Blood Ties

"I'm severing all blood ties with my nephew..."

"Mr. Garret. Is that what you really want to do, Sir?"

"Lands, I hired you as a lawyer, so do some goddamned lawyering and quit asking stupid questions!"

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

The flames crackled and danced in the huge fireplace of Garret Manor, casting long shadows around the study, but the lamps that adorned the priceless Brazilian Rosewood table provided sufficient light for Jarrod Lands to work. The room itself was quite opulent to say the least. The magnificent green marble mantelpiece and fireplace were from a bygone era. The walls were lined with exquisite hardwood, which made up the bookshelves and were seemingly groaning under the weight of the huge tomes and mountains of books, most of which were either rare antiques or out-of-print. All of the lamps in the room were exotic pieces of work, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold. The only precious metal conspicuously missing was silver, as Garret disliked sterling silver.

Paul Garret was comfortably sprawled in his chair, a cigar in one hand and a glass of 60-year-old cognac in the other. He was idly blowing smoke rings when Lands announced that he had finished a rough draft of the will, incorporating all of Garret's wishes. The most significant part of it was the disownment of the only legitimate heir, Colin Garret Jr., to the vast Garret Empire and its fortunes. It stretched across seven continents, with investments ranging from oil to fruit orchards.

"Don't you want to know why, Lands?" Garret asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Lands was undecided when he stammered, "Well, yes Sir. I am a little curious…"

"Ah yes, 'curiosity killed the cat,' you know!" Garret laughed at his own joke.

In actual fact, there was nothing humorous at all about the whole rewriting of Paul Garret's will. No doubt, Colin Garret Jr. would have something to say about the whole affair if this was known. But the elder Garret kept it hushed up in such a way that Jarrod had thought that he was being kidnapped, especially when two huge men in a black car with dark tinted windows had grabbed and blindfolded him. Little did he know that he was being taken the 'scenic' route back to the manor!

There was a long pause; the only sounds to be heard were the crackling of logs in the hearth and Jarrod sipping his tea.

"Alright, I'll let you know why. Colin was my best friend, you know. Colin Sr. I mean, my brother. It broke my heart to see that all remained of him from the crash were just his socks and a few scraps of his skin. Did you know that I gave those socks to him many Christmas' ago? Colin had thought it a joke, as I did, but he always insisted on wearing those toeless socks... always laughing about them with me whenever he took his shoes off."

Jarrod sat opposite him, face cast downwards and, shuffling his feet slightly, said, "I'm sorry Sir, I don't know what to say. This must be painful for you to talk about."

Garret closed his eyes and, absently toying with the rim of the cognac glass, said, "Hmm, yes... yes... it was and still is, you know."

Quiet reigned in the room; Paul Garret had a faraway look in his eyes as he looked back at the fire burning in the hearth, watching the flames flicker and dance. Unable to stand the oppressive silence, Jarrod Lands prepared to leave the room. He didn't want to break the trance that Paul was immersed in. He gathered up his papers into his briefcase with a minimum amount of noise and time.

A multitude of confused thoughts swirled through Jarrod's mind. would be nice to be able to call a cab and leave this place as soon as possible. He shuddered at the thought of getting a ride from the two men who had brought him here.

Jarrod though that he was able to leave, when Paul suddenly piped breaking the silence, "Colin, you know, is not the man that I knew as a boy. Colin Junior, I mean..."

"I'm not sure that I quite understand, Sir..." Jarrod said, sitting back down.

"He isn't Colin, that's all. I'd have expected to at least see that some 'small' part of him might show up in his progeny, but I feel nothing familiar about him, nothing." Paul confided.

Jarrod could on nod and added, "But Sir, that's not a valid reason at all to exclude him from your will. Please excuse my bluntness."

Paul reassured him, "That's perfectly alright Lands, I appreciate you candidness concerning this matter. You're right, of course. That's not the reason for changing my will, neither is it from the fact that Colin Jr. is by definition, a 'prodigal son.' It has nothing to do with his 'womanizing' either, although God only knows how many children have been born out of wedlock from his promiscuity. No. None of these reasons will hold up under logical scrutiny."

