I was going to wait until next month to post this, but I figured this would be the best Christmas gift that I could come up with on such a short notice.
I hope it fits...
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Short Story Thursday, Part Three(Editor's Note: Like before, if you haven't read Part One or Part Two yet, please read them for context before continuing. Also, when writing this part, I didn't stick to the 500-words-or-less rule, so this post will be a little lengthy.)Five hours earlier…“See you on Monday, Boss!” Aubrey called out from the front office. His voice, cracked from years of heavy smoking, was loud enough to carry through the thick walls into Adam Marshall’s back office. Aubrey Greene was Adam’s best friend, project manager, and co-owner of Marshall Construction, the area’s largest commercial and residential construction company. Adam and Aubrey were well known for their television commercials, and they enjoyed being the face of their successful business. After all, it allowed both of them the luxuries and comfort they could once only dream about.
“See you, Aub!” Adam called back. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. He had just turned down Aubrey’s offer to go on a fishing trip to Moosehead Lake. As nice as cold beers and a few days on the lake sounded, the increasing pile of paperwork on his desk demanded his attention. Susan, his assistant and office manager, was out on maternity leave.
“I’ve got to give that woman a raise,” Adam muttered under his breath, and surveyed the mountains of paper in front of him.
I had no idea of the amount of work she takes care of. The clock on the wall chimed loudly, announcing 5 o’clock. Adam carefully placed another handful of documents on the corner of his desk, and turned on a small television in the corner to a local news station for some background noise.
“… Local police are asking for your help tonight, in the search for the leader of the area’s most notorious crime ring, Samuel Bennett. Although Bennett has never been indicted, he has been linked to several high-profile crimes around the state, including the death of Bangor City Council member Stephen Grant.” The video cut from the desk of Lola Diamond, the striking brunette giving the report, to footage of the grisly crime scene. Lola’s voiceover continued, “Grant, who was recently placed on administrative leave pending an investigation of his involvement as an inside member of the crime ring, was found dead in his home last Wednesday. Authorities released a statement earlier today announcing that, based on evidence found inside Grant’s home, Samuel Bennett is their prime suspect in the case. Police are also searching for Danny Joiner, a witness who claim’s he saw Bennett enter Grant’s home shortly before Grant’s estimated time of death. Joiner’s family reporting him missing on Tuesday, when he didn’t return home from work. Those with information about Danny Joiner or Samuel Bennett’s whereabouts are asked to call their local police.”
Adam turned down the volume, yet couldn’t take his eyes from the screen. It went on to show a picture of Danny Joiner, and then switched to footage of Bennett, walking out of the state courthouse after his last appearance. The jury couldn’t convict him on the arson charges, blaming missing evidence and the lack of testimony from key eyewitnesses, who had suddenly refused to take the stand.
I wouldn’t testify against him, either, Adam thought.
Not after the last guy who was supposed to testify ended up having his jaw broken just a day before the trial was supposed to begin. Deciding that the pile of faxes and phone messages could wait until next week, he changed his focus to finishing his latest project proposal so he could get it to the courier before they closed.
Adam jumped, startled, when the phone rang almost an hour later. He picked it up before it reached the third ring.
“Marshall Construction,” Adam said flatly, distracted.
“Hello, this is Deirdre from Eastern Maine Shipping. I’m looking for Adam Marshall.” Country music was playing in the background, and Deirdre seemed to be aggressively filing her nails. Adam winced at both.
“This is he.”
“Mr Marshall, I’m calling to notify you that your shipment has arrived, but due to a logistics conflict, we won’t be able to deliver your shipment to the jobsite as promised.”
Great… A ‘logistics conflict’? I’ve got to change shipping companies.“Okay,” Adam sighed. “The shipment isn’t that large, do you think I can pick it up from your storage facility?”
A pause.
“I suppose you could, Mr Marshall, but to fulfill our agreement we could deliver the shipment as early as Thursday.”
“No, I need the shipment before then. Do you know the dimensions of the package? I need to know what truck to bring.” Adam shuffled through the paperwork on his desk, trying to find the order sheet.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t have that information available. Our storage lot closes soon, so if you want to stop by to make your measurements, I’ll need to give you the gate code.” Deirdre seemed well versed at making that statement.
