Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Two Opposing Views


Back to our story, Dead As A Girdle.



Chapter Seventeen


“Nellie!” Sherry’s voice squealed over the phone. “I can’t believe you got stuck in the elevator with your handsome, single, eligible boss! And then he took you out to dinner? How cool is that?”
Janelle hugged her knees as she cradled the phone against her shoulder. The table lamp beside the wingback chair cast a soft yellowish glow in the corner of her dad’s study.
Thankfully, Dad was out of town.
“I still can’t believe it, Sherry.”
“So, do you think anything is going to happen?”
“Happen?” Janelle drew her brows down. “Do you mean—”
“Marriage!” Sherry laughed. “Is Ben Thorne the one?”
Janelle gave a happy sigh. “I don’t know. But I sure wouldn’t mind being Mrs. Ebenezer Jedadiah Thorne III.”
“He sounds wonderful—a Christian who’s a nice guy and a real gentleman, too.”
“Yeah.” Janelle closed her eyes. “He’s just the kind of man I want for a husband, Sherry. The kind of man I’ve been praying for.”
“Well, you helped me pray for my man, so now I’ll help you pray for yours.”
Was Ben Thorne the one? But the murderer was still at large, and Ben would be distracted until the case was solved. “I hope he’s looking for a wife, Sherry. He said he enjoyed our evening, but I wonder what he’s thinking right now.”
* * *
         These guys are going to kill me!
Ben sat on the backseat of his BMW, sandwiched between two men. Both wore black overcoats, sunglasses, and fedora hats—like gangsters out of an old 1940s B-movie. The man on the right pointed a revolver at Ben.
Outwardly stalwart, Ben looked from one to the other. Inwardly, he was quaking and praying for a divine miracle. “What do you want?”
         The man with the gun sneered. “We were friends of your father, come to pay our last respects.”
         “Yeah.” The other guy nodded. “Jed owes us big-time.”
         “Shut up, Monty.” The man pointed his gun at Monty. “I’ll do the talking.”
         “Okay, Cliff.” Monty raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just trying to help.”
         “Don’t say my name!” Cliff removed his sunglasses, revealing dark eyes and a scar above his right eyebrow.
         Monty folded his arms. “You started it.”
         “Huh?” Cliff’s brow wrinkled, making the scar more pronounced.
         “You said, ‘Shut up, Monty.’ That’s using my name, ain’t it?”
         Ben’s heart slowed to a steady beat. These guys were as dumb as the Three Stooges! He hoped Cliff didn’t make any stupid mistakes with that revolver. “What do you want with me?”
         Cliff focused back on Ben. “We had a few business dealings with your dad, Thorne. Unfortunately, some of those deals fell through and we were left holding the bag.”
         “You’re bookies. Gambling debts, right?”
         Cliff raised his eyebrows. “Hey, you’re smart. But your father had to get himself killed, and he still owes us about seventy grand.”
         “Seventy thousand dollars?” Ben felt his head spin. More debts!
         Cliff smirked. “That’s about the size of it.”
         “Actually,” Monty put in, “we rounded up.”
         “Monty!” Cliff clenched his teeth. “I’ll handle this!”
         Ben folded his arms. “Do you have any documentation that proves my dad still owes you this money?” If they didn’t, he wasn’t paying them a penny.
Of course if he didn’t pay, they might kill him.

* * *

To be continued…

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