Fiction
Two Before The Wedding Part 10
A Sunny Alexendar-Johnson And Henry James Series
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
It’s not typically our style to show up at the offices of Dark Sides until closer to nine in the morning. And yet, here we were, standing in the breakroom at six on a Wednesday morning, yawning, rubbing our eyes, and desperately waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.
“You didn’t sleep well, Johnson?”
“No, Henry, these babies are kicking the hell out of me. I couldn’t find a comfortable position. Tossed and turned all night. Robert finally had to bed down in one of the spare bedrooms. You?”
“Not worth a damn. Probably kept Cynthia up half the night. Finally got up and spent the rest of the night going over my notes in the den. Must have finally passed out, cause Cynthia woke me at four when she got up to get ready.”
When the coffee finished brewing, we poured ourselves a cup and headed back to the bullpen. Neither of us had logged on yet, and we sat facing one another in silence, sipping, and thinking.
“It’s this story, isn’t it Henry?”
“Yeah. I keep asking myself a whole bunch of whys.”
“Whys?”
“Yeah, princess whys. Like why would this fixer dude put Sterling in contact with an assassin for hire and then get us involved to stop the hit? Why does Sterling want to have Angela killed? Why only five days? Why is the day after tomorrow so damned important?”
“Let’s tackle this like we always do old man. From the top. Okay, what if this fixer dude as you call him isn’t someone who fixes a problem with an assassination. What if he’s one of those Bruce Wayne Batman dudes who leads a double life and is on the side of fixing the wrongs in this world.”
“Bruce Wayne Batman dude? You and Robert been streaming The Dark Knight on Netflix again, princess?”
“Bite me, James. You know what I mean.”
“I do, and that’s entirely possible. So you’re telling me you think somehow through a chain of people who know people who know people Sterling made contact with the fixer. Now, the fixer is using us to spring the trap.”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds like a whole bunch of cloak and dagger bullshit to me.”
“Maybe it is Henry. But whoever this fixer guy is my guess is he wants to remain anonymous and do what he does in the shadows where nobody can see him.”
“I need more coffee; you need a refresh?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
After hooking up again in the bullpen with fresh coffee we resumed sipping and thinking and staring at each other waiting for pieces of this puzzle to snap into place.
“Okay, Sunny riddle me this. Why is Angela the target?”
“You heard what Charlie Ruiz said. The deal with Ashton Wheaton Homes would fall apart if not for Angela.”
“Yeah, I heard him, but come on Sunny, that’s bullshit. What if Angela decided to walk or got fired? Don’t you think Ashton Wheaton would find a way to keep the deal alive?”
“Probably, but who the hell else could it be?”
“I honestly haven’t got a clue, but whoever it is they’re somehow connected to Brentwood, and I have to agree with you, Angela seems to be the most likely target.”
“Wait a minute. Hang on just a damned minute.”
“What are you doing, Johnson?”
“I’m dragging out my notes. Give me a second. Okay, our conversation with Bartley and Sterling. Remember what Sterling said?”
“About what? I’m not a freaking mind reader here.”
“What he said about the guy sitting on the planning commission.”
“Daryl Thompson?”
“Exactly. Daryl Thompson. Sterling made it sound like Thompson would be the swing vote for the deal to go to Ashton Wheaton Homes instead of being awarded to Bartley’s Manufacturing.”
“So, if Thompson’s out of the way…”
“Then Bartley’s Manufacturing gets the contract for sure.”
“And the best way to get to Thompson is through Angela Bartley who has a strong business relationship with the man.”
“All the shooter has to do is follow Angela around; note all the times she and Thompson meet, pick the best place, and…”
“Bam, problem solved.”
“Oh my God, Henry, we’ve been following the wrong target.”
“Maybe so, but our screw up may have been the best thing we could have done.”
“How so?”
“If we hadn’t, we would never have stumbled on the shooter, we wouldn’t be watching his every move, and we wouldn’t have finally figured out the real target.”
“So, what are we going to do with all this speculative information?”
“Not a damned thing.”
“Henry? Have you lost your mind? Somebody’s going to get their head blown off, and you want to sit there and drink coffee?”
“I’ve got a plan.”
“You know I hate it when you say shit like that, right?”
“Listen, Johnson. We still need to know one more thing, and I’m willing to bet everything hinges on this one tiny bit of information.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What?”
“Why five days? Why did the fixer only give us five days? What’s supposed to happen this Friday so damned important?”
“Look, it’s seven-thirty. Let’s fire up and do some work then call Angela around eight. Maybe Henry, just maybe she can tell us.”
At precisely eight on the dot, each of us reached for our respective phones to call Angela Bartley.
“Uh, don’t you think it would be better if just one of us called and we put her on speakerphone?”
“One of us is calling, princess. You snooze, you lose. Yes, Angela Bartley, please. Angela? Hey, this is Henry. I’m fine, thanks for asking. Look, I know Sunny and me showing up and dumping all that on you yesterday was quite a bit to handle. Yeah, heard that. Well, we’re sorry, anyway. Maybe after all this is over, we can hook up for a nice dinner or something. Sure, that’ll be great. Sunny loves Johnson’s diner. Oh, before I forget, what are you doing this Friday? Oh really. Is it happening this Friday? Okay, maybe sometime next week then. Sure, we’ll talk to you later, Angela. Take care. Bye.”
We sat there in silence one of us smirking the other glaring and because the bullpen was starting to fill up with writers each of knew it would be unlikely blood would be spilled. At least not in the bullpen.
“Johnson’s? Really Henry? You know I hate that place.”
“Wow, just like that, you’ve forgotten why we called her in the first place.”
“Oh yeah, what’s so important about this Friday?”
“This Friday, the city planning commission makes their decision and announces the award.”
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.”
“Whoa princess, slow your roll. What just got your knickers in a twit?”
“Dammit, old man, don’t you remember anything?”
“Uh, no, that’s why I learned to take notes.”
“Angela is meeting with Thompson tomorrow at that coffee shop we checked out.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I’ve got it right here in my notes.
“She said, and I quote, I’m meeting Daryl Thompson at our usual place the day before. I need one last conversation with him to seal the deal. Then you said, “Usual place?” And Angela replied, “Yes, Henry. There’s a coffee shop Daryl and I have been meeting at. It’s close to his offices and Brentwood. A perfect place for a rendezvous.”
“Damn, girl, we’ve got less time than we thought. This shit is going down tomorrow. Come on.”
“Where to?”
“Call Angela and tell her to stay put until we get there. For this plan to work, everybody has to play their part.”
“Oh, dear Lord.”
“Come on, Johnson, give me some credit here. What’s the worst…”
“Shut up, Henry. Just stifle it.”
Read On — Two Before The Wedding Part 11
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