The Lovely Chocolate Mob

Update

Walter and David were released later that night, really, early in the morning. They weren’t the man the police were looking for; they weren’t Dr. Burke, so Lieutenant Bond and the department didn’t want publicity about having seized the wrong man and appearing like the Keystone Cops to the local media. Mae Ling was mad at me for having corrupted her husband, and so there was no more oriental food sent to our house.

A few days later, I met Miss Planter for dinner at a sandwich shop close to the clinic, a mom and pop family-owned restaurant. It wasn’t an expensive place, but homey, since the owners put a little effort into decorating it, making their customers feel welcomed. Miss Planter had walked over from her office, which was a block down the street.

I asked how things were progressing with the Burke family marital sessions. She asked in return, “Don’t you think this falls in the arena of confidentiality, between a counselor and her patients?”

“Well, yes, maybe,” I replied. “However, here’s another thought on the matter. Since I am paying for the sessions, don’t I have any rights to know if progress is being made? Plus, I am housing and keeping one of participants alive, and they both agreed to these meetings, so I am feeling almost somewhat entitled,” trying not to sound too demanding, but persuasive.

She thought for a moment and said, “Those are good points. As the supplier of funds for these meetings, you ought to be kept informed, like a parent should be with his children. Okay, I’ll update you but will keep things in a very broad sense. Agreed?” she asked.

“Agreed,” I said.

“Since you are concerned and are known by both parties, I don’t think there will be any betrayal involved.”

“Good,” I said. “So… how’s it going?”

“It’s going. They have their problems, like all couples do, but there’s always room for hope.”

“Okay. Have there been any improvements made, any progress?"

“There was a lot of progress made when they agreed to counseling. I think that was the hardest part for them, or him.”

Remembering the newscast from a few days prior, I mentioned, “I need to tell you something. Franklin is going through a very rough time, personally. He’s cooped up in my house, which is small enough to fit into his garage. He can’t practice medicine, he can’t practice his trade, he can’t make his rounds or see his patients, he can’t visit his peers or his country-club friends, can’t consult with other doctors, can’t see his children, and, most recently of all, Susan Lovely has turned on him.”

“I saw the KDBC news report the other night,” said Miss Planter. “Miss Lovely is really a piece of work. Even without her inheritance, Susan Lovely looks as though she’s not suffering financially. She even has a hireling as a possible new boyfriend. Yes, this must be tough on Dr. Burke.”

“I think that hurt Franklin worst of all,” I said. “You might keep this in mind during the sessions. I think her care-free attitude is what drew Franklin in.”

“Her attire wouldn’t exactly chase men away, either,” Miss Planter remarked.

“True, true,” I agreed, “But his wife is also a very beautiful lady. I think he was looking for an escape, possibly an escape from financial ruin.”

“I’ve gotten the sense that he was under pressure prior to these troubles,” Miss Planter said. “They’re both living above their means. They go from paycheck to paycheck and have no savings. She doesn’t work, their investments have crashed, and it’s beginning to dawn on him that he’ll be retiring one day, maybe soon. With all these recent events, his career may already be ruined, and if that’s so, they’re facing personal calamity. They won’t be able to afford their high lifestyle.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. What would you suggest they do?” I asked.

“If Franklin were free to roam about, I’d suggest seeking financial counseling. I’ve already suggested that for Helen Burke. It seems as though her appetite for the ‘finer things’ has speeded up their ruin.”

“I thought it might. How did she take to the suggestion?”

“She was offended, defensive, and acted as though she were a victim. I finally told her, “Look, you’re a millionaire, not a billionaire. You can’t be living like you’re Bill Gates.” She seemed to understand that. The sooner the better; even millionaires can go broke overnight.”

“I’m glad you told her that. Somehow, I couldn’t think of the words fast enough.”

“When you counsel enough people, you learn what to look for, and what to say. I’ve seen plenty of financial ruin, believe me; I’ve lived through it. People sometimes spend to keep from facing reality. They create another world with plastic.”

