The Publisher
~A Novella~
Mary Barr
Footnote: Mary Barr is a fiction writer. All people and animals in this book are fictitious. Should they have any likeness to anyone living or dead it is coincidental. The many characters featured within these pages have been created from the imagination of the author — Mary Barr.
Copyright Mary Barr 2011
Smashwords Edition
Contents
This novella is dedicated to all the educators and parents who everyday take on the silent responsibility of teaching today’s children to be tomorrow’s awesome adults.
With Special Thanks
Victoria Martin
Tracy Marcynzsyn
Quach Tran Nhat Minh (Cover) mailto:quachminh_m@yahoo.com.vn
To Contact Mary Barr:
Part One
“Here…” Lilly said, offering her young friend a tiny handmade butterfly. Her small hand opened and the movement made the butterfly’s wings flutter, the metallic paint shimmering brightly in the morning light. The other girl stared at the tiny hairclip in her friend’s outstretched hand.
“It’s not a lend — it’s yours to keep. Honest, I asked my Mom,” Lilly said, again thrusting her hand closer to her friend. Libby couldn’t take her eyes from the pretty pale pink and purple butterfly hairclip nestled in Lilly’s small palm.
“Morning, Joe. So you finally managed a day at home. It’s been a long time coming,” Janet Blake said, hurriedly entering the kitchen several paces behind her daughter, Lilly. Her son Steve did not follow. Joe could hear him racing loudly up the stairs to Connor’s room and slamming the door behind him.
Joe was a tall, athletic, good-looking man with coffee--coloured skin and wavy chestnut hair. His warm brown eyes laughed easily, as he did, and his perfectly aligned teeth always appeared to sparkle when his generous mouth smiled. Joe stood at the counter, pouring himself a second cup of coffee.
“Good morning to you Janet, and yes, it has been a long time coming. Do you have time for a cup?” Joe asked raising his coffee mug in her direction.
“No time Joe. The day just started, and we’re late already. Almost forgot I was dropping the boys at camp today. I should have gotten us all organized much earlier,” Janet said, somewhat frazzled. The girls’ voices interrupted her discussion with Joe. Turning toward them, she added, “Yes Libby, it really is for you. We had one made especially for you for your birthday. It has your initials in purple on the wings, ‘L.S.’ Look closely now. Lilly was so excited she couldn’t sleep last night. She couldn’t wait for your birthday; she wanted to give it to you now. My cousin makes each one lovingly by hand. She made it just for you, to go in your beautiful dark hair,” Janet concluded, touching Libby’s long, freshly washed hair and enjoying the obvious delight in the girl’s hazel eyes. They positively shone with excitement as she ran to show Joe her new gift.
“It really is beautiful, Libby. I hope you thanked Mrs. Blake and Lilly.”
“Oh yes, thank you both very much,” Libby said hugging Lilly tightly before carefully putting the butterfly clip in her hair. She proudly walked around the kitchen giggling. She moved her head to and fro, knowing the butterfly’s tiny wings would flutter and sparkle in the sunlight. She grabbed Lilly’s hand and together they skipped happily around the room.
“Is Connor ready, Joe? We really have to leave. The drive to camp takes much longer than the drive to school,” Janet said, looking toward the stairs hoping to see Connor and Steve appear. Her words were hardly spoken when Connor almost bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen, his baseball cap roughly over one ear, jeans dirty and torn, and t-shirt a little dirty and too large for his slim frame. Behind him he dragged a huge camouflage-coloured backpack. He tumbled into the kitchen after falling over his untied shoelaces. Connor’s uncoordinated movements made them laugh as Joe recalled himself at that age.
“Morning, Dad. Hi Mrs Blake, I’m all ready,” he announced with a look of pride on his face.
“Looks to me like you’re more than ready son — it’s only a two-day camp, isn’t it?”
“Sure is, Dad.”
“Connor, look at my butterfly. Lilly just gave it to me,” Libby said, proudly pointing to her new hairclip.
“It’s pretty Lib, very girly. It twinkles like the sun around Uranus,” Connor replied, looking closely. As Connor dragged his backpack the way he had come and dumping it heavily at the front door, Joe moved swiftly past him and easily lifted the weight off the ground.
“What do you have in here son?” Joe asked as he moved passed the small crowd in the hallway. Joe carried the backpack toward Janet’s minivan.
The noisy crowd soon followed Joe to the van. Lilly hurriedly said goodbye as Libby hugged her Dad tightly,
“I love you, Daddy.” This was the first time Joe had been around to see Libby off to school and what Libby really wanted to do was stay home with her Dad, but she knew he would never allow that.
“I love you too, Princess,” Joe replied, her young voice tugging at his heart strings.
“Don’t forget to pick me up after school so we can get my new dancing shoes. Mommy promised!” Libby called to Joe from her seat in the van; he nodded before turning his attention toward his son. Janet’s son, Steve, was the same age as Connor, but he seldom spoke. This morning as he moved past Joe, he kept his eyes to the ground and said a quick, “Bye!” before quickly jumping into the van and moving toward the back.
“You behave at camp, Connor, and call us tonight. You know your mother worries, but most of all, take care and have fun son,” Joe said hugging him close. He could feel Connor’s embarrassment at being hugged by his Dad. Joe understood; he was once twelve years old himself, but he also knew that having his dad see him off was a big deal, and he couldn’t recall the last time it had happened.
