Fashionably Late (For My Funeral) Pt. 03

"It was made to look as if he wanted to be sure that he killed himself when he pulled the trigger. The rifle was set on automatic and the whole magazine passed through his head. There was nothing left."

"What whoever did it was hoping would happen was that it would appear as if, at least initially, that it was me that was dead. When it was discovered that it wasn't the dead me they would assume, and with some justification, that I had killed him and set it so that it looked as if he had committed suicide after throwing Melissa from the balcony of our apartment. It was made to implicate me because the bad guys knew that I was involved with him and that we had a falling out over that involvement."

"The media has also made much of the fact that Melissa was two months pregnant. What has made matters worse for me is that, somehow they have found out that I am sterile and that has added another dimension to the story. My reluctance to come forward isn't helping my cause but in my letter to Ruiz I have asked for police protection to be in place before I even think about going back."

"He doesn't know where you are does he? How is he to contact you?"

"Now this is the clever part, I have to be able to get a message from him without him knowing where I am so I have arranged for him to place an advertisement in the New York Times. If he has been able to get protection the ad will read 'Personal protection dog for sale, has preference for single owner.' If he hasn't been able secure protection the ad will read 'For sale insecure dog looking for owner willing to provide a loving environment.' The ad will run for three days starting from tomorrow and I'm to wait until the third day before I act on them because the first ad could be for the insecure dog while the third can be for the personal protection dog."

"So we have four days together."

"Yes. And I, for one, am going to make the most of the opportunity." I rolled over facing her and reached for her body. I liked the way that she responded, with great passion, and we were soon making love again.

Four days of sun and sex, bliss. Sendi was given the time away from shooting so that we were not interrupted for the entire four days. Each day we would walk to the nearby village and buy a copy of the New York Times, they had them brought in for the film crew, and looked firstly at the classifieds and then at the latest reports on the police investigation. These reports made interesting reading and I kept a mental note of the developments, figuring that one day I could incorporate them into one my novels, they were that unbelievable.

The one thing that was clear was that the real criminals were not being investigated and it was with some surprise and trepidation that I saw the personal protection dog ad in the fourth day's paper. If the real bad guys weren't being investigated then there was still some danger.

Sendi had to stay behind after I left to finish the film shoot but said that she would go to our, doesn't that sound great, our house in Maine and I would meet her there as soon as I could.

I rang Ruiz from San Francisco telling him that I was flying into New York on an American Airlines flight due to land at Kennedy at around seven that evening. He agreed to meet me there. I caught a different flight to Chicago and rented a car from Hertz and drove into New York.

I went to our, Melissa and my, apartment and rang Ruiz. "Where the hell did you get to?"

"I chose a different route just in case there is a leak in your department and I had a welcoming committee waiting for me at Kennedy. You didn't by any chance see any goons waiting for me did you?"

"No, I was not aware of anyone. You don't trust anyone do you?"

"Well they went to a lot of trouble fitting me up for the death of James and Melissa didn't they?"

"Yes. When can you come in? I need to talk to you desperately."

"I can be there in thirty minutes."

I wasn't there in thirty minutes, or thirty hours for that matter.

They must have had someone keeping watch over the apartment building because I had a reception committee of three waiting for me as I left. I found myself elsewhere, where that elsewhere was I wasn't sure, but I was sure of several things, it was dirty, smelly, cold, damp and extremely uncomfortable. My hosts didn't make it any more comfortable, they were a persistent lot, asking me the same question over and over again. "Where's the money?"

My answer, until I was in no condition to answer, was the same, "I don't know." I wonder why they didn't believe me.

I was thrown onto a bed that had seen better day's centuries ago and a smelly blanket was thrown over me. I didn't sleep, appearances to the contrary, I was unconscious until I started to regain my senses and then they rebelled and the pain took command and I lay on the bed tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity.

Daybreak, at least I assumed it was daybreak. The light in the room turned from black to bleak, there was movement outside the door and eventually an alleged woman came in with a plate of reject slops from the local piggery. She smiled her broken toothed grin at me and proceeded to force the crap through my teeth with a plastic spoon. It was all that I could do to stop myself throwing up all over her.

