Deadly Donations Part III
My name is Henry James and I’m a writer for Dark Sides of the Truth Magazine.
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Conclusion
Although I’m working on just two hours of sleep following a ten and a half hour drive from Topeka Kansas my body’s buzzing like I’ve had five energy drinks in a row.
Actually only two, but damn those things are powerful. When I come crashing down it ain’t going to be pretty.
I wouldn’t be going through all this if Sunny had done what Rick told her and left this black market organ story alone. But she didn’t and now she’s off the grid.
And that’s why I’ve taken such a liking to the spitfire from hell.
She did exactly what I would have done. She flipped Rick McDonnell off and decided to do things her way and go after the story.
Only problem was her way just might get her killed.
I was familiar with the area of the address Rick gave and totally confused.
I was expecting Sunny’s lifestyle to be similar to mine. A gated apartment community complete with a pool and summer parties until two or three AM.
The address I was hunting down just happened to be in one of the ten most wealthy and influential areas in Austin. Chock full of doctors, lawyers and politicians.
I slowed and pulled into a driveway with brick pillars on either side and a humongous wrought iron gate comprised of twin barricades. There was an intercom on one of the pillars so I pushed the button and waited.
“Yes?”
“Is this the residence of Shaundrika Alexander? My name is Henry James. We work together at Dark…”
I heard a mechanical buzzing sound and both gates swung inward then shuddered to a full stop allowing me a clear view of the house.
Except it wasn’t a house. It was freaking mansion.
The damned thing must have sprawled across a couple of acres. I’ve never seen so much natural stone on a single building in my life. Well, I take that back. There was the time I thought about taking a castle tour of Ireland.
The brochures were awesome.
I kept telling myself there was no way, no way Sunny a starving writer for the Dark Sides could live here.
Hell, most times I struggle to pay my apartment rent on time. I couldn’t imagine what the mortgage payment on this monstrosity would be.
I parked at the front of the house then took the flight of concrete stairs to the front door. Before I could reach the doorbell one of a pair of massive wood stained doors swung inward and there she was.
Nope, not Sunny, but if Shaundrika put on about thirty or forty years and maybe a smidgen of weight it could have been.
The woman stretched out her hand and smiled, but I could see the worry in her eyes, apprehensive, desperate.
“So good of you to come Mr. James, please do come in.”
I followed her in, stunned into total silence at the subtle, but opulent look of the high polished tile floors, a gigantic carpeted staircase which split at the top into a T, and effulgent paintings on the walls.
Talk about the overwhelm folks.
The woman led me into a library ranked up there with one of the seven wonders of the world then perched on the edge of a couch. I took a chair across from her sat down and clasped my hands together. Normally, I can ease into a conversation with someone I’ve just met with little or no effort.
Somehow I found myself struggling.
“Ma’am,” I finally managed to get out, “as I said, my name..”
“My name is Cynthia Mr. James and I know who you are. Shaundrika talks about you all the time.”
“Really.”
“Yes she does.”
“Flattering I hope.”
Cynthia smiled.
“Well, let’s see. How does she put it? Oh yes. You’re a crotchety old white man, who wouldn’t know a decent pair of trousers if they bit you on the butt. You eat things she wouldn’t feed to slop hogs, and your satirical comments almost always get on her last nerve.”
I stared at her for a second then closed my mouth.
“She also says you’re one of the best writers she knows.”
“Okay I’ll hang my hat on that last bit. So does Sunny actually live here?”
“Not here in the main house. She has her own bungalow on the back of the property. Private drive so she can come and go as she pleases. She’s such a strong willed child that one. Always has been.”
“When was the last time you spoke with her?”
“Four days ago. I’ve never known her to be so secretive about things before. Normally, she’s forthcoming with what she’s doing, but not this time. Of course she had to come clean somewhat with the money transfer.”
“Money transfer?”
“She wanted to transfer fifty million from her inheritance trust fund to a bank in Pierceton.”
I knew my mouth was open again, but this time I didn’t really care.
“Fifty million dollars?”
Cynthia nodded.
“Yes, my husband built a very successful pharmaceutical business from the ground up. When he died, the business, along with quite a large sum of money, of course went to me and the children. My two oldest sons, Raymond Jr. and Demarcus took charge of running the day to day. Damen, chose to go the way of medical school and is a surgeon at Houston General and that left Dante and Shaundrika.
“Dante? The Dante Alexander who plays round ball with the Dukes?”
“One and the same.”
“Oh wow. I sat center court the night he had a triple, double against Jackson. He could do absolutely no damned wrong.”
“Ahem.”
“Oh sorry.”
“All of our children are very talented and good at what they do. Including Shaundrika. Did you know she wrote an expose when she was in ninth grade that ended up putting several teachers behind bars?”
“Uh, no. No I didn’t.”
“Seems as if the law frowns on teachers having sex with minors. Regardless if the minors consent or not.”
“Well I’ll be damned.”
“Mr. James, please.”
“Again, sorry. So let me go back to the money thing Ms. Alexander…”
“Cynthia.”
“Yes ma’am. Cynthia. What I’m hearing is that Sunny has enough put aside to last her for the rest of her life, but she chooses to work for the Dark Sides. Does that about sum it up?”
“It’s her passion Henry and just like you, she’s very good at it. Let me ask you something. Can you imagine yourself doing anything else but writing for a living?”
“No Cynthia I don’t believe I can.”
“Well neither can she. She’s out there Henry. My baby girl is out there and she’s got that investigative streak of hers in overdrive. She’s lifting rocks and peering at what’s underneath. She’s pulling back the covers to see what jumps out. I know Rick McDonnell sent you over here to help. Please. Anything you can do will be appreciated Henry.”
I stood and took a long look at Cynthia Alexander as she wrung her hands and looked up at me silently imploring me to help ease her pain.
“Cynthia, I’ll show myself out. Seems as if I need to take a trip to Pierceton and do what I do best.”
READ ON — DEADLY DONATIONS — Part IV
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