“Sure will, Dad. I know it’s really you who worries — not mom, but I’ll be sure to call. You guys don’t need to worry about me — I’ve got sunshine in my pocket,” Connor called while the door glided gently shut. The four children waved as the van moved away. Joe was still laughing at his son’s wacky comment. He often wondered where they came from. Joe walked slowly back inside thinking of his son’s words. Connor always had a collection of unusual sayings, most of them charming and witty. However, Joe knew they seemed quite unpredictable and unusually disassociated with whatever they were discussing. He knew he shouldn’t worry, as Connor was a straight “A” student and a popular all round sportsman; he loved school, had loads of friends and adored his sister and his parents. Joe shook his head, still chuckling. Thinking again of Connor’s last comment, he realized Suzanne wasn’t worried about their son’s thought pattern and, after all, she was one of Los Angeles’ leading psychiatrists, so why should he?
“Okay, Mister Joe. I’ll be off now. There’s a salad in the fridge and dinners in the oven; all you need to do is heat, Ms. Suzanne will know. Enjoy your day, Mister Joe.”
“Thanks Martha, I intend to. I’ve waited a long time for my quiet time at home. You enjoy your day off also. Say hi to your sister from us,” Joe replied as she quietly shut the back door. Martha was their live-in help. She did pretty much everything; the kids called her “Nanny” and she’d been with them for thirteen years now. Suzanne had quickly realized the necessity for live-in help when she discovered she was pregnant with Connor. Suzanne was not pleased with the idea of children changing her life. Both Joe and Suzanne had busy careers, and neither of them would have survived without Martha. Their schedules became even more hectic as the children grew. Martha was the only calm one amongst them, and they both valued her more and more as time went by.
* * *
Joe sat at the kitchen bench, listening to the silence of the house … his house, his and Suzanne’s. He realized they’d lived here for more than four years, and he’d never once been alone in the house. He breathed a gentle sigh of contentment. It had been a busy year, and only now was he able to take some time and reflect on just how busy. Alone time was something he and Suzanne seldom got. His mind wondered to his father, and he felt the same sadness which often surrounded him lately. His father, a well respected New York real estate tycoon had passed away at age seventy five. It had all happened fast; no one ever suspected he was sick. He’d never missed a beat at work, and right up to the minute he’d died, he was still working fifteen-hour days. It was almost one year to the day. That day would forever be etched in Joe’s mind. His dad had just finished a meeting with Donald Trump; he was in his limo heading back to his office when he’d suddenly asked his driver to drive him home to his Fifth Avenue apartment. Several hours later when he hadn’t answered his phones or arrived for the dinner meeting, people got concerned. The police were called, and after busting down his apartment door, they found him slumped in his favourite leather armchair … dead. The ringing of the phone interrupted Joe’s thoughts, and he quickly wiped away a stray tear he hadn’t realized was there.
“Joe here.”
“Joe. It’s Lindon. Just checking the address of the house in the Hamptons your father owned. Was it 6937 or 6987? I seem to have both street numbers.”
“Lindon, 6987 is the correct address.”
“Ok Joe, once I’m through here, I’ll be almost wrapped up. I will have a statement of your net worth by Friday. Looks good, Joe. You were a wealthy man before, but now you’re a very wealthy man. Your father had many more millions than we could have known. Talk to you Friday, Joe. Enjoy your manuscripts.”
“Thanks Lindon, glad it’s all going well. Let’s make it lunch on Friday. I know how hard you’ve worked on all this.”
“Okay; see you then Joe,” Lindon replied, as he disconnected.
Joe emptied his cold cup of coffee into the sink as he again poured himself a fresh one. He took his briefcase from the table and headed outside to the large deck. Placing his coffee on the table, he walked the short distance to the railing. He stood with a small smile on his face as he looked over the Hollywood Hills. Their home and garden was completely private from their neighbours and the outside world. Standing on the wide balcony Joe overlooked the spectacular panoramic view; it was one of the reasons they had purchased the house in the first place and the beauty before him had gone unnoticed for way too long. A slight breeze blew through the air, and songbirds sung their morning chorus. He stood observing his surroundings, the pale blue of the sky above, the warmth of the sun and a few puffy white clouds wandering across the sky. Yes, Joe thought, from now on he was going to work from home, or maybe not work at all; neither of them really needed the money, although Suzanne’s work definitely seemed to be her greatest passion. Maybe their priorities needed to change. Their lives should be about family now, and it would be nice if Suzanne was home more and he could have her all to himself. Just then, as if on cue, the phone again broke into his thoughts.
“Joe here,” he answered.
“Hi Honey, I just spoke to your office and found out you really are working from home today. How is it?” Suzanne asked, her sultry voice as sexy as ever.
“Suzanne, it’s perfect. We have such a wonderful view and a beautiful home, great kids and money in the bank. The only thing missing is you, and if you were here, I guarantee we wouldn’t be looking at the view! We should both retire while we’re young enough to enjoy it!” He loved the sound of her laughter and enjoyed hearing it now.
“Oh honey, you’re a funny man and I love you. But that idea may not be as funny as you think. I’ve just finished my morning meeting with the partners and junior partners.”