“Have you given her any options?”

“Yes, I’ve suggested to Helen to get rid of her credit cards. She agreed, and she emptied her purse of them in my office just yesterday. I had a pair of scissors in my drawer, with rounded edges of course, and they both cut them up. Since Helen has the job of paying all the bills, she’ll be doing so with checks and be offline, until all the bills are paid off. This way she’ll see where all the money is going, and they’ll both work to plug up any financial leaks.”

“What else have they decided?”

“Mr. Burke has taken full responsibility for everything, and Helen has shown a renewed interest in her marriage. They’ve agreed to pull out of the country club, which represented a hefty loss, to sell their foreign sports cars, to buy American mid-sized family cars or vans, used, to sell their home to an interested buyer, and move into a smaller house they can easily maintain by themselves for the next 30-40 years. This means no stairs and no swimming pools. They’re still discussing their children’s education, but I have a feeling the ones remaining at home may become home schooled. Mrs. Burke is very sharp, and she’ll be able to educate her kids with no problem. They realize they’re fighting for survival now; they’ve looked over the edge and have almost seen the end of their marriage. I think it’s shaken them up towards reality.”

“Wow, now that is progress!” I said.

“They won’t be working against each other in this area anymore. Hopefully they can keep their financial ship from sinking, and along with it, keep their family together.”

“This makes perfect sense. Miss Planter, you’ve given me hope.”

She smiled at this. “All in a day’s work,” she said. “Just keep writing those checks.”

What a beautiful smile.





The Warning

I drove home that evening, feeling good about the Burke’s progress. Maybe we’ve helped to keep this family in one piece, hopefully not interfering too much with their own decisions. They came to these decisions on their own and wouldn’t blame us for “forcing” them to make the right decisions. Anyway, I was feeling good when I pulled up into my driveway, where I received a call on my cell phone.

“Hello?” I asked. “Mr. Owen, this is an anonymous phone call,” a strangely familiar voice said. “You don’t know me, but I know you and am warning you that the police know about Dr. Franklin Burke being at your home, and you have about 10 minutes before they arrive.” Then the phone went dead.

“Hello? Hello?” I looked at the phone for a number; all it said was “Restricted.” I tried to return the call, but nobody answered.

I ran up to the front door, unlocked it, and burst inside. “Walter! Dr. Burke! We’re exposed! I just got a warning, and we’ve got less than five minutes to clear out; the cops are on their way!”

Dr. Burke said “What’ll we do?“

Walter said, “I’ve got a contingency plan! Randall, get in your car and drive towards town, toward the police.”

I asked, “What’s this going to do?”

“It’ll buy us time,” he said. “The cops are looking for you and Franklin right now; the RV was only on the FBI radar, and knowing government bureaucracies, they probably haven’t coordinated with the local police. I’ll take Franklin with me; the cops will follow you and give a merry chase!”

“What if they start shooting?”

“There are too many video cams out there; they won’t start shooting unless you shoot at them first. Besides, they don’t wanna shoot you; they wanna shoot Franklin! You’re just out for a drive, and you’ll have your radio turned up high so you won’t hear their sirens; that’ll be your excuse. That may buy us a few minutes!”

“My radio’s broken!” I said.

“What about your CD Player?” countered Walter.

“It still works!”

“Put in some rock and roll!”

“I don’t have any rock and roll!”

“Well what do you have? Find something loud! You’ve gotta ignore the cops!”

“Okay, but what then?” I asked.

“I don’t know; I haven’t got that far yet,” said Walter. “Hold onto your cell phone; that’ll be our contact.”

I reached for my phone to check the battery.

“No, wait!” shouted Walter. He grabbed my cell phone from my belt; he took it from the pouch and opened the back, and removed the battery. “Put this battery in your pocket. Don’t lose it. If we have to call each other, let’s make it after 12 noon. Make sure you’re in a different place whenever you call. Cops can trace you through your phone.”