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Do you now? What if I was to tell you that there ain't no bathroom here?"

"Then I'll just have to crap on the floor. Where would you like me to do it?"

"Can you hold it for a minute." She got up and left the room to return a few minutes later with this huge thug. "Primo here will take you to the bathroom. Don't even think of trying anything stupid."

I was led, not too gently from behind, to a small, somehow smellier room that contained Mr. Crapper's prototype toilet pan sitting amid a clutter of rubbish and auto parts, this room was obviously multi-purpose. Gingerly I sat on the bowl, there wasn't a seat to sit on, and the porcelain was freezing cold. I didn't stay long. I pulled the chain and this brown liquid slurped around the bowl and disappeared slowly around the 'S' bend. So much for mod cons.

Leading me back to the torture chamber the goon was positively sociable, "You'd better tell them what they want to know, they'll beat it out of you otherwise." With a gentle push that propelled me to the far corner of the room he left me to the devices of my hosts.

A hospitable looking bunch they were. The leader was a small, dapper looking man of Southern European origin who chain smoked Havana cigars. The interrogator was a much larger person of similar origin to the leader who sat in the chair in front of me cracking his knuckles threateningly. The back-up interrogator was a slim, smartly dressed woman who leant with what looked to be contrived nonchalance against a part of the wall that she had wiped as clean as possible with a cloth.

For good measure there was a third man, a huge man of indeterminate origin who had the look of a rather stupid gorilla and a vocabulary to match. I realized that, one way or another, I was in for an interesting time of it. I was hauled to my feet and a rope tied to the rope around my wrists and thrown over a convenient beam, I was left hanging with my feet an inch off the floor.

"We are about to start where we left off last night. Where is the money?"

"I don't know." This answer was followed by a sound that is hard to write, but it went something like 'hhunffuuh', as the fist slammed once more into my stomach.

"Once again, where's the money?"

"I don't know. Hhunffuuh!"

"We can keep this up all day. Where's the money?"

"I can keep this up for as long as you." This of course was a huge bluff. I had seen movies where the hero, a six pack for abs, gets the crap beaten out of him and he not only remains conscious, but is able to free himself and take out anything up to six fit and healthy thugs in the process. Let me tell you right up front, this is total crap, it takes a long time to recover from even a moderate beating, and that's when you're fit. Fit is one thing I'm not. My idea of exercise is to leave the remote control on top of the television. "I tell you, I don't know, hhunffuuh!"

This was starting to get a little boring. "Where's the money?"

"I don't know, hhunffuuh!"

"I'll put the question differently, the money, where have you hidden it?"

"I'll answer differently, I know not where it is, hhunffuuh!"

"Let me try Boss." The back-up interrogator asked. Just the look on her face filled me with fear and trepidation, I had a feeling that this was going to get ugly.

"See what you can do."

She moved in front of me unbuckled my belt and opened the zipper of my trousers, they hit the floor, followed in rapid succession by my shorts. Taking my penis in her hand she held it an inch from her face. I couldn't see this but I could feel her breath on it and then I felt the tip of her tongue. Given a different time and place what she did next might have pleased me, but in this time and this place, and in this context, I was utterly terrified.

She took my penis in her mouth and began to work on it with her lips and tongue. In spite of my resolve not to allow anything to happen, it slowly stood erect. She pulled her head back and it left her mouth with a pop. "Now, if you don't tell us where the money is I will bite your dick off." To re-enforce her threat she took it back in her mouth and her teeth applied pressure to the base of my penis.

"I don't know where it is." More pressure. "I still can't help you." Even more pressure, it was starting to hurt but I wasn't going to give in. "I don't know where it is, believe me, if I did I would tell you."

She spat my penis out. "I believe him."

"You're sure?"

"I'm as sure as I can be. Can I finish this?"