“This sounds interesting, do tell me more …”
“Well, Hon, I decided to hire a brilliant new graduate. I’ve already interviewed him several times. He’s met everyone and seems to fit in. Each of us voiced our concerns and viewpoints at the meeting, and the vote was unanimous in his favour, although I’d already made the decision. It’s good they all agree. So Honey, you’ll be seeing more of me from now on. Soon I’ll be only coming in part-time, half a day Monday and I’ll take every Friday off. If he works out and manages to reduce my workload I may take another day off also. Joe, are you still there?”
“Yes, Suz I am still here. Just stunned – I’m already looking forward to spending more time with you. I’ll call Janet now I know she will have Lilly tonight and the girls will love a sleepover. I’ll meet you at that little French restaurant we love on the corner. Congratulations this is wonderful news. Tonight we celebrate! Love you Suz,” he replied warmly.
“Luv you too, Joe. See you tonight,” she answered the smile apparent in her voice as she hung up.
* * *
Could the day get any better? Joe thought as he placed a call to Janet Blake. Finally, after re-filling his cup again, he sipped his warm coffee. Joe sat in the white Cain rocking chair on the deck admiring the view. Twenty minutes later, Joe placed his coffee mug on the table, opened his briefcase and removed four folders each containing an unread manuscript. Joe laid them side by side on the table, reading each title in turn. Coach Bradley, My Life as a Baseball Coach. He felt no inspiration there. The second manuscript was entitled, Internet Aliens., Maybe later for this one, probably more suited to a teenage reader. The third was Jenny, Lost in the New York City Sewers. Interesting, Joe thought, as he read the last one, All About You! What an unusual title for a book. It told him nothing of the storyline and gave no clue about the contents. Joe laughed at the silliness of people until he looked closer at the folder. The title was not written in a light, easy-to-read font, but instead, in heavy black lettering. Just the sight of it looked menacing. The title could be fun. But, somehow, Joe didn’t feel it was.
Joe picked up the synopsis of Jenny, Lost in the New York City Sewers. It was about a little girl who somehow managed to get lost down a manhole while on a class trip to the science museum. She managed to stay alive by eating garbage until she finally befriended a very old man who not only taught her street skills and survival requirements but left her his entire fortune. He died five years later. Obviously a wealthy sewer rat, Joe thought. However, the young girl felt much grief at his passing, he was the only family she had known or could remember. His final words to her were to carefully guard the envelope he had given her, because when she opened it, it would change her life. Due to the grief she was experiencing, it took her several years to actually open the envelope.
Joe read the first five chapters. They were badly written and the story was unconvincing. Joe knew the grammar and spelling could easily be fixed and the story rewritten, but he doubted the concept was strong enough to hold the reader’s attention. He’d read five chapters and still hadn’t a visual on what little Jenny looked like, how old she was or where she had previously lived. He didn’t know anything about her background or family. Had they tried to find her? Were they still searching, or did they give up long ago? Why hadn’t Jenny looked for a way out of the sewer and tried to return to her former life? Finally, he placed the pages back in the folder, wrote a short note and attached it to the outside of the file before pushing it away. As lunchtime approached, Joe walked into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup and check out the refrigerator.
All About You!, what a strange, unusual title, Joe thought as he gingerly picked up the manuscript. Instinctively, a shudder rippled through him, and he almost put it back down on the table. Joe had never experienced a reaction like this before. He knew it must be due to the sadness he still felt deep inside over his father’s passing. That was it and nothing more. He needed to dismiss these ridiculous feelings of foreboding and get himself under control. He reminded himself of just how successful he was as a Publisher and remembered his motto, “everyone deserves a chance.” It was written above his desk, and through the years he’d tried to adhere to it. Again he almost replaced the manuscript when he searched for, but didn’t find, a cover letter or synopsis attached. He noted how thin the manuscript was — maybe it was merely the first few pages or chapters. He flicked through several of the pages until a piece in italics caught his attention.
“…El was safely at school or so you thought, while Cee was at camp. Had you bothered to check out this camp? Did you in fact know where the camp was located or who ran it? No, you blindly sent your beloved son off, entrusting the school, never questioning anything. Your little darlings are basically allowed to wander into the unknown with strangers, while you, the parents, trustingly await their return! Not very caring, I say, not very caring at all! You’re really failures at parenting, like you’re failures at life, at your respective places of work where everyone tells you you’re an outstanding success. Well, of course they do, they want their paycheck each week. So why would they tell you the truth?
Some of you have the lives of others in the palm of your hands. Do you know this? Do you understand the responsibility you have to others? Usually you don’t even bother to read all the facts; you’re too busy multi-tasking, making money and having fun ? yes I know about that too. You’re too busy working at being a failure and pretending you aren’t. You don’t have time to find out the truth, and all the while, someone’s life depends on you. Why should you care anyway? You’re a failure and you’re in a hurry to break for lunch…. Aren’t you concerned that El is safely at school or that Cee ever made it to camp? You sit there in your million-dollar home with its unobtrusive view of the hills. You drink your early morning cup of coffee and you think everything’s perfect in your world; nothing will ever change, you’re secure and happy knowing … it’s ALL ABOUT YOU…”
Joe didn’t hear the phone ring, nor did he hear the doorbell as the delivery man persistently pressed it. He didn’t notice the clouds roll over the sun. Something was telling him he had to read this manuscript and read it very carefully indeed!