Walter is always three steps ahead. I’d forgotten cell phones could be used to track people. We rushed and got all of Franklin’s things together, which wasn’t very much, and threw them into the RV, and just before they took off, Franklin turned to me, took my hand, and looked directly in my eyes, and said “For all you’ve done, Thanks!”

This caught me off guard. I said, “What did I do?”

He said, “I was a stranger, and you welcomed me; I was hungry, and you fed me.” Then he turned and hopped into Walter’s RV and away they went, in a southern direction, down the street towards the back roads of town, a trail of dust rising as they hit the white gravel road at the end of my street.

Watching it disappear, I said to myself, “Maybe I did something right after all.”

I re-entered the house and turned up the television volume, turned on the lights and took the phone off the hook, locked all the windows and pulled the curtains, locked the house doors, and went for a drive towards town, keeping my car under 35 miles per hour. I didn’t want to get a ticket; they’re expensive these days.

Turning right onto Rochelle Drive, I saw police lights in the distance, coming my way. I put in a DVD and cranked it as high as it would go, with Sandy Patti singing patriotic music. I kept the windows up and watched the police caravan come my way in the left lane. Walter was right; all I could hear was the singing, and when the police cars passed me heading towards my house, I only heard the sirens then. I counted the squad cars as they went by, “One, two, three…” and on up to at least ten. The driver in the last car of the police group looked over at me for a split-second, as though he recognized me, but I turned my face toward the traffic and pretended not to notice. I saw the police car’s brake lights come on in my rear view mirror, but then it started going forward again, with the rest of the pack. Nobody followed me; I guessed they were determined to surprise me at home and find us there; this last squad car didn’t want to miss all the excitement.

The neighbors had a show. Police cars parked up and down the street, and all the policemen surrounded my house. They could hear the television blaring and used megaphones to call us out. They tried calling my home since I was listed in the phone book, but all they got were busy signals. The SWAT team was called out, shot tear gas into my home, hoping to smoke us out, but with no luck. When nobody came out, they decided to enter by force, so they got the shields and helmets and body armor and black garb and plenty of guns and ammunition. Two teams of four men each approached the front and back doors, and, through radio communication, were given the go-ahead to smash down my doors and enter the home. All of this tied up much of the city police force and fire department for about three hours, so I was told. The media had been called, and they were hoping for video of a weeping Dr. Franklin Burke being led out in shackles by victorious Lovely policemen, who had brought a thieving, murderous fugitive to justice. The rest of us (me and Walter, and maybe even David) would probably have been collateral damage and wouldn’t even earn a mention in the evening news.

It was after dark when I arrived downtown; I parked in the medical center parking lot. There would be a search for my car soon, so I deserted it there; I just got out, locked it up, and walked away. Fortunately, Miss Planter’s apartment was within walking distance. I didn’t want to involve her in this but didn’t know where else to go. Trying to not be too conspicuous while walking on the sidewalk toward her apartment building, I finally arrived at her doorstep and knocked.

Miss Planter answered the door, looking surprised to see me. I told her the situation, and she invited me in. I refused but asked if I could borrow her car, instead. Not wanting to get her in trouble, I said if anybody asked her, that I said I had a flat tire and needed to borrow her car. If I didn’t come back, she could say that I stole it. This would keep her in the clear, hopefully, from the authorities. She was my counselor, after all, and this could be verified.

After borrowing her car, I drove around the city. Nobody was looking for Miss Planter’s car but would soon surely be looking for me. I checked her radio; it worked, but I doubted if I’d use it to ignore a siren again. I wanted to listen to the local news to see if they had the latest scoop.

It was getting late, and weariness was beginning to set in; I needed to sleep. I drove out into the country, on to the gravel country roads, and looked for low and thick bushes, a place where I could park the car, somewhere off the road. Pine trees were nice, but they really didn’t provide much cover. I drove the car into some bushes, someplace off the road, climbed into the backseat and fell asleep, wondering if Walter and Dr. Burke got away.