Taking a long sip of cognac, Paul continued, "The real reason I'm excluding Colin from my will is simple, it’s..."

The telephone interrupted Paul in mid speech and he went to answer it.

Jarrod heard Paul say, "Yes? Yes. I understand. See you then."

Putting the receiver back in its cradle, Paul looked at Jarrod and said, "I've to bid you a goodnight and farewell, Mr. Lands. Please have your secretary invoice me the additional amount for inconveniencing you this evening. Good night, Mr. Lands."

Jarrod was abruptly ushered out of the study, only to be confronted by one of large men that had brought him here.

"Mr. Lands, the car is ready and waiting for you," he said aloud, appearing not to notice that Jarrod was standing right before him.

Jarrod took a final glance at Paul Garret as the door to the study was being closed. It seemed to signify the end of a chapter with one of the most profitable and generous clients that he had ever had. On the ride home in the pouring rain, he could not help but feel uneasy, especially at the reaction of Colin Garret when he found out what the elder Garret had done.

Colin was a big man and a good six inches taller than Jarrod’s small 5' 10" frame. He had heard that Colin constantly worked out at the gym, while Jarrod's daily exercise only consisted of walking up ten flights of stairs to his small, cluttered office.

Moreover, he had also heard rumors that Colin had various dealings with some criminal organizations. Quite simply, one fine day, Jarrod just may find out that all the rumors were true. It WAS a very scary thought indeed!

After a long, uneventful and wordless ride, the black limousine deposited Jarrod off at his one-bedroom apartment. The storm was not showing any signs of abating, so he quickly got undressed and snuggled under the warm blankets. He lay there for a long while, unable to sleep.

The uneasiness crept into his mind from the thought of living in another state under a pseudonym. At least that was more preferable than constantly having to look over his shoulder for an attempted assassination of his life. It was very late when he finally rid himself of the tangled images of guns, black masked men and beautiful women.

Jarrod woke up to the soft patter of rain on the windowpanes. The skies were still overcast, prophesizing what the rest of the day would be like.

The headline ran in a small column on the 6th page in the morning newspaper.

The rest of the article was becoming unreadable as a shocked Jarrod spilled the entire glass of OJ onto the paper. The running of the ink was faster than he could clean it up. It certainly was not an everyday event to have been the last person to have been seen and speaking with a man who was now considered murdered. Jarrod suspected that he was most probably right on top of the list of murder suspects right now!

In light of the fact that Paul Garret had owned that particular newspaper, instead of a short obituary, it was a full length article. Paul Garret had not been a philanthropist, neither had he been a contributor to any museums. He was not even a well-known socialite, but he had been renowned as a very wealthy recluse. Some, including Jarrod himself, would use the term, 'filthy rich.'

Jarrod quickly switched the radio on, but there was no news concerning the murder. He then tuned in to his usual station and his favorite announcer was on the air. In Jarrod’s mind at least, he felt that a major event such as what he had just read in the newspaper was not considered newsworthy as yet by the radio stations.

Even in his small, cold apartment, Jarrod's palms were sweating profusely. Clenching and unclenching his fists while holding the newspaper was not helping him to think straight. He kept saying to himself, 'There must be some mistake.' Death was not a joke, and Jarrod did not think of Mr. Garret as being the type to report a fake death, let alone, his own.

Jarrod did not notice the fact that he was wearing different socks when he rushed out of his apartment to his office. Neither did he notice that his shirt was inside out, or that his boxer shorts had not been washed since the previous week. Everything was a blur, including the throngs of people on their way to work as he passed them by in the street. He scarcely even contemplated the ten flights of stairs to his office. Jarrod was quirky in the fact that he mistrusted elevators.

His head was still foggy from the news that he did not notice that the office door was slightly ajar. Jarrod just needed lots of coffee, his resolution of cutting down on caffeine was easily forgotten, not to mention the pack of cigarettes a day that he had been smoking and had tried to cut down on. But today was different, he was under a lot of stress and the last thing on his mind at this moment in time was his health of all things.