Joe could feel the icy talons of fear run down his spine. This was a new feeling to him ? one he’d only read about. But now he knew it could really happen. Was it really happening? He flipped immediately to the first page, checking as he did so for the date stamp. This would tell him exactly when the manuscript had arrived in his office and who received it. But he somehow knew there would be none. The fact that there was no cover note or synopsis didn’t surprise him either.
The first four pages spoke of a criminal psychiatrist referred to only as “Dr. S.” Then it spoke of a young man who supposedly kidnapped and murdered his wife. It told of the many questions he was asked in court and how grief-stricken he was at only being allowed to answer “yes” or “no.” The questions were all carefully phrased … phrased he now knew to easily incriminate an innocent man; he was the easy option, the fast way out. He went on to say how his alibi was never checked, the places, dates and times he had so carefully remembered, never verified. If only he hadn’t been where he was and doing what he was doing, maybe his wife Gloria would still be alive and their middle-class life would have happily continued. He’d told them who he thought had committed the murder, but no one listened, merely putting it down to the ramblings of a muddled mind. Well, he was not a madman; he had an IQ of 160 and a master’s degree. Yes, he may have appeared rather dishevelled when they’d found him, but who wouldn’t with the news they’d earlier thrown at him. How cruelly that was delivered! Didn’t they realize he had no motive? No substantiated motive that is, other than the fact they had argued, Gloria and him. It was simply about the new house they were building and whether to build a carport or a lockup garage. It was a normal argument, no worse than many others, and as soon as they sat down calmly and discussed it, it was resolved.
No one listened, no one heard, nor had anyone cared one way or the other. It wasn’t as if it was their life on the line. “Dr. S.” was a bitch; a cold ruthless bitch. She had a great life, great kids, great husband and she never needed to worry about there being enough money to pay the bills. All the bitch had to do was make decisions on whether or not someone was capable of murder and whether they were sane or insane when they’d committed it. She never stopped for a moment to think about the damage her opinions would cause or the lives she’d ruin. Nor did she care about the hearts she would break. No, she just did her job as she saw fit and went through her days thinking she was God or something similar, when in fact, she was a failure. Anyone who couldn’t see the truth when it was right in front of their nose was a failure and “Dr. S.” was one of the worst!
Suddenly, Joe dropped the pages on the table, feeling again the icy talons of fear continue to crawl down his spine. Quickly, he read the last page; it took him to the place he’d read previously. He knew now for sure this was all about him, his family, his life … but how? After the paragraph in italics there was only one more page, and it simply stated that he should await the next chapter and not contact the police. If he did so, another murder would take place, only this time it would be someone he knew and loved very much, and it wouldn’t be his Gloria. How could Joe be sure this was about him and his family? It was only a manuscript, but the coincidences were too great and too many. Joe picked up the phone and called Suzanne.
“I’m sorry Mr. Smelt, but Dr. Smelt is currently in consultation with a patient.”
“I don’t give a damn if she’s consulting with the King of England. This is urgent!” Joe yelled, his usual calm demeanor, gone,
“Joe, whatever is the matter?” Suzanne asked finally, as she picked up the phone. Her usually sexy voice now held a definite edge; was it annoyance or concern? Joe suddenly wondered just what his wife did at work and just how good she actually was at her job.
“Suzanne, you’ve got to come home now, immediately,” Joe yelled.
“But Joe, I can’t. I’m in the middle …” she began only to be cut short.
“I don’t give a damn who you’re with. I mean now!” Joe yelled, even louder this time. It was then he heard the doorbell. Without waiting to hear Suzanne’s answer, he slammed down the phone and raced to the door.
“Special delivery for The Publisher, Mr. Joseph Smelt,” the boy said, holding out a board for Joe to sign as he answered the door. It was a yellow 8½ x 11 envelope. Joe immediately knew what was inside.
“Where did you get this?” Joe asked, realizing he immediately sounded foolish.
“From the depot, sir. I was just called back in, as it’s an urgent delivery. Someone probably paid extra or something!”
“But who?” Joe asked, partly under his breath.
“I wouldn’t know, sir. I just need your signature right here. I’m just the delivery boy,” the young freckle-faced youth replied as Joe signed on the line. He forgot to tip the boy in his haste to take the envelope before shutting the door.
Joe tore open the envelope and emptied the contents onto the coffee table. Three sheets of paper written in the same font as the last; the heading was also the same … All About You. Joe’s hands trembled as he stared at the contents on the table. An old-fashioned voice cartridge also fell from the envelope. He recognized it as the same kind they once used in their old answering machine before it was upgraded. Joe raced down to the basement and quickly returned with the old machine. In seconds he was listening to Connor’s voice. “There’s thunder in my head, Dad,” Connor said, sounding none too happy and a little frightened. In the background Joe distinctly heard his daughter’s voice calling to him, “Daddy, Daddy!”
He immediately read through the manuscript. There was more of the same. Joe hoped it would mean more to Suzanne than it did to him. Just where was she? Joe wondered. Then the writer went on to say he required two million dollars, one million for each child in unmarked bills. He wanted the money in a day or two. He said that Joe would soon get another manuscript. He stated that he already knew Joe’s net worth, and what he wanted was chicken feed to Joe, but for him, it would change his life. He also stated he knew about Joe’s father dying and the extra wealth Joe recently inherited.