Reaction

Early in the morning, around 4 a.m., the loud sound of a helicopter in the area woke me up. A bright light also served to hasten my awakening, and I lay still, not moving a muscle until the light went away, along with the sound. I must have parked so far in the country that there was no clearing for a police, or worse, an FBI helicopter to land. But that wouldn’t keep it from radioing in to headquarters, letting them know a car was parked in a thicket outside the city limits, and sending another squad car to investigate. If I had been spotted, I’d have to move quickly. Good thing I wasn’t in my own car since I would have been identified for sure. Now that the helicopter was gone, I’d drive away to another hiding place before anybody arrived.

I climbed into the front seat, started the engine, and took off, remaining on the outer edge of the city. After about an hour of driving, I pulled over into another patchy area, overgrown with leaves and bushes, and drove into the middle of it, so that even the top of the car would be covered. Turning off the engine, I climbed into the back seat, and soon I was asleep again. Just before I fell asleep, I remembered hoping that the grass under the vehicle was wet enough not to catch fire from the hot engine.

I awoke again at around 8 a.m., but this time with a neck pain. I had enough rest, but it wasn’t very comfortable, not like my own bed. I had no place to run, no place to go. It would be only a matter of time before the police caught me. It was time to take action.

I took out my cell phone, and in the middle of leaves and vines and bushes, put the battery back in, called the Lovely Chocolate Company, and asked to speak with CEO Hal Ostrander.

Having done that, I took the battery back out of the phone and figured I only had to lay low for a short time.I stayed in the leaves for another hour until I heard traffic becoming louder, getting closer. The traffic rush didn’t get going until well after 8 a.m.; the country folk must have been headed to the city to buy groceries. I decided to move before I was spotted by neighbors and started the car up, slowly backing out of the covering so as not to scratch Miss Planter’s car too much.

Driving around the countryside, I came upon a gas station with a convenience store and car wash. I bought gasoline for Karen, using what cash I had in the wallet, knowing that credit cards could also be used to track people by their purchases. I bought cheap shaving equipment and made myself look presentable in the convenience store restroom. Good thing it was one of those truck stores, with the large restrooms, like they have on the highways. There were men coming in and out, but they didn’t pay any attention to me shaving; they’d seen truckers doing this and so paid no heed. I went into the store area and bought three one-gallon bottles of water and a bar of soap. I wanted to be clean if I were going to be arrested.

While driving some more, I spotted a secluded pond. Parking the car under a tree, I took off my jacket and shoes, and jumped into the pond fully clothed. Walking dripping wet back out of the pond, I rubbed the clothes down with soap until I was covered with bubbles. I jumped back into the lake, came out and did the same again. This time I poured a gallon jug over my head, washing away all the soap; I peeled these clothes off and hung them on branches. I did the same with my underwear and socks and went skinny-dipping until my clothes dried, which didn’t take long. With the third jug of water and soap, I gave myself an outdoor shower. I didn’t see anybody, and I hoped nobody saw me. After the clothes were completely dry, I put them back on, hoping to look somewhat decent. I felt good and clean and ready to face whatever was to come my way.

It was getting closer to noon, and I was beginning to feel weak. I wasn’t really hungry, just worn out from thinking and planning and wanted to feel energetic again. I got in Miss Planter’s car and drove toward the city, spotting the golden arches from the highway. It would be good to go inside where there was air conditioning and have a sit-down meal. Maybe they were still serving pancakes; at least I could check.