Jarrod’s jaw dropped open when he finally came to his senses and saw the condition of his office. It had been ransacked; torn papers were strewn all over the place, including his precious and eminently expensive law books. The office was unrecognizable as his eyes took in the scene before him. All the cabinets containing his files had been thoroughly searched, the locks having been easily broken.

This was an office block with security guards, but Jarrod’s office did not have the newfangled security equipment or locks that were the norm. It was not that Jarrod was being miserly, but this small town boy from upstate New York was far from being rich. Jarrod had just started his practice and was elated when Garret had contacted him. him. He was only recently been able to pay off all those expensive law books. And now with his 'benefactor's' demise, his financial situation that had just gone from bad to worse!

The small truncheon made a crunching noise as it hit the back of his neck. Jarrod was able to get a glimpse of his attacker as he turned around in shock before falling to the floor. As darkness overtook all of Jarrod's consciousness, he saw the smile behind the even and white teeth of a slim guy, wearing a baklava mask...

He was sitting on top of the world, the world as he saw it. He was wealthy, and damn all those who say that he is filthy rich, he thought. So what? It was all just jealousy from the 'scum of the slums,' as one of his friends had put it. He could not care less, now that he was rated at the top of the Forbes' List as one of the richest people in the world.

Colin just smiled at the opportunities that lay ahead. The reading of the will had been done early that morning, well before the funeral service was conducted. Colin had insisted on it and he was not disappointed. Mr. Fryer, his deceased uncle's head lawyer had the honor of presenting him as the sole heir of the vast Garret Empire. There would inevitably be numerous board meetings that Colin would have to attend, but for the moment, his attention was firmly fixed on enjoying his uncle’s wealth.

In fact, that very evening onboard his private yacht, theCoventina, a party was planned for a select few of his friends. Of course, none of the Board of Directors would be invited. It was to be just a small dinner party, with wine and dancing... hopefully with a frolic or two, or even threesomes, in one of the yacht’s expansive bedrooms.

"We hereby consign this body back to earth from whence it came... Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust..."

"Psst, Colin, are you checking out that hot babe in the corner, the one who is standing just behind Laurie?" a soft voice nudged Colin out of his reverie.

He just smile, but said nothing in response. He had already scrutinized her the moment she walked into his sight, just behind the congregation following the casket. She was pretty, with dimple knees, as far as her black skirt would allow him to notice. Her cheeks were dimpled as well, and he wondered. Colin wondered throughout the funeral service which other parts of her body were dimpled!

"Mr. Paul Garret was a fine man and an astute businessman..." Laurie's voice droned on and on, and on, in his eulogy. It was going straight in one of Colin's ears and out the other.

"I wonder who she could be?" he mused, seeming to be speaking more to himself than anyone else.

"I suppose that since your uncle owned so many companies, she could have been one of his secretaries. I could ask around discreetly?..."

"Yes, you’re probably correct," Colin replied.

Sandra Keese had volunteered to come to the funeral as a representative of the radio station that she worked for. Paul Garrett owned, correction, had owned their radio station, buying it years before while it was still struggling.

She had only been a receptionist then, when Mr. Garrett had bought the company. Garret guided them out of their fledgling status and into the ranks of the big boys. She herself had Mr. Garrett to thank for her current status as a radio player, a fact she was thankful for every day. Sadly Mr. Garrett was now deceased and she was here to pay her respects.

Mr. Laurie finished his eulogy and moved back to take his place behind Sandra. She offered him a tremulous smile and gently squeezed his hand in sympathy. He took out his handkerchief and dabbed his tear brimmed eyes.

"That was a fine speech, Mr. Laurie," she whispered encouragingly to him, and he responded with a weak smile.

"Yes. Well, he will be missed, my dear. He had a head for business that was only matched by his brother," he whispered.

"Is that his son over there?" Sandra nodded slightly in the direction of Colin and his friend, still conversing together. Their slightly inaudible words during the eulogy had drawn her attention to them.

Mr. Laurie shook his head and looked down, concentrating on folding his handkerchief before replying, "No, regretfully, that is his nephew, Colin Garret Jr. Quite an unsavory sort, if you ask me."

He stopped abruptly when he saw that Sandra was looking up at him in shock.