Adam looked at his watch; it was now just a few minutes past 6:00. “Alright, I’ll do that.”
Finding that goddamned order sheet in this mess just isn’t going to happen until Sus gets back. “What is the gate code?”
“Your shipment is in section two, and the gate code is zero-four-one-seven.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Adam hung up the phone before Deirdre could say anything further. After a long week and a frustrating day trying to find the top of his desk through the paperwork, her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Freshly filed nails, Adam thought with a grimace.
He put the finishing touches to the proposal and sealed it in an envelope. He stood up and switched off the TV, tossing the remote on top of his still unorganized desk. I’ll just have to come in early on Monday to finish this up. Adam patted his front pockets to make sure he had his keys, and then his back pocket for his wallet. He turned off the lights to his office, and pulled the door closed. After making sure the entire building was empty, he set the alarm and exited out the front doors. With a light pull he tested to make sure they were locked and then headed out to the parking lot.
“Hey, Adam!” a friendly voice sang out. Adam turned to see Ellen, the only female employee that worked alongside the rest of the guys at the jobsite, walking toward him. “I was wondering when you were going to leave.”
“Ellen! I’m surprised to see you here so late on a Friday. What were you doing?”
“Oh, I was tinkering around with the engine of that old truck you keep back there for plowing the yard in the winter time. You know, so it actually starts this year,” Ellen said with a smile. The grease stains on her jeans supported her statement.
“That would be nice,” Adam said, and tried to look politely at his watch.
“Doing anything exciting tonight, Boss?” Ellen asked, her eyes glittering, eager. If she was trying to hide the fact she had a crush on him, she was doing so very poorly.
“No, not really. I need to get to the storage lot to measure the shipment that came in so I can pick it up on Monday. There was a problem with something and they can’t deliver it,” Adam said, frustration seeping into his voice. “So, I’m off to drop this off at the courier’s office, and then to the lot. After that, I’m not sure. It’s been a long week.”
Looking hopeful, Ellen said, “Would you like some company? I don’t have anything to do tonight.”
“No,” Adam said quickly. “I’d really like to just get this over with so I can go home.”
Disappointment replaced eagerness, but Ellen tried to hide it.
“Maybe next week, though. When things have slowed down a little.”
“Alright, Boss,” Ellen said, forcing a smile. “See you on Monday.”
“You bet,” Adam said, and walked quickly to his car.
Any other night, Ellen, and I would have said yes. My nights have been awfully lonely, since Grace left. Adam pushed the thought of his recently ex-girlfriend from his mind, and pulled a large key ring out of his pocket. He drove one of the company trucks during the week, but always drove his classic Mustang home on the weekends.
The drive across town to the courier’s office took longer than expected, and the storage lot had been closed for almost two hours by the time Adam arrived. Not wanting to take his Mustang on the pothole-ridden surface inside the gated area, he parked the car outside the gate. The leaves on the ground scraped noisily as the late-November breeze passed through. Adam shivered, and noted that some of the security lights in the lot weren’t on.
Yet another reason to switch companies. This place is a dump.He punched in the gate code on the lighted keypad, and waited for the chain-link fence to rattle open. With a small flashlight from his key chain, he walked into the lot towards the section where Deirdre had promised the shipment to be. Sure enough, the pallet of building supplies stood next to a half-dozen other pallets. He pulled out the invoice taped to the front of the pallet, and committed the dimensions listed to memory.
On his walk back through the lot, Adam tried to tune out all work-related thoughts.
Maybe I should have said yes to Aubrey’s offer to go fishing… As much as I should get some work done at the office this weekend, I think a break would do me some g-A gunshot cut him off mid-thought.
Adam fell to the ground and rolled to his right, hiding in the shadow cast by a large metal shipping container. Another shot rang out, echoing loudly in the cool night. Holding his breath and willing himself to be invisible, Adam reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He got to his feet and walked slowly towards where he thought the shots came from.