* * *
Joe felt helpless. He didn’t know what he should be doing, so he sat staring into space for what seemed like ages. Then he moved swiftly to the phone and called the school. Once the numbers were dialled, he closed his eyes and wished hard ? but somehow he already knew what the school would tell him. Somewhere deep inside, Joe was still hoping he was wrong and that it was only a story after all. But Joe instinctively knew this was no hoax and that a crazy person now held his children. Again, he wondered why Suzanne wasn’t home.
“Mr. Smelt, Libby was picked up at morning break. We thought it a bit strange as the man said he was her doctor and showed us a letter signed by you. We tried first to reach your wife who was in a meeting and then tried to reach you at your office, and they said you were at home but the line was busy each time we called. When we turned to the man again, he and Libby had vanished. I’m sorry, Mr. Smelt. Is anything wrong?” the voice at the end of the line asked.
“No, everything’s fine, thank you” Joe coolly replied, trying not to show the desperation he was feeling.
“We were just about to call the authorities, but if you’re sure, Mr. Smelt …?” the voice replied as Joe dropped the phone. Again, Joe sat and tried to clear his head, hoping he could think straight. It proved an impossible task. He picked up the last page of the manuscript and read it again. He knows my net worth. The words stayed in his head; yes, someone else had spoken of his net worth today. “We’ll have a statement of your net worth by Friday …” Joe leapt to his feet as his chair crashed to the floor. He suddenly knew who held his children captive. He found it hard to believe, but it must be Lindon, his accountant for the past twelve years. Who else would know his net worth? Why, he didn’t even know it himself. Seconds later as Joe was about to grab the phone, it rang.
“Yes,” Joe answered none too kindly, thinking it was Suzanne, and ready to give her a piece of his mind.
“Good morning, this is Ric Mack from the LeRoy Simmons Boys Camp. Am I speaking to Mr. Smelt?”
“Yes,” Joe said, wishing he’d hurry up and get off the phone. With each passing moment Joe felt as if he’d kill Lindon Crump. He felt so sure it must be him.
“Mr. Smelt, we have a rather unfortunate incident here at LeRoy. After the boys arrived at camp this morning, they enjoyed a session canoeing on the lake. Connor fits right in and the counsellors remembered him well from last year. A fine boy if I may say so, sir.”
“Yes, yes, thank you.”
“Well, Mr. Smelt, as I said, the boys enjoyed a short time in the canoes before morning break and then went to the showers. Now Connor was never a boy we thought needed special attention or extra observation; he always appeared well balanced and happy. Mr. Smelt, since Connor entered the showers with his friends, we haven’t been able to locate him. No one has seen him since. We’ve been looking for over an hour. I thought I’d contact you before notifying the authorities in case, by chance, he has for some reason made his way home,” Ric Mack paused. Joe realized he was hardly listening; he just wanted to get the guy off the line. Joe knew he needed to say something, as now there was silence.
“Yes, he is on his way home. He just called; sorry he caused so much trouble Mr. …”
“It’s Mack-, sir. We take a very dim view of boys who leave our care without properly notifying us first. This has cost us all a lot of wasted time, you understand Mr. Smelt.”
“I apologize, and I’ll be sure to speak to Connor once he arrives.”
“Well no harm done, I guess. So long as he’s safe, no need to call the authorities in this time then Mr. Smelt.”
“No,” Joe answered.
“This is highly unusual. We take our responsibilities toward our students very seriously here at LeRoy. In the future, Mr. Smelt, if you intend on removing your son from our care, I ask you to notify us ahead of time. Connor was only with us for a few hours. I understand family emergencies do arise, but …”
“I apologize again, Mr. … and thank you for calling,”‘ Joe replied coolly, trying not to sound too abrupt.
“Well Mr. Smelt, so long as you’re sure all is well …” Joe ended the call, paused briefly to find his next number, then dialled as he paced around the room.
“Lindon, what the hell is going on? I know you always said you rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous because you wanted to be one of us, but this, Lindon, this is quite outrageous!” Joe ranted and yelled the moment Lindon answered his phone.
“Joseph Smelt … is that you? Are you drunk or something?” Lindon’s usually calm voice asked.
“What the hell, drunk, Lindon? Of course not, and yes, it’s me. You must have known I’d call. I want this thing over, and over now! If you want your blasted two million, so be it, but this is unthinkable, Lindon. What the hell have you done with them and just where are they?” Joe screamed into the phone, unable to stop himself from shaking, and he had no idea whether it was from anger or relief. He looked up at the sound of Suzanne entering the room. In several steps she’d taken the phone from Joe’s ear and disconnected it.
“Joe, what the hell’s going on? You look half crazy. I’ve never heard you scream at anyone before. The way you spoke to me … are you sick, Joe?” Suzanne asked as she stood in front of him still in her heels and business suit. She looked him squarely in the eye.
“Suz, what the hell did you do that for? I know it’s him, don’t you see? Yes, I was screaming at Lindon! He’s kidnapped our kids!” Joe yelled, holding her shoulders and almost shaking her. Slowly they both sat on the couch as the colour drained from Suzanne’s face and she stared at Joe for a long time, saying nothing. Her thoughts obviously confused; her confusion becoming more noticeable in her deep brown eyes.