No such luck; they quit serving breakfast at 11:00 a.m., so I settled for an order number one. The young lady waiting on me gave me a strange look, as though she had seen me before, but didn’t say anything. I took my meal tray and sat down in a clean booth near the television, enjoying the cool and cushioned-back seat in a controlled-environment, until I heard a small gasp. Turning to my right I saw a little girl looking my way and then again at the television above me. I looked up to see the TV with my picture on the screen. I hadn’t been paying any attention to the news, so it took a few moments for me to realize that I was being portrayed as an accessory in the murder of Cornelius Lovely and the theft of the Lovely family estate from Susan Lovely. If spotted, the general public was to immediately call the police. I looked back at the little girl, who was punching numbers into a pink cell phone; it was time to get out of there.

Trying to look calm, I left the dining area, taking my coke and hamburger, making no sudden moves while exiting the building, but as soon as I got outside began a dead run to Miss Planter’s car. While backing up out of the parking space, I could hear sirens from down the street and figured I’d have about five seconds before seeing any squad cars. I guessed I had about another minute before customers identified Miss Planter’s car to the police, so I didn’t have any time to waste. I had to get to the Lovely Chocolate Factory. I pulled out of the parking lot exit in the back as the police pulled in the parking lot entrance at the front; I disappeared into the neighborhood. Good thing I played on a lot of these streets as a kid.

I drove around the neighborhood, taking all the back roads I knew, making sure to take it nice and slow, and it was about 25 minutes later when I pulled into the Lovely Chocolate Company parking lot.

A security guard saw me walking toward the front door. He pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it but didn’t say or do anything to me. I continued walking, as though I belonged there, and made it to the entrance door. I probably should have parked closer but was hoping to keep the car from being noticed. I wondered if it mattered, now.

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was an old-time circular clock, which read 1:15. I was early and would have to sit around in the waiting room, under the eyes of the receptionists, secretaries, and executives who walked in and through the area. I grabbed a magazine and acted as though I was interested in an article, pulling it close to my face and hoping that nobody would talk to me.

After a little while, a secretary asked if she could help me. I said, “Yes, I have a two o’clock appointment with the board of trustees.”

“I’ll be happy to introduce you to them, Mr…?”

From behind the magazine, I said, “They already know who I am, but thank you just the same.”

I lowered the magazine to smile in appreciation at the help, but when I did I saw the look of recognition and heard a gasp, and she beat a hasty retreat back to her desk. Now I wished I had worn my wig and dark glasses, but any disguises were left in the trunk of my car back at the medical center. I watched her and hoped she wouldn’t make any phone calls to the authorities. If she did, I estimated they would be there in 15 minutes, and it was still over a half hour until the board meeting.

Another secretary came by to offer me chocolates and a citrus drink. Nice service they had there.

A phone rang, and I looked up; the secretary who noticed me was answering a call, but I didn’t know if she would tell on me or if she had text-messaged somebody. Perhaps the police, or the 9-1-1 operator was verifying she was for real, and that I had been spotted and she’d tell, which would land me in jail for who knows how long. Well, it felt as though it was a good time for a walk.

My mind was going into overdrive, and I got up and walked out of the reception room, into the hallways of the chocolate company. I walked until I come to the end of the hall, then decided to take the elevator to the top floor, which turned out to be the fifth floor. The elevator took me up, opened its doors, spit me out, and I walked around, trying to ease the queazy feeling in my stomach, and found a large pane to view the landscape. This was the height of Lovely Hill, and I looked out into the parking lot and the grounds and beyond, wishing I were in a plane to Hawaii or Tahiti or a tropical island where I’d never be heard from again. After a minute or two of admiring the view, I saw a dozen police cars coming down the main road, pulling into the parking lot of the Lovely Chocolate Factory. My goose was cooked.