Voices carried on the wind as he approached the dimly lit back section of the lot. Adam walked quietly and in the shadows as much as he could, adrenaline surging through him. On the ground a few feet ahead of him, Adam spotted a black leather wallet. He nudged it open with his foot to see whom it belonged to… Danny Joiner.
Silently activating the camera function on his cell phone, Adam continued walking. Closer to the back corner now, he stood in the shadows next to the main building. He could make out the shape of a dark colored sedan. The security light overhead flickered on and off with a slight ticking noise, illuminating the area for a second at a time. Adam counted four people: two men holding a third man by his arms, and the fourth man stood a few feet away from them. He was dressed in a tailored suit and expensive looking shoes. He held in his right hand a large caliber handgun.
“Now I know I said I wasn’t going to hurt you, but you aren’t exactly keeping up on your end of the bargain here, Danny,” said the man holding the gun. He took a step closer, and the man being held by the others cried out in fear. Switching the gun to his left hand, he clamped his right hand over Danny Joiners mouth. “I fired those two warning shots in the air to show you how serious I am. Now, if you don’t start cooperating, I’m going to have to put the next bullet in your chest.” He released his grip on Joiners mouth.
Joiner took in a ragged breath. In the flickering light, Adam could see a dark stain in the man’s crotch. “You guys can go to hell,” he said defiantly. “I’ve already told the cops everything. If you kill me, you’re guaranteed to get life in prison.” He spit out the words as if they burned in his mouth.
“We’ll see about that,” the shooter said with a laugh. He raised the gun up, aimed at Joiner’s chest, and fired. The men holding Joiner let go of his arms, and he slumped to the ground. The shooter pulled a handkerchief from his suit jacket and wiped down the gun. As he handed it to one of the men, he kicked the lifeless arm of Danny Joiner away from him.
“Dump his body in the compactor over there,” he gestured with his thumb, “and throw the gun into the river. Let’s get out of here.” He turned and stared out into the dark lot. Adam thought with a chill that the shooter had noticed him hiding in the shadows. His heart raced even more now, with the murderer gazing into the shadows where he stood.
Just then, the security light above them flicked on, and stayed on. The brilliant light cast by the fluorescent bulb illuminated the lone figure of Samuel Bennett.
Frightened, Adam backpedaled, but slammed into the concrete wall behind him. His elbow hit a bank of light switches, and with a heavy thump the rest of the lights in the lot came on.
Adam stood still, exposed. Bennett squinted through the bright lights, and held up one hand to shade his eyes.
Move, damnit, MOVE! Adam thought to himself, and ran for the gate.
“Get him!” Bennett roared.
Adam was breathless by the time he reached the gate, and the heavy footsteps of his henchmen were close behind him. He climbed the chain-link fence, and stumbled to the Mustang.
A bullet struck the ground just inches from his feet. Another bullet sang in the air above his head as he ducked, grabbing for his keys. He jumped behind the wheel, slamming the door. With his hands shaking, Adam turned the key in the ignition, and the powerful engine roared to life. Punching the accelerator to the floor, he burst out of the parking lot.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the two henchmen standing behind the gate. Bennett was a few yards behind them, running. The taller of the two thugs raised the gun again and fired, but the Mustang was too far out of range.
At the gate now, Samuel Bennett ran his hands through his disheveled hair.
“Did you get the plate number?”
“Yes, Sir, we did. I’ll run the plate and get an address for you right away.”
Bennett placed his hands calmly in his pockets. With an expression that could only indicate pure evil, he turned on his heel and began walking back to the sedan. “Good.”
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Adam’s lungs burned as he pointed the Mustang for home. For the first time in his life, he ignored the posted speed limit and drove as fast as he could.
What did I just get myself into?---Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays!
The players on the field looked like GI Joe-sized, and I had a better view of the game by watching it unfold on the mega-screen at the north end of the stadium. The Patriots played a horrible game despite an excellent start, and totally squandered what could have been an easy win. Even if we hadn't turned the ball over five times, if Randy Moss had caught instead of dropping the passes Cassel threw to him, we might have had a good chance of winning.
