back, she found a large shard of glass had pierced it ever so slightly. Angrily pulling it out, she staggered upright, a little stiff but still alive.

Her eyes adjusting to the moonlight, Angela could make out the silhouette of the black Ford with its front end wrapped like a horseshoe around the big oak.

She could hear yelling, or so she thought. Her ears were still ringing from the deafening bang of the crash. With a new-found fervor, she made her way around to the driver’s side of the car. She tugged on the door. The blasted thing refused to open. Charles was lying there, his head hanging over the steering wheel with dark spots of blood spattered about his face.

The window was down. Reaching in, she put her hand up to his mouth. His breath was coming slow and shallow, but it was still coming. Pity and hatred filled her heart.

“You dirty bastard,” she whispered. The back door of the car opened freely and she retrieved her purse from the floor. Pulling out the handgun she kept in it, she put the revolver up to Charles’s temple. “You’ll pay for this, you maniac.” Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to tighten her finger on the trigger. The moment seemed to last a life time. “Not by my hand, no, not by my hand. The problem here is I really did love you. Something you know nothing about.” Slipping the gun back in her purse, she turned and slowly began to limp away. It was only moments before sirens came blazing, and she felt the warmth of some stranger placing a blanket around her shoulders. They were trying to say something comforting. However, the emotion of it all and the ringing in her ears kept her from hearing the sentiment.

Tears were streaming from her tired-looking eyes now as she forced herself to keep from sobbing. The memory of the whole event was just as painful today as it had ever been.
This will be the end of it once and for all. Tonight either the Scarafini gang will get him or Tony will. I can feel it. It won’t be my fault, I tried to spare him. Just because he’s put on a good show since then doesn’t mean he’s changed. An accident my ass, oh Angela the accelerator stuck! Yeah right it did, what about the steering, did it stick too, in a direct line with me? Why do I always question my better judgment on this? Maybe because he’s never tried to kill me since then, as far as I know that is. What, once wasn’t enough to be convincing? Finally, I get the nerve to have it done and Bill muffs the job. Although, I doubt it was his fault. Based on recent events, I’d bet anything Charles’s jibber jabber account of that night was caused by one and the same coin Tim now has.