“Lindon, our mild-mannered accountant, kidnapped our kids? You are crazy Joe. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Honey, you’re not making any sense at all. Take a breath and start from the beginning. Didn’t you see the kids off to school this morning? Why, they were almost ready when I left, and I passed Janet Blake in my car dropping her eldest daughter off at her friend’s house. She was on her way here, then,” Suzanne said, her face still white.
Joe wasn’t sure where to start, and he didn’t even know if he had the time to start, but suddenly he remembered the manuscript All About You! He grabbed Suzanne by the hand and took her to the table where he showed her the manuscript and told her to read it.
“Joe, at a time like this, you want me to read a manuscript? Have you any idea the importance of the patient I was seeing when you interrupted me? He was not only a high-profile client, but he required his report by this afternoon. You know I’m trying to encourage more celebrities and high-profile clients. This morning when you called, you jeopardized it …” Joe broke into her conversation.
“Just read, Suzanne, just read this, we don’t have much time,” Joe instructed, thrusting the manuscript in front of her. While Suzanne finally read the manuscript, Joe placed a call to his bank manager. As expected, the man said it was highly irregular to arrange that amount of cash on such short notice, but when Joe threatened to take his business elsewhere, the bank manager reluctantly met Joe’s requirements and time frame. Joe then asked him to bring it to his home.
When he returned to Suzanne, he noticed tears running down her face. She was not yet up to the paragraph written in italics, but he had to ask her.
“Suz, does any of this make any sense to you?” She paused, and slowly turned her tear-stained face towards him.
“Yes, Joe, it does, but please let me finish reading,” she answered calmly, as he sat waiting and watching her. The only noise in the house was the ticking of the living room clock, but louder than the clock was the beating of his heart. Suzanne occasionally let out a tiny sob, but other than that, silence prevailed.
After what seemed like an eternity, Suzanne wiped her eyes and looked at Joe. She stood up and hugged him tightly for a long time, shaking her head as she did so.
Finally she said, “I’m sure he’s still in jail, how can this be? Joe, I have to make some calls.” Instead of Suzanne making her calls from the phone in the living room, she went to the study and closed the door, shutting Joe out.
Joe and Suzanne had always enforced an open-door policy in their home, so Joe was shocked at being shut out; he needed Suzanne’s support at the moment more than ever. Some minutes passed. Without thinking, Joe walked toward the study. He didn’t know why, but he stood outside the closed door like an abandoned child. He had no intention of listening to her conversation. Until now, he always treated Suzanne with the utmost respect and shown total trust in her decisions. Even now, it was not his intention to encroach on her privacy and personal space. As he stood close to the door, he heard Suzanne hang up from one call and immediately make another. Joe assumed Suzanne was on the phone to her mother who was recently discharged from the hospital after having a kidney transplant. But from the sound of her voice, Joe realized she was not talking to her mother after all. Suzanne’s voice seemed to become louder as Joe unintentionally listened.
“Oh Lindon, stop being such a baby, of course he doesn’t know…” Then a pause … “Why should he even suspect? Anyway you’ll be pleased to know we’ll have more time together. I employed the new guy at the clinic this morning. I also told Joe I only had one and a half days off a week and not two, so from now on, we’ll have regular time together …” another pause …
“I’m totally sure he doesn’t know, and I don’t know why he called you this morning. Look, Lindon, we’re in the middle of a family crisis, and if I talk much longer, Joe’s going to come looking for me.” Then another pause …
“Stop being so needy, I can’t think straight at the moment. I promise we’ll talk about it later.” Another pause, longer this time …”Lindon, it is very serious. It appears both Connor and Libby have been kidnapped!” Then another slight pause …
“One of my patients … Maybe you can handle that, be discreet …”
“Yes, Lindon, our son, and also my daughter; you do understand that they are both equally important to me …” Another pause …
“Lindon, I don’t like you, or need you, like this. You should be showing me support at a time like this. I’ve gotta go now and …” Joe quietly walked away from the door and when Suzanne finally emerged, he was sitting on the couch where she’d left him. This was all new to Joe, and he decided to store away the conversation he had just overheard between his wife and his accountant until later. At present there were more important things to focus on. He didn’t think his heart could break anymore, but somehow it did.
* * *
“Well Hon, it seems Mark Leon is still behind bars. It has to be him. I’m pretty sure his wife’s name was Gloria. He has a slightly younger brother called Mark Leon; I remember they were very close. Mark is known to be a very discreet and highly sought-after private detective. I can feel it in my bones ? he must be heavily involved. How else can this be happening? Mark Leon has to have someone he can trust on the outside.”
“So what do we do now, Dr. Smelt?” Joe asked, never before referring to her by her title. Then he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. She was a tall, elegant, part-Argentinean woman. Like him, she had mixed-race parents; Joe’s mother was a native of Brazil and his father was American. But Suzanne had no such claim to America as her father was German. Like Joe, she was tall and slim with strong bone structure and long, straight dark brown hair. Joe observed, not for the first time, that she was rather elegant in stature and exotically beautiful. Sadly, he now knew, she was also beautiful to many other men. Joe continued looking at her, until when she turned to give her response to his question, Joe realized sadly he didn’t know her at all. She was so much more complex than he had ever imagined, so deep and devious with so many layers. She was, he now understood, a stranger who shared his house. A stranger whom he thought was his wife ? maybe she had always been just a stranger; too smart, clever and beautiful for him all along. The difference now was that he’d been madly and unconditionally in love with her. How quickly things changed, Joe thought, as he realized Suzanne was pacing the floor and talking to him.