Showdown

There wasn’t much I could do except to finish what I went there to do in the first place. I walked away from the window to go back downstairs, literally. I took the stairs from the fifth to the lower levels, and all the way down I was gaining in daring or desperation, I haven’t learned to tell the difference yet, and by the time I reached the first floor I was ready for a fight. I pushed open the stairway door, strutted up the hallway towards the reception room, and walked directly into the boardroom. All the faces looked up, surprised to see me barge in like I did; they had started their board meeting early, as they had before. The CEO, Hal Ostrander, said, “Mr. Smith, I presume? You’re early.” I looked at my watch and said, “Oh, yes. I’m early. I’m sorry for that; my watch has been running ahead of me. I didn’t mean to interfere with your meeting.” I looked around the room and saw the look of people who didn’t recognize me as Mr. Smith, but instead as the face recently broadcast on all the television sets in Lovely, instead. I also spotted the lone woman in purple, sitting half way down the members to my right. She was also surprised to see me, I could tell.

“I need to apologize to the board. As you can see, I’m not wearing my glasses or a wig or a beard today. I am Mr. Smith, who came to you with a company problem recently. Actually, my real name isn’t John Smith. I still prefer to remain anonymous, and if anybody asks about the man resembling John Smith, please say he was never here.”

This confused the board; they all knew who I was but that didn’t matter because I didn’t want to explain myself any further to them. I focused on the one board member who I felt I knew, who was a member of another board, and said, “I didn’t really have much to say today, except to give you an update on the situation with Susan Lovely and… the issue we spoke about in the last meeting.” Looking around the room, I only saw confusion and heard silence from the members, who were trying to make sense out of what I’d just said.

I continued, “Okay, that’s all I had to say, except… I’m going to go and visit the little boy’s room right now. I still need to meet with some high upper-ups here, but first I’m going to hit the ‘john’ just like… the last time I was here. I hope I can meet with the people I need to meet with.” I said this slowly and deliberately as I was looking at her, her eyes being glued to mine; she didn’t flinch or say a word but looked almost frightened. “Don’t worry,” I thought, “I’m not going to rat you out in front of all these board members; it’s just that I need to see you as soon as possible.” I hoped she could read my rushed and confused mind.

I stepped back out into the reception area and walked down the hallway towards the workroom floor. I saw policemen coming from the outside towards the main entrance, and I pushed the entrance door open and walked into the work area next to the workers and conveyor belts as though I belonged there, and headed straight for the men’s room. I pushed open the men’s room door, walked through the little locker room, back to the row of stalls, and went to the middle stall, just as I had the last time, and I shut and locked the door, just like before. This time I was standing, however. Whatever the future held, I’d meet it standing up.

I waited in the men’s room and looked at my watch. It was almost 2:00, and I was still looking at it when five, then ten minutes, ticked by. I could hear a lot of commotion out on the workroom floor; the cops must have been casing the joint looking for me. They won’t have a very hard time finding me; I’ll bet at least 100 workroom floor employees saw me duck in here.

The men’s room door opened and people came filing in. They were quiet, too quiet; maybe they were policemen with guns drawn. They wouldn’t know that I wasn’t armed on the inside of this stall; they could fill it full of lead before I was able to say anything. What a way to meet the end, dying in a hail of bullets in the middle stall of the men’s room. Dick Tracy used to refer to that as the ”hot-lead exit.”

Feet gathered around the stall, including a pair of women’s purple shoes, then the lights went out.

“Senior Owen?” a Spanish-accented voice asked.

“Si?” I said, before realizing I was speaking Spanish.

“You have information for us?”

“Yes, if you’re who I think you are. Is ‘Agent Huebner’ with you?”

“I’m here,” said a familiar voice. “My name’s not really ‘Huebner,’ by the way.”

“That’s okay; I don’t want to know who you are. I have information which I think you’ll want to hear.”

“We’re all ears, Mr. Owen.”

I had to talk quickly. “Before the cops haul me away, I need to tell you this: That Dr. Burke had nothing to do with the death of Cornelius Lovely, and that he had nothing to do with the stealing of Susan Lovely’s inheritance, and I think any romance between the two has been broken.”

“Jah, Herr Owen. Now you haff told us that,” said the east German voice, slipping into his own natural accent. “How do ve know you are telling us the truth?”