Laurie looked toward her and said, "My apologies, my dear. I didn’t mean to speak ill of him."

Sandra nodded and momentarily turned her attention back to the voice of the next speaker, but her eyes seemed to be drawn back to the handsome, smiling face of Colin Garret Jr., nephew of the late Paul Garret.

For the moment, the entire afternoon was taken up with the crowd of sympathizers. Most were faking it, their countenances betraying their thoughts. Even Colin Jr. himself had the same look, not to mention the few who held an undisguised look for his newfound status and wealth.

When the service was over with, Sandra made her way with everyone else in attendance to offer her condolences to the grieving heir. A sudden spasm of shyness hit her as she stepped up to him, and she lifted her eyes no further than his chin. Her eyes flew up to his in surprise as a shock ran through her body like lightning when he gripped her hands as she offered her condolences.

Colin could not but notice her presence, heading behind all those faceless dressed-in-black fake mourners. She was wearing a pretty hat, and the little trails of golden curls that cascaded down the sides and front seemed to make her stand out like a golden sunflower in the sea of black that surrounded her. There was one golden lock in particular that he longed to flick back with his fingertips, the one that hung just above her eyes.

The young woman had not dared look him straight in the eyes when she finally stood before him. Her actions were unexpected. Colin's dark, brown eyes bored straight into hers, unblinking.

The young woman had dared not look him straight in the eyes when she finally stood before him. Notwithstanding shy demeanors, her actions were unexpected. Especially her reaction when she lifted her head as his hands clasped hers. Colin's dark, brown eyes bored straight into hers, unblinking. He was not sure which emotions were running through him as they touched, was it cold shivers or a warm flush? He felt as if they were lost in their own little 'cocoon' and the rest of the crowd was non-existent.

He spoke, "Good afternoon, I'm Colin Garret. Thank you so much for coming, Miss...uh?"

"Sandra Keese. Miss Keese." She emphasized the word 'Miss,' as a signal to a predator like Colin Garret.

Colin bowed his head as he replied, "So, you're the famous Sandra Keese. The one that I am always hearing about, especially from Mr. Laurie. I'm honored to finally meet you, Miss Keese."

Sandra's smile was like her hair, bright and dazzling. Although he had no idea who she was or which division she worked for, he was sure that did not matter to her, or himself.

He leaned forward to smell her wonderful perfume and whispered confidentially into her ear, "Miss Keese, I'd be honored if you would be so kind as to join me this evening on board my yacht, theCoventina, on pier 31. I'm having a small get-together, nothing big. A dinner and drinks among friends. Your presence will no doubt warm my heart after these dreadful and painful couple of days. May I pick you up at say, 7 tonight?"

"Sure." Was all Sandra could stammer. Colin Garret was not what she had expected so far, but his invitation seemed to be a prelude to her career expansion. Opportunity was knocking and she was taught by her mother to always open the door when opportunity knocks.

"Hey, Jarrod. It's good to see you finally coming to. I was beginning to wonder if you'll ever wake up, from that nasty bump on your head." The voice sounded familiar, with a trace of amusement.

"What...!" Jarrod had lost track of where he was, why he was being addressed to, and in general, what the hell had happened.

"Here... A cup of coffee and some ice for the swelling..." The amusement was gone from the other voice as Jarrod slowly opened his eyes.

"Andy?"

"None other buddy."

The groans from Jarrod could not have been very pleasant to hear, even to himself. The coffee and the ice helped, but not by much. The throbbing in his head just refused to go away, and he knew that he needed lots of aspirin to go with the coffee. There were none in the office, that much he was sure of. He did not think that Detective Andrew Conrad carried any in his pockets either. Andy and Jarrod go way back, back to when Jarrod first moved to New York after college. Andy was his neighbor then. Now, Andy lived in a much larger and better place in the block opposite Jarrod's.

"What the hell happened? And how did you get here?"

"I was hoping that you'd tell me, old buddy. I was returning to the precinct, when I got a call of a break in. An anonymous call. I woke up late this morning and was heading to work, so I took it. And when I got here, I found you lying on the floor in what used to be your clean and organized office."