"Go ahead." I had this horrible feeling that if I managed to survive this experience Sendi would have to make do with a prosthesis. I was wrong. "This is her reward." The thug told me. Melissa had given me what I had heard termed a 'blow job' but expert as she appeared to be, she had nothing on this one. It would have taken the will power of a celibate saint not to respond to her ministrations and I wasn't one of those. I heard "Mmmm," from her after she had brought me to a climax, followed by the sound if it leaving her mouth. I wasn't home free just yet.

"Allow me." The big thug wanted the opportunity to show that he was better than the more subtle methods of his female counterpart. He reached up and took my little finger in his huge hand and started bending it back with his finger on the top of the knuckle. It hurt heaps. It broke easily but I didn't feel the pain because I had lost consciousness somewhere between badly bent and broken.

I came around slowly. I looked around me to find the room deserted. I was relieved but relief is a sometime thing. The goons returned and my pain returned shortly after. It wasn't long before my consciousness left me again.

I was getting sick of this and vowed that if I was to ever get away from this I would exact my revenge in a most painful way.

I read once that homeless men sometimes slept in dumpsters. I wouldn't recommend them as a form of accommodation. They were smelly and often crawling with all sorts of obscure creepy crawlies, and they had this habit of being emptied at odd times on a semi-regular basis. I was just regaining my senses when I heard this monster truck roar to a stop right next to the dumpster Hilton. I just managed to scramble out before the forks picked it up and loaded its contents onto the truck.

It was daylight, I didn't know which daylight it was because I had lost all track of time. I staggered out into the street and looked around me for a public phone. Just as I was about to use it I realized that I had no money, I had been cleaned out, not that I had a lot.

I got my bearings and walked slowly and painfully down the street towards the 5th Precinct and some sort of safety. I must have looked a treat because the wonderful people of New York City reached out to help me in my time of distress, like Hell! They, as one, avoided me like the plague. As I shuffled along the streets I was aware that everyone that I met along the way had gone out of his or her way to avoid me, stepping from the pavement onto the road, crossing the street to return after I'd passed.

It got no better at the Precinct, my reception was not what I was used to. As I walked past the desk I was challenged, "What do you want ya no-good bum?"

"I'm here to speak to Captain Ruiz."

"Does he know you?"

"It's me, Jason Feldham." Recognition came slowly for him. His expression went through the whole range from studious, hard for him, to friendly, a little easier.

"What are you doing in those filthy clothes? Don't tell me, you are researching a novel about the bums that live in the subway and you wanted to blend in."

"Whatever. Can I go in now?"

Ruiz was not happy to see me. "Where have you been? You said that you would be here in half an hour over thirty hours ago and what is that smell?"

"I believe that it's called Eau du Dumpster. I don't know where I have been or how long I've been there, you say I was missing for over thirty hours then I suppose that they had me for that time. I have been beaten and tortured yet again. They are getting desperate for their money."

"I'm not surprised. The word on the streets is that the deal they have with the suppliers is that because you wanted out several investors are getting cold feet. They are losing faith in Costanzo's ability to deliver the promised returns and are threatening to follow your example. Guess what? Costanzo is running around trying to cover his ass before they pull out, He needs to get your money back so that he can reassure the others that all will be sorted and their investment is safe. If they don't have the money the shipment will be split up and sold to the highest bidders and they could lose out on the entire deal. No wonder they are running around madly trying to find out what happened to the money. James was supposed to have given it to you then ripped it back from you and paid it back to his partners. That didn't happen because of you."

"So what happens now?"

"We keep you in protective custody while the DA puts together his case. After the trial we can relocate you to anywhere that you want and you can start a new life for yourself."

"I hope that when you say protective custody you don't mean that I will be sharing some sleazy cell with one of the low-life's that you have as a guest."

"I have taken it on myself to put you up at my place. Phoebe can look after you."

We talked for a couple of hours while he tried to piece together the whole scenario. It was a painstaking operation and there were a number of stops for coffee along the way. After we had finished Ruiz took me to a nearby emergency room where my finger was set in a splint and wrapped in an enormous bandage. It looked most impressive.