“Because Dr. Burke told me that Cornelius Lovely died of natural causes, of advanced old age,” I said.

There was a moment of silence, and a little murmuring, so I said, “He was a millionaire chocolate maker before any of you were born!"

“Si, what you say is true,” said the Italian voice. “We knew he was not long for this world; however, it was hard for us since we regarded him somewhat as a father figure.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was hard for you,” I offered. “But he was Dr. Burke's patient, and the only thing he could do was to make him comfortable and keep him pain-free with morphine.”

“Tell me, how do you know all of this, Mr. Owen?” said the low-speaking woman’s British-accented voice, who was fooling nobody.

“Dr. Burke has been staying at my house for the past month; we’ve had plenty of time to talk. He’s innocent of stealing any money.”

There was some murmuring, and then silence, when a voice asked, “If he didn’t take it, who did?”

“I know who did, but I don’t want to tell you about it.”

“You need to tell us all you know, Mr. Owen.”

“I’ll let him tell you, himself.” I took the small battery out of my pocket and placed it back into the cell phone, hoping it was fully charged. I dialed Walter’s cell phone, also hoping he’d pick up.

“Hello, Randall?” he answered.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m going to place you on speakerphone, do you understand?”

“Speakerphone? Why?” asked Walter.

“Because there are people here who need to hear what you have to say.”

“Well, if you’re going to put me on speakerphone, I’m going to do the same with you.”

At that point, we put each other on speakerphone.

“Are these good people, or are they bad people?” asked Walter.

I heard a few chuckles outside the stall.

“These are people who are interested in the truth,” I said.

“Do I need to swear on a Bible?” asked Walter, with a straight voice.

“No, this isn’t a court setting,” I said, assuring him.

“Oh, you’re with those people. Okay, I’ll talk.”

“Now, I haven’t said your name. They don’t know who you are. They only want to know what you did, concerning the inheritance of Susan Lovely.”

“Oh, no problem! I stole it!”

“No, you didn’t steal it.”

“That’s right,” said Walter. I ‘borrowed’ it.”

“Ask him how he did it!” said the Spanish voice.

“Did you hear that?”

“I heard it,” said Walter. I held the cell phone straight up, so it’s light at least could be viewed, and Walter spoke louder, so as to be heard by all, “I intercepted the funds when they were being transferred from Old Man Lovely’s account to Susan’s account. I had all the bank and account numbers; it was nothing for me to set my computer on ‘intercept’ mode, and wait. I was asleep when the transaction took place!” Obviously, Walter was proud of his work.

“Ask him where the money is now!” said the Italian voice.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Yes. I routed some of it to the Cayman Islands, some of it to a Swiss bank account, some of it to offshore accounts, and some of to Chinese and Russian banks. I had to break it all up so it wouldn’t look too suspicious.”

“Bring him in,” said the British voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said. “However, let me assure you that his motive wasn’t stealing… would you tell the audience why you purloined the funds?”

“Yes, I’ll tell them. But first of all, I’ll tell them my name. I’m Walter Dale, technicians expert. And I don’t ‘steal’ anything; when I want something, I pay for it!”

The voices got a little restless, as though they were confused. Some sounded angry.

“Walter, tell them why you did it.”

“I did it because Dr. Burke was getting involved with a rich girl who wasn’t his wife, so I wanted to make her look less desirable to him, so I ‘borrowed,’ heavy emphasis on the ‘borrowed,’ the money. I had and have every intention of giving it back!”

In the background, the voice of Dr. Franklin Burke was heard to say, “First you blew up my car and then you stole Susan’s money?”

Walter’s voice replied, “No, first I borrowed Susan’s money, then I blew up your car!”

The deep voiced woman asked, “Why did he blow up Dr. Burke’s car?”

I replied, “Because he knew you were going to kill him, and he got to the doctor first! He made it look as though he’d been killed by somebody, giving him time to disappear.”