“… so we need to call the school, then camp and then the Police …”
“Didn’t you read the manuscript Suzanne? They’ll harm our children if we call in the authorities. We’re dealing with a very smart guy here, and he’s probably watching and listening to us right now. I won’t jeopardize our children’s safety, Suzanne. I’m going to do exactly what he asks, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll do it your way.”
“Joe, listen to me. I deal with these crazy heads all the time, I know …”
“No, Suzanne you don’t know. If you did, we wouldn’t be in this mess. If you’d dealt with this as you should have, our family wouldn’t be torn apart right now. This is not open for discussion, Suzanne, we’re doing it my way.” He was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door, followed by the door bell ringing. Together they opened the front door. The bank manager stood flanked by two uniformed security guards behind him; Joe was surprised he had come in person. He handed Joe a large briefcase before asking him to sign some papers. Suzanne hovered in the background. Joe signed the papers and received the cash. All the while he prayed she wasn’t going to say anything. The meeting was brief and Joe felt relieved when the door finally closed and Suzanne hadn’t spoken.
“Joe you’re a crazy bastard holding such a large amount of cash in the house. Anyone could break in and steal it before it’s required, and who’s going to stop them?” Suzanne asked with a whine in her voice. Joe didn’t like where this was going, sounding harsher than he felt, he replied,
“Suzanne, I will stop them. I am not in the mood to be trifled with. Not by anyone,” he said harshly, directing his last words at her.
“Well, Joe, if you’re seriously going to give in to all the kidnapper’s demands, perhaps you’d better call Janet and tell her not to pick up Libertine from school; she’ll be leaving right about now. And then you can sit down and tell me just how this manuscript happened to be in your possession in the first place? Was it received by your office, and if so, who took delivery of it?”
Joe quickly called Janet on her cell. After he hung up, Joe realized he hadn’t thought of speaking to his employees. Just why he hadn’t thought to do so he couldn’t imagine. It really didn’t matter any longer how this had happened, immediate damage control was required. If Suzanne wanted to blame, Joe would ignore her as now was not the right time. Joe knew the only thing of importance at this very moment was how this dreadful situation could be rectified. Suzanne’s cross-examining him wouldn’t help the situation at all. Joe had never noticed before just how she managed to control everything, but now he was seeing her in a new light. He knew he didn’t much like her, and her controlling way must stop. He made an executive decision right there. He would ignore any comments that weren’t helpful to the course.
“Joe, it’s a waiting game,” Suzanne said quietly, sitting on the edge of the chair as her tears began again trickling down her cheeks.
“Get Martha to make some tea, Joe.” Joe had heard this many times before, but this time he wondered why Suzanne couldn’t ask Martha herself.
“It’s Martha’s day off, Suzanne,” Joe replied calmly as his mind continued to race.
“Oh. Joe, make me a cup of tea,” Suzanne ordered.
“No, Suzanne, you make us both a cup of tea.” Suzanne stopped and wiped her eyes before looking at him with a hardness in her face he had never noticed before.
“Joe, I have never made tea in my life. I don’t like cooking; you knew that when you married me. I don’t intend to find my way around the kitchen now.” Before their conversation got heated, a loud knock came from the front door, followed by the sound of the doorbell. They rushed to the door. Upon opening it, they found another delivery boy standing there dressed in the same uniform as the previous boy.
“Urgent delivery for The Publisher, Mr. Smelt. You Mr. Smelt?” the boy asked, addressing Joe.
“Then, sign here, sir,” the boy said. Moments later, Joe took possession of another page-size envelope. It was the same as the last.
“Just where do you get these deliveries from, young man, and who is giving them to you?” Suzanne questioned, stepping forward, almost pushing Joe out of the way.
“Urgent delivery, Ma’am, I pick them up at the depot. No one actually gives them to me. I’m the ‘on call, urgent delivery boy’ today, although any of us who are sitting around can take it,” the boy said, backing away sensing there wouldn’t be any tip from this house today.
“What’s your name, boy? Do you have identification and employee number?” Suzanne asked, her tone severe as she advanced slightly outside the door toward him.
“Yes Ma’am I do,” the boy quickly replied, stepping backwards and looking rather uncomfortable. Joe took out the first note he could find from his wallet. Moving past Suzanne, he handed it to the boy who eagerly took the $20 and fled.
Neither of them noticed the car parked a discreet distance from their house. Two men sat inside; one held powerful binoculars trained on the Smelt’s front entrance, but today, no one saw them.
“Joe, how dare you undermine my authority? All I wanted was to obtain his ID number; after all he could have been anybody.”
“Suzanne let’s just look inside the envelope. Our children are being held somewhere against their will. They’re no doubt scared, probably hungry and maybe hurt and they need us, so time is of the essence. It achieves nothing to be questioning the delivery boy; whether he is the real deal or not is of no importance whatever to our children.”
