Private Voices: Part 09

Updated on February 6, 2020
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Mike is a long-time supporter of procrastination and enjoys doing as often as he can.

The Story So Far

Janice James is a Private Detective haunted by the death of her son and a fractured psyche, forcing her to see her son Brandon as well as others. After a ceremony to honor their late son, Janice and her ex-husband Bill prepare to live together again. Janice's assistant, a young woman named Jennifer Gordon known as JG, while happy to see them together now must find a way to work around the new awkwardness.

Stanley Franco hired Janice to find out why his wife Ava is fighting a divorce. During the investigation, she stumbled onto a unique counterfeiting scheme designed to infect scanning machines allowing the user access to a company's funds. When her client was murdered, Janice turned her case over to the local police. She contacted someone from the secret service with help from her mentor, a former police officer named Sean. In the process, she found herself being watched by the FBI and Ava, a woman that isn't who she appears to be.

Samuel Saunders, an old friend of Bill, hired Janice to help his wife, Margaret. He thought she might be the victim of a blackmail scheme involving her past. Just as Janice was willing to give up, she followed Margaret to Steve's Hotel in Green, Ohio. Margaret met with her boss Gregg Allen and a teenage boy where they engaged in some sort of sex act. A former student blackmailed her, and Her boss seeking revenge for his expulsion for assaulting a student putting him on a sex registry. He sold the videos of the teenage boy on the dark web. With the help of Janice, the police, and her husband, Margaret came forward and helped end a pedophile ring and lock up around 65 people.

Ava, the wife and murderer of her husband Stanley Franco, while in hiding at Steve's Motel, watched Janice watch the strange events wondering what was going on. Ava killed the teenage boy to cover her tracks. She escaped to Mexico.

Part Nine, Chapter Three

Dennis Scott sat on a bench next to a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. This was the usual way a person hides alcohol when in a park, but Dennis didn't drink, and even if he did, this wouldn't be the day for a drink in the park. The man hiring him said to be in the park with a bottle of Arizona Tea in a bag with the top showing and wait for someone to approach. As he sat there, several people stared, but no one approached. Dennis had the nickname of K Bar but not for the knife Ka-Bar brand military knife used by the Marines but because he likes to use a crowbar on his victims and K fits in the group. Dennis, Jac "K Nine" Deric and Billy Ray "K Sea" Jacks were known as the Tre Ks although they had no actual connection to the Ku Klux Klan. When you hired the Tre Ks, you hired chaos in a can. If something needed broke or someone needed to be broken, you hired the Tre Ks.

Dennis hated what he called the "hide and seek BS," and he was ready to walk away when a man in a tweed jacket walked up. He was dressed in a tweed jacket over a tweed vest, a white shirt, a burgundy bow tie, and slacks. He sat next to Dennis, who looked out of place in jeans and a dirty Slipknot t-shirt.

Dennis said, "look unless you're the guy from that note, then you better get your gay ass off that seat before I kick your ass worse than Aids."

The man just smiled and said, "Mister Scott, I would kill you right now, but I was hired to retain you and your group's assistance, so can we just get on with this, so I can get back to screwing your wife."

Dennis just looked at this man for a second or two, then he broke out in a laugh.

He said, "that's not how we do business. We never meet in person, and there are never written physical instructions. Go to the site pay for what you want, then go to the thread listed on the receipt."

The man Dennis would call Prissy Twit said, "consider it done."

He went to get up when Dennis asked, "why the meeting?"

The man said, "I wanted to see your face. I also wanted you to know that if you fail or speak to the authorities, then my face will be the last thing you see."

A few hours later, Dennis and Billy-Ray sat in a parked 1984 primer gray El Camino watching their target.

Billy-Ray said, "Dam K-Bar did the fag say anything about this being above a cop bar. I counted at least ten pigs in the hour we sat here."

Dennis didn't answer; he just thought about the look on the man's face. The resolve that made him think about the job and if it was worth the money.

Dennis said, "the guy wants the place burned and the chick dead. I bet that we could do both and kill some pigs with a big bomb."

Billy-Ray replied, "You know this means we need that Arab. I hate doing business with that raghead."

Dennis pulled out his phone and looked up John Smith. It was most likely nowhere near his real name, but it didn't matter. The man knew bombs, and it was what they needed. Hector Ernesto Ramon Garcia was raised as a Catholic. He found that with a Pakistani keffiyeh and a fake accent, most of his clients wouldn't have known he was from Kentucky and not the middle east. One of his VoIP numbers got a call from the Tre Ks.

He said to himself, "great, I wonder what the redneck retards wanted."

The bomb was simple but heavy. All Hector had to do was place it in the room, then point the laser at the door. A minute later, the laser would become the trigger, and the bomb would go off when the beam was broken. Most of the weight was from the canisters of napalm that would spread and consume the office and bar. The job included killing the woman but not the girl. Dennis figured that she would be a bonus. One that all three of them would share. All they needed was for the woman to leave, then they could go to work. About an hour later, Janice left the office for the day. For once, she didn't have any open cases. JG stayed behind so she could study in peace away from her roommates and the eternal party that was her shared apartment. Their first goal was the hardest and wasn't a part of the paying gig. They needed to take the girl without alerting the bar full of police below.

A knock at the door woke JG from a study coma. She went to the door and opened it, receiving the probe ends of a taser. She fell to the floor as the jolts shook her petite frame.

Before she passed out, the man with the gun said, "well now little missy aren't we gonna have some fun."

Dennis taped JG using the entire roll of duct tape as Billy-Ray and Jac placed the bomb and canisters around the room, placing them where they were told to maximize the blast and fire. The one that hired them watched the three do their work from a panel van. He took off his hat then the fake beard. With the hat and beard off, it was clear that he was a she. Bethany Smyth changed into a pair of black Capri slacks, a black sleeveless blouse, and a rose-covered scarf.

Bethany called her employer, "the boys are doing their work."

The person on the other side of the call said nothing.

Bethany asked, "do we pay them or take them out when the job is done?"

Ava said, "dealers' choice, but if you can, it would be better to leave nothing behind."

Bethany replied, "They are taking the girl."

Ava thought about it saying, "too bad for her. Let them do whatever they are going to do, then make sure and finish the job."

JG woke up with her feet tied to one end of a table and her hands tied to the other. She was stretched out, facing down and naked. A hand caressed a butt cheek.

A male voice said, "it would be a crime not to take a little something."

Another voice said, "get your hands off her. She is worth more as is and not used."

Jac leaned in and whispered, "I'll give him an hour, then I'll take what's mine, little girl."

JG's mouth was taped shut, and they had her stretched out, so she couldn't move. Bethany watched them as she thought about her past and what she had said she would do if she found someone in the same trouble.

About an hour later, Dennis said, "We found a buyer, and little girl, you'll wish you died in the fire."

Bethany got up and said, "time's up."

© 2019 Michael Collins aka Lakemoron


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