Fiction
Return To Shandy Bay Conclusion
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, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
On the way back to the motel Donnie Sullivan, our friend, and kidnapper filled us in on his part in the Fixer’s scheme. He’d been contacted in much the same way as we had, a phone call made on an untraceable throw-away phone, a voice mechanically altered, and instructions on where to find the disguise and the gun.
Charlie Alvarez stopped by and took our statements and, at the same time, informed us some of his people, narcotics, and members of a DEA task force were in place and ready. If Escobar’s people hit that beach at midnight as we all expected they would, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
As far as we were concerned, and based on what had happened this week, we wanted to be as far away from that little bit of action as we could possibly be. After Donnie left us, we settled up at the motel’s main desk then left Shandy Bay for what we all hoped would be the last time.
It was about a three-hour trip back to Austin, which under normal circumstances would have provided us ample time to perform a mini-story board session on all the events which happened on this current story of ours.
But somehow, we all sat in silence, staring through our respective windshields and windows. When we did start talking, it became clearly apparent we were all thinking about the same thing.
“It just doesn’t make any damn sense.”
“The Fixer?”
“Exactly, Roberto. The Fixer. Here’s the deal. Whoever that cat is, they knew far too much about Escobar. I mean, how could this person have known Escobar would want to use Donnie’s pistol?”
“You saw that gun, Henry. It was a flashy and a very expensive weapon. As a gun enthusiast yourself, wouldn’t you want to try it?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose I would have, princess. But. Ah hell. Never mind.”
“No, say what you were going to say.”
“Well, first off, this Fixer person never gave us a chance to stop and breathe. Every time we turned around, he was pushing us, making us dance. It’s like we were chess pieces in some kind of game he was playing. And what about at the motel?”
“What about it?”
“Okay, two things, and if the Fixer had given us time, which evidently was part of the plan to not give us any, we would have all probably picked up on it.”
“He said he’d learned to control his Monday temper tantrums.”
“Exactly, Roberto. Who do we know that has issues with Mondays?”
“Come on, Henry, that’s a stretch even for you.”
“Fine Sunny, then what about this? How in the hell did the Fixer know Charlie was going to rap on Roberto’s car window when he did? The only freaking way he could have known that would have been if the Fixer was there, watching us the entire time. I bet this freak was watching us when we discovered the rope ladder, and I’d be willing to bet the Fixer was in that barn today.”
“What are you saying, Henry? That the Fixer killed Escobar? You think he broke his neck execution-style then slipped out the back of the barn after the police entered?”
“Wouldn’t put it past somebody like this. Whoever it is is too damn connected to shit. Too knowledgeable about the world of living as a spook.”
“A spook?”
“You know, espionage and stuff like that.”
“A spy?”
“Maybe Roberto, but I’m thinking more like a Chuck Norris Delta Force kinda dude with connections to some pretty bad folks.”
“Who’s Chuck Norris?”
“Seriously, princess?”
“Not that it matters Henry, but why is it so important we know who this Fixer is anyway? The way I see it, whoever was on that phone, whoever was spying on us actually helped us.”
“Okay, Roberto, I’ll give ya that, but aren’t you even the least bit curious in figuring out who this Fixer really is?”
“Henry, if the Fixer actually did what you think to Escobar, don’t you think you might end up in the same condition if you start snooping around?”
“I agree with Roberto Henry. I think we all need to let this sleeping dog lie.”
“But…”
“I’m serious old man.”
“Fine.”
Three hours and fifteen minutes later, Roberto pulled into the parking lot of Dark Sides, and after grabbing our gear, we all piled out of the car.
“See you guys tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, tell mother I said I love her.”
“I will, but I have something I need to do first.”
“And what’s that?”
“My business princess.”
“Henry, I thought I said…”
“I know what you said, Shaundrika, but it doesn’t hurt to just poke around a little. Hell, for all we know, it’ll end up being a red herring.”
“You’re not going to let this go are you old man?”
“No, Shaundrika, I’m not.”
“Is he talking about what I think he is?”
“If you’re thinking he wants the cyber twins to do a deep dive on Rick McDonnell, then yes, Roberto, he is.”
“Whether you two want to know or don’t makes no difference to me, but I’m going over there.”
“Not without us, you’re not. Roberto? You feel like chauffeuring us to one more place today?”
“Sure, get in.”
Roberto guided his car into the parking lot and parked but left the engine running.
“You two coming?”
“I think I’ll pass. It’s too damn hot, and I’m really loving this A/C right now.”
“Sunny?”
“I think I’m going to hang with Roberto. Just run in, drop your bomb like you always do, and come back. I want to get home. I haven’t seen my kids in almost a week.”
“Suit yourselves.”
This was a routine visit to Manny and Robert’s office. A usual request from one of us for information on a person of interest.
Unfortunately for all of us, the next fifteen minutes were anything but routine. It started when Henry exited the office.
As he stepped off the sidewalk and began to walk toward us, a car’s engine roared into life. Before anyone could react, a car, a sleek black sedan with heavily tinted windows pulled into the lane and accelerated, striking Henry, sending him flying into the air. Not stopping, the car raced across the parking lot, fishtailed onto a nearby street, and disappeared.
By the time we reached him, Henry was motionless.
“Goddamn it, Goddamn it. Henry! Henry! Roberto! Call 911!”
We sat alongside Cynthia waiting for news about her husband, and when the news came it almost took our breath away.
“Ms. James?”
“Yes, that’s me. This is my daughter Shaundrika and her partner, Roberto De La Cruz. We’ll have some other family members arriving shortly.”
The doctor shook his head, a weary look crossing his face as if he was about to deliver some information he knew was not going to be received well.
“Ms. James, I don’t think your family members are going to get here in time. We’re doing everything we can, but I don’t think Henry will be alive much longer…”
“Please.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I really am. Is there someone you can call?”
“Father Brier, mother.”
“Yes, yes, we can call Father Brier.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. James, now if you’ll excuse me.”
Cynthia fell into one of the waiting room chairs as if suddenly all the strength had left her body at one time. She buried her face in her hands and began to weep, and we stared at one another in complete shock. Neither of us would have believed this day could have ended with a good friend, a family member, and a good working companion dying.
But it was happening.
Thank you so much for reading. You didn’t have to, but I’m certainly glad you did.
Let’s keep in touch: Sharon and P.G. Barnett [email protected] © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.