“Joe, I don’t think you realize the importance of getting all the facts. These crazy heads have a certain way of doing things. We’re probably dealing with someone who harbours a huge amount of anger and resentment for something he has interpreted a certain way, whether it is correct or not, he will believe it is so, and as a result, he will react on those certain beliefs as they manifest themselves further. These people are seldom rational, never logical and usually have trouble focusing on anything for very long. I’m used to dealing with them. It’s what I do, and I do it every day. Why not let me handle this my way, honey?” Suzanne said, placing her hand softly on his shoulder. There was a time not so long ago when he would have immediately responded to her touch, but now that time had passed.
Joe moved to the table and tore open the envelope, again there was a tape, and this time just three sheets of paper inside. Joe immediately picked up the tape and placed it in the player.
“Joe, you’re a smart man, unlike that stupid bitch of a wife of yours. If I were you I wouldn’t be keeping her too much longer. I’m glad you’re taking me seriously; we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your little darlings now, would we? At this stage they’re still alive and just to prove it, here they are, but before you hear their voices, just remember Joe, their young lives depend solely on you. Look what Dr. S. did to me, well Joe, be careful, she could double-cross you too. And Joe there’s a lot riding on this. Keep a close eye on her. She never sees what’s right under her nose or maybe she’s just too stupid to understand what’s right under her nose. Anyway my instructions are written on the accompanying pages. Read them carefully Joe and follow them to the latter. If you do, this can be resolved very soon. By the way, when this is all over I want this published, Mr. Publisher! “
Connor’s voice then came on the tape, he sounded fainter and more scared than before.
“Dad, Mom, there’s old grand diddy tree trunks in my soul …” Then Libby’s very small and frightened voice, “Daddy, Mommy, what he means is we’re cold and scared, and …” The tape stopped. Suzanne and Joe were sobbing as they began reading the three pages carefully. There were more notes on Mark Leon and the things he hadn’t been allowed to say. As Suzanne read, she nodded her agreement unknowingly. He then spent another page ranting about her personally. But the last page was the most important, as it stated how she was to get Mark Leon released from jail within the next 24 hours. Only then would they be told where to leave the money and have a chance of seeing their children alive. The last paragraph warned them again not to contact the police or any other authorities.
“Suzanne, if there’s any way you can do this, you must do it and do it now. Whatever it takes, Suzanne,” Joe demanded while they both tried to regain some composure. Joe was ready for her to give him a thousand reasons just why she couldn’t allow Mark Leon to have his freedom. Instead she rose from her chair and headed toward the study.
“Suzanne, what are you going to do?” Joe asked nervously, getting up to follow her.
“Whatever I can Joe, whatever I can. Wait here, I need to make some calls.” Suzanne headed toward the study, and as before, she shut the door behind her. The moment she did so Joe quietly went to the door and gently put his ear against it. She was talking quite loudly so he needn’t have bothered. He could hear her quite clearly talking to the District Attorney. The thing that worried Joe most was the intimacy in Suzanne’s voice as she spoke to the DA. Not just like a friend but more like a secret lover. Joe thought he would vomit but somehow managed to stand his ground and listen. Five minutes later, she hung up and made another call. Joe returned to the couch just moments before she emerged.
“It’s done Joe; he’ll be a free man before midnight. I really had to call in some huge favours, but I did it,” Suzanne concluded, a look of triumph and power on her face. It lasted only moments before it was replaced by utter despair that mirrored his own.
“Are you sure Suzanne? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Joe, it’s done.”
“So, what do we do now, just sit and wait?”
“Yes, Joe, I guess we just sit and wait …”
* * *
And that’s just what they did. Several hours later, Suzanne made another call and was able to confirm to Joe that Mark Leon was now officially a free man and that his brother Mark was waiting for him upon his release. Suzanne then pointed out that they may never see their children again now that Mark Leon was free. But Joe reminded her that two million dollars was a great deal of money and they still had it and Chuck needed it.
“He’ll be around,” Joe said, sounding more convincing than he felt, and they sat and waited. The minutes ticked by; they seemed like hours as together they watched the clock, thought of their children and cried.
Hours passed as they waited and nothing happened. No manuscripts arrived, no phone calls, nothing. When Martha returned and put her key in the lock, they both jumped. Joe knew he had another dilemma now. What to tell Martha? Or if he should tell her at all, but Joe soon realized not telling her would prove impossible.
“Evening Mr. Joe and Ms. Suzanne. Children all tucked up in bed? It’s mighty quiet in here. I thought you were both asleep also ….” Martha continued as she looked at their tear-stained faces. Martha stood in the middle of the room, and without a word, the colour leached from her face. It was then Joe noticed the envelope she was carrying under her arm.
“Martha, where did you get that envelope?” Joe asked, jumping to his feet and snatching it from her. Suzanne’s eyes also noticed she was carrying something.
“Why Mr. Joe, it was stuck in the front door. I picked it up when I arrived. It’s addressed to The Publisher. I could have sworn I saw the figure of a man all dressed in black disappear into the bushes as the lights from my cab turned back onto the street. What’s happened?” Joe disregarded her last question as he tore it open. This time it contained only one sheet of paper. Joe read it in seconds before handing it to Suzanne. It simply said that they were to leave the money in the bush at the front of their property and in return they would be told where to pick up their children. It assured them their children were, at this moment, alive and well. They should not think about this too long as things can change very quickly. Again they were warned about getting the authorities involved.