Phoebe opened the door as Ruiz slid the key into the lock. She was even more beautiful than when I had first seen her at the bar. "Honey this is Jason Feldham the man who has thrown the cat amongst the pigeons. He will be staying here with us until after the trial."

I would have shaken her hand but for the bandage on my right little finger that didn't quite stop the throbbing pain I was feeling in that hand. "I am very pleased to meet you." I was. I felt safe with these two, I had built up a trust and respect for Ruiz, he was one of the straightest and most competent policemen that I have ever met and, if what he told me about Phoebe was even half true, she wouldn't be any less straight.

"I've seen you in the bar with James, haven't I?"

"I was with him a couple of times, yes."

"I almost felt sorry for him you know. He was stupid to get himself in as deeply as he did, but he didn't have to go along with what they wanted him to do. You stirred up a lot of agro, you know that, don't you know." Ruiz said.

"Would you like a coffee or maybe something a little stronger?"

"Do you have any local anesthetic?'

"The best that we can do is a beer."

"That will do fine." It did. I can't remember what brand it was, but it tasted great.

Phoebe had prepared us a feast. "How do both of you stay skinny with all of this food?"

"This is a special occasion." Phoebe said, "We have been working on this case for the best part of two years and you have achieved more in the short time that you've been involved than we have in all of that time. So this calls for a celebration. Now I can't do you champagne and caviar but I'm a damn good cook and, on certain occasions, beer tastes just as good as champagne."

"This is definitely one of those occasions. Do you have another, I intend to get numb to pain tonight."

"I don't blame you." She got me another beer and we set about tackling the meal in earnest. It consisted of a sort of stew that had a lot of beans and chilli in it that we ate with tortillas and a fresh green salad. There was a Hispanic influence to the meal that I enjoyed and the ingredients were mostly fresh and more flavorful than the heavily processed junk that I had been used to in my single days. While Melissa and I were together we went to many high class restaurants that provided ethnic cuisine from all over the world, but nothing compared to this simple meal.

I slept on the sofa. Well I didn't so much as sleep as close my eyes and lie as quietly as possible. I could hear the others talking on the other side of the thin wall but couldn't hear what they were saying.

I must have eventually dropped off to sleep because the next thing I knew was that someone was fussing about in the kitchen. I sat up to see Ruiz making breakfast. "Oh hi, sorry to disturb you. Breakfast is my thing. Because Phoebe is often working late I have been given the breakfast shift and I'm good at it. What would you like? We have coffee and donuts from the stall down the road, cereal from the supermarket, or, if you are a health nut you can have fresh fruit and yoghurt."

"Just coffee will be fine. How much did I drink last night?"

"Obviously not enough, you took forever to get to sleep." I wondered how they could have known that, but let it slide.

"I am in pain, I don't think that anyone in the medical profession has ever damaged a finger or else they would have given me something stronger to kill the pain. I think that I'll have to go to a drug store and get something for it."

"You're not going anywhere. If you need anything Phoebe can get it for you. You are not to leave the house unless one of us is with you."

"Yes boss."

Phoebe walked slowly into the room still looking tired but beautiful. She walked over to Ruiz and kissed him. "'Good morning my Darling." She poured herself a mug of coffee and leant against the cupboard cupping it in her hands for warmth.

"Mornings aren't her best time of the day."

"They wouldn't be yours if your body clock was used to the hours that I've been keeping lately."

"What's happening about you other job at the bar?"

"I had a blazing row with the manager and told him to shove his job up his arse. He said that I would never work in the industry again and I told him that I had an offer from Vegas so there! We are still good friends."

"Phoebe is on leave as of a couple of days ago and she will stay out of sight for as long as it takes to re-establish a cover for her. She will be of no use to us until then."

"Do you enjoy this type of work?"

"It sure as hell beats working Times Square busting whores and pimps."

"And the danger doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it does. I'm not a robot, I have feelings like most other people and I admit to being scared shitless on a number of occasions."

"Have you ever thought about giving it up?"