Fiction

It Never Starts With A Body Part 6

A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett

My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

We were pretty sure Cynthia Alexander-James wasn’t expecting to see the two of us sitting on a couch outside of the board room where she and a host of executives had been meeting.

A frazzled expression of consternation crossing her face the minute she saw us gave her away.

She stepped aside as other board members filed out the room. Most of them we knew, one, in particular, a regular attendee at some of our family functions. Hubert Schwimmer had been with Alexander Pharmaceuticals since the beginning.

A cordial, elderly statesman and a brilliant pharmaceutical engineer in his own right, Hubert, along with Cynthia and Ray Sr., helped build the Alexander empire.

All of the Alexander family knew and respected Hubert. When Ray Jr. and Demarcus graduated from their respective colleges, Hubert had taken both of them under his wing, tirelessly working with them until the day came for both Ray Jr. and Demarcus to take over.

And without a word of protest, Hubert graciously stepped away from his CEO position, accepting a place on the board of Alexander Investments. For almost twenty years, Hubert tenaciously led the charge in his new position, ultimately helping the company make billions of dollars in revenue.

The man’s face brightened, and he smiled when he saw us. As he strode across the carpeted floor, we stood. After a brief hug and a handshake, he stepped back and gazed happily at us.

“Sunny Alexander, I haven’t since you since, well since…”

“The last time?”

The man’s laughter filled the foyer.

“Yes, since the last time. My how you’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. How are Robert and the twins?”

“All three good. Dante and Alicia are sprouting like a pair of weeds.”

“Excellent. Feed and water them, and they’ll be in college in no time. Henry? How about you? Staying out of trouble?”

“Come on Hubert, where’s the fun in that?”

Again the man’s laughter reverberated around us.

“So when are we going back to the range, Henry? I’ve got a new Sig Sauer I’m just itching to try out.”

“Damn Hubert, the last time we went shooting, I think you took a small arsenal to the range.”

“One can never have enough personal protection, Henry. Did I tell you what my latest passion is?”

“Reloads?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Just lucky, I guess. Tell you what Hubert, maybe this weekend. How about that?”

“Perfect. I’ll give you a call. But I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way across town to talk to me. Cynthia? I’m going to finish those financial portfolios tomorrow morning first thing. Tonight’s date night, and I promised Betty I wouldn’t be late.”

“Certainly Hubert. Say hello to Betty for me.”

“Will do.”

Hubert nodded in our direction, flashed us another winning grin, and trundled across the carpeted floor, finally turning into a hallway and disappearing.

“So what brings you two here? I rarely receive a visit at my offices by you.”

“Mother we need to talk.”

“I’m listening, Shaundrika.”

“It’s about Richard Carlson. We…”

“Stop right there, young lady. We’re not having this discussion.”

“Yes, baby, we are. Sunny and I need to talk to you about some information we just learned, and honey, you know I love you, but you and your late husband Ray Sr. were at one point right in the middle of this. Like Shaundrika said, we need to talk.”

For several seconds Cynthia stared at us, her body seeming to quiver and draw in protectively. It was difficult to determine whether it was rage or fear eliciting the reaction, and we guessed it may have been a little of both.

“Fine, my office.”

With that, she spun about, distancing herself from us as she quickly paced in the direction of her office. We broke ranks and scurried after her, catching up with her just as she breezed past her receptionist’s desk.

“Nancy, no calls and no interruptions.”

“Yes ma’am.”

We made ourselves comfortable on an overstuffed leather couch against a wall opposite Cynthia’s massive oak desk expecting her to sit behind it. Instead, she shut her door with a little too much force, grasped a chair away from a small conference table in the corner, pulled it in front of us, and sat.

“Which one of you wants to go first?”

We exchanged glances and as one of us opened his mouth to speak the other just pushed the pedal to the firewall.

“Mother, when you saw Richard’s body in that warehouse, you knew exactly who he was, didn’t you? How could you not have known him? Richard, you and my father, started Alexander Pharmaceuticals together. And yet neither dad nor you spoke of him. Ever. All this time, the boys and I thought it was just you, Dad and Hubert. All this time. Why mother? Why is it you and Dad never told us about Richard Carlson?”

Cynthia stood, walked to her desk, and plucked several tissues from a dispenser. She returned to the chair and sat, dabbing a pair of suddenly moist eyes as she attempted to keep her composure. When she gazed at us, we saw a tortured expression on her face.

“Your father and I were ashamed of what we did, Shaundrika. We should have believed him, but we didn’t. We should have stuck by him.”

Cynthia covered her eyes with a hand, a few gentle sobs escaping as she struggled with a memory only she possessed.

“Cynthia, honey. Just tell us so we can try to help.”

“You can’t help Henry. It’s too late, thirty years too late.”

“Mother, please.”

We sat in silence as Cynthia again dabbed her eyes and nose taking deep breaths as if she hoped to push the feelings down, threatening to rise up and overtake her.

“Yes, Richard, your father and I were planning on starting Alexander Pharmaceuticals. Ray had just signed the lease on the building, and construction was underway.”

“At 28311 Commercial Blvd?”

Cynthia nodded, “yes the building where we found Richard.”

“What happened?”

“Richard used to work for a company that’s since then gone out of business. As a matter of fact, Crowly and Alcot labs were growing insolvent way back then. Right before we were to announce a story broke in the local newspaper, it cited unknown sources, but it clearly named Richard as having embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars from Crowly and Alcot.”

“Did he?”

“We didn’t think so at the time, but all the evidence provided by the source pointed to him. What made it worse was shortly before the story broke Richard somehow produced a sizable amount of money and invested it in Alexander Pharmaceuticals. Ray and he used to joke about growing a beanstalk. All it took was a little hard work, and the right kind of seed money.”

“He went to jail, didn’t he baby.”

“Yes Henry, he did. And of course, Ray and I cut all ties with him. We had to. The stigma of Richard Carlson and what he did would have killed Alexander Pharmaceuticals before it even got off the ground. But we desperately needed another partner. There was no way Ray and I could do this on our own.”

“Enter Hubert Schwimmer?”

“Yes, Shaundrika. He and Ray were casually acquainted, and Hubert had always dreamed of running his own company. His credentials and capabilities as a pharmaceutical engineer were a perfect fit. So we took a chance, and well, you two know how that turned out.”

“Where was Hubert working at the time?”

Cynthia balled the kleenex tightly in one fist and frowned in thought.

“I honestly don’t remember. Ray managed most of the partnership arrangements. I can possibly take a look at some of the original files.”

“Not necessary, mother. Henry and I have a couple of resources that can find just about anything.”

“Donnie and Becca?”

“Exactly.”

We stood, and Cynthia rose then gave us a perfunctory kiss and a hug.

“I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

“It’s fine, baby. We all have a few skeletons running around. Sometimes we just don’t know they’re skeletons.”

“Okay, you two shoo. I still have some work to get finished. Henry, I’ll see you at home. Shaundrika, give my grandchildren a hug and kiss for me.”

“Will do, mother.”

We let ourselves out and walked to the elevators in silence. When the car arrived, and the doors opened, we stepped in, turned around, and one of us punched the button to the lobby.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, James?”

“Yeap. Something’s not right here. It don’t quack like a duck. It don’t walk like a duck, and I’m pretty sure it ain’t a duck.”

“For once, old man, I agree with you. Well, except for all the duck nonsense.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

“Bite me, James. Let’s pay another visit to the super-spy twins.”

Read On — It Never Starts With A Body Part 7

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