“And they’ve been hiding at your house ever since?” asked the woman’s voice.

“Yes, I’ve been keeping them there. But let me add one more thing, an answer to the third point I brought up.”

“Yes, Herr Owen?” said the east German.

“Dr. Burke has been through a lot these past few weeks even though he’s innocent of murder, and innocent of stealing. His only real crime is that he allowed himself to become involved with a woman who has since thrown him over. Have you been watching the local news?”

“Jah, ve haf been following the reports of Miss Darla Bell ov KDBC; oh, baby!” giggled the east German.

“Heinrich!” said the woman’s voice.

“No names!” added a Russian voice.

“It seems that Susan Lovely has transferred her affections from Dr. Burke to her pool boy, Julio,” said a very British-sounding voice.

“It’s doubtful that Susan Lovely was ever serious about Dr. Burke, given how she was so quick to believe his guilt. However, he is innocent,” I said. “Furthermore, Dr. Burke has been receiving marital counseling for the past few weeks, and he and his wife have been making good progress.”

“I would say those are points in his favor,” said the Italian voice. “However, will he become involved with Susan Lovely anytime in the future?”

“No. No, I’m through with Susan,” said the doctor’s voice. “I was a fool. I’ve failed my wife and kids. I’m sorry.”

There was a little murmuring among the men. The Caribbean voice said, “Me next!” and the other male voices laughed. The British voice replied to the Caribbean, “Sorry, old chap, you’re too late. Julio is one of us.”

“Silence!” said the deep-voiced woman.

Then she spoke again. “What of the money? Can this Walter Dale replace the lost inheritance to Susan Lovely?”

“That’s a 10-4, big sister!” said Walter’s voice. “Give me five minutes!”

“Five minutes? Who has a watch?” asked the Spanish voice.

“I’ve got one,” I said.

“Your friend has five minutes. ‘Agent Belken,’ check the accounts.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said ‘Agent Belken.’ Then I heard noises which sounded like a revolver being cocked.

“What’s that noise?” I asked.

“It’s my laptop computer being opened up,” said ‘Agent Belken.’ Then more sounds followed, the sound of the beep of a computer being turned on.

There were noises coming from my cell phone as well, the sound of a heavy door opening and slamming, of a quick run, and the beep-beep of an automatic vehicle key starting and unlocking a recreational vehicle. I supposed that Walter needed his motorhome running to power his computers.

“Vell, Herr Owen,” said Heinrich. It seems we have five minutes to kill. I am curious. Tell me, why did you come here for Dr. Burke?”

It got quiet. I needed to tell the truth in a convincing manner here; these people would be able to tell if I was lying or not. “The truth is, gentlemen… many years ago I was in love with Dr. Burke’s wife, before they married. When I heard that she was in trouble, I set about to help. I did what I could and failed with most of it, but I’ve learned that I cared about the plight of their children and … since then, I’ve become friends with Dr. Franklin Burke as well. I came here because he is my friend.”

It remained quiet. I could hear the deep-voiced woman sob. Heinrich finally spoke. “Very admirable, Herr Owen. I’m not sure many of us would have done the same.”

“We’re here to make good,” I said. “To make peace. To try to set straight all we’ve done. To ask for mercy.”

I heard the computer beep again, and ‘Agent Belken’ said, “All funds have been restored to the Susan Lovely account.”

I heard the sighs of relief. I sighed as well. I think some of the voices had seen things my way.

“Step outside of the stall, Herr Owen,” said the east German.

“Yes. I will. It’s a little dark; give me a moment.”

Someone turned the lights on. I came out of the stall, with my eyes shut and face toward the floor. I didn’t want to see any faces in case my eyes opened.

“Come mitt us, Herr Owen.”

I felt myself being led out of the men’s restroom. I supposed that they were going to turn me over to the police, since now I was a liability to them and the Lovely Chocolate Company. At least I hoped that’s what they’d do!