Fiction

Vengeance From The Grave Part 10

A Henry James And Roberto De La Cruz Series

My name is Henry Allen James, and I’m Roberto De La Cruz, 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

We both pushed away from the Cayenne Turbo as Samual Kingston, holding a set of keys in his hand, approached us. Offering us a cordial salesman’s smile, he shook our hands.

“Good morning, gents. So Charlie said you were looking to purchase one of these, but only from me? Have we met?”

“Don’t believe we have. The name’s Henry, and this is Roberto.”

“Well, Henry and Roberto, I suppose you’d like to take it for a test drive?”

The man depressed a button on the key fob and unlocked the car then opened one of the rear passenger doors and started to slide into the back seat.

“Tell you what Sam. You don’t mind if I call you Sam, right?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay, Sam, why don’t you ride shotgun with Roberto? He’s the one buying this thing. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Sure thing. You’ll find it’s just as comfortable in the back. Plenty of legroom and the seats are so comfortable, trust me, you could easily stretch out and take a nap.”

“I might just do that. Roberto? Wake me when it’s over.”

Samual offered us a disingenuous laugh and slid into the passenger’s side in front. Placing the key fob in a cup holder in the console, he pointed to a button on the dash just to the right of the car’s steering wheel.

“So, Roberto. As long as you have this fob with you, all you have to do is push that button to start it.”

After several attempts to adjust the mirrors to his liking, and with guidance from Sam, adjusting the seat’s positioning, Roberto placed one hand on the steering wheel and pushed the button. The engine of the Cayenne purred into life, and Roberto gazed into the rearview.

“You ready to do this, Henry?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Roberto guided the vehicle off the lot and turned right on an access road adjacent to the highway. Steering the car into a housing subdivision, we let Samual give us the nickel tour of the vehicle’s capabilities, gas mileage, special features, and value adds.

Of course, Sam tried to personalize his sales schtick by asking us a few personal questions, hoping by the end of the ride we’d all be family, holding hands and giving each other hugs.

“So if you don’t mind me asking Roberto, what do you do for a living?”

“I work for a magazine as a journalist. In fact, Henry and I both do. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

“Sure is. You know what Sam? I think I do know you. Weren’t you at one time a coach for the Dukes?”

“I sure was. Roberto, you wanna take her out on the highway? Get a feel for how she handles at higher speeds?”

“Absolutely.”

“To answer your question Henry, I was an assistant coach for the Dukes for over ten years.”

“Wow, so what made you leave coaching?”

Roberto guided the Cayenne onto an access ramp and eased the vehicle into traffic speeding up to stay with the flow.

“Well, I don’t know if you know about the business Henry, but there’s not a lot of money to be made as an assistant coach in professional ball these days.”

“Huh, I would have thought you were making bank on all those side bets you were making against the Dukes over the years.”

One sentence was all it took. Only one and suddenly Samual Kingston’s friendly, car salesman demeanor shifted.

“I don’t know what you mean by that, sir.”

“Sure you do, Sam. You were making bets against the Dukes. You knew all the player’s strengths and weaknesses. You knew when a pivotal player was benched due to injuries and how that would impact the team’s winning average. We’ve already seen your bank accounts.”

“Who the hell are you people?”

“We already told you, Sam. Henry and I work for a magazine. Dark Sides of the Truth. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

At this point, Roberto had steered the Cayenne into the middle lane of the highway and had increased his speed. We figured we now had a captive audience who was going to hear what we had to say whether he liked it or not.

“Never heard of it. You need to get off this highway and turn around. This deal is off.”

“Henry? Sam here has never heard of Dark Sides. Maybe you could help jog his memory.”

“No problem Roberto. Here’s the deal, Sam. Dark Sides is owned by a group named Alexander investments. Does that name sound familiar to you, Sam? You used to coach someone named Alexander, didn’t you, Sam? What was his name? Oh yeah, now I remember. Dante. Dante Alexander. So whatever happened to Dante Sam?”

“I said you need to turn this damn car around now!”

“I think he’s starting to get a little upset with all your questions, Henry. Perhaps I should take it for now.”

“Be my guest Roberto.”

“So, Sam. We know about the two hundred and fifty thousand that went straight to your account a few weeks after Dante disappeared. And now we know it came from an offshore account owned by Dwayne Macy. The same Dwayne Macy, who had Dante Alexander kidnapped, based on the information you provided him.”

“He never said anything about killing him! I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

For several seconds neither of us said anything. As far as we were concerned, this was just the tip of the man’s confessional iceberg.

“All he asked me to do was provide him travel information. It was supposed to be a sweet deal. Macy told me he had his own interests in the man, and between what he paid for the info and what I made on the bet, I had enough to shuck that crappy job and follow my dream.”

“Well, I hope your dream included a life sentence as an accomplice to murder Sam. Because, at this minute, we’re taking this sweet ride of yours to the police. Henry? Did you get all that?”

“Every last admission Roberto. These phones make the best recorders.”

Neither of us would have ever thought a rational human being would act like Sam did that moment, but then based on the evidence we just nailed him with, we should have expected something.

When Sam clutched the steering wheel and yanked it down, our vehicle lurched into the right lane, slammed into a car about to pass, and then overturned and began to roll.

We finally somersaulted to a stop upside down.

As we attempted to unbuckle and crawl out, Sam exited the passenger’s side where the shattered window was supposed to be and then began running down the highway shoulder.

“Ah damn, he had to run, didn’t he?”

“Henry put the gun down.”

“You want him to get away, De La Cruz?”

“Henry, I run at least ten miles a day. I can catch that old man before he knows what’s happening. Follow as best you can, but I guarantee I’ll have him on the ground and be sitting on him before you catch up.”

After securing Samual Kingston, we realized we were going to have to change the plan again. While one of us sat on top of a man dazed by a couple of quick jabs in the face, the other made a call.

“Hey, baby. Yeah, I know, we’re late. A little change of plans. Can the police come to pick us up on interregional? Yeah, right before the cloverleaf heading west. Uh, we had a little car trouble. I know it’s a new car, honey. I’ll tell ya later, just send the police, okay.”

Read On — Vengeance From The Grave Part Conclusion

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