Between Right and Wrong Page 3

  Tonight was Pam’s costume party. Though Phil felt the relationship with Pam was uncomfortable, she always put together fun parties for all of the neighborhood. Pam’s back yard gate was open for the guests. The neighborhood was non-descript to a fault with rows of houses that had similar design and colors. Most of the houses were brick with some wood shutters and a few stone accents thrown in to change the individual looks, typical of Dallas suburbs.

  Pam’s back yard was a change of scenery. The pool was odd shaped and had a waterfall to one side. The privacy fence was multi colored but tasteful. The yard was a mixture of grass and stone walk with LED accent lighting casting shadows on the stone and waterfall. Outside the back door of the house was a covered patio with a fire place and bar. Pam had tables of food awaiting guests, a bar tender serving drinks, and a DJ played dance music, tastefully. Party lights were strung along each side of the patio. It appeared the whole neighborhood had shown up. The back yard was fairly large but was already full of people.

  Phil was taking note of the party crowd when he was interrupted, “hey Pirate, promise to behave or I may have to arrest you before the fun really starts.”

  “Hello Pam,” Phil noticed the police costume fit her well. “I promise to behave.”

  “Darn, I was hoping you would resist.” Pam pouted.

  “Great looking party, Pam.” Phil complemented.

  “We are just getting started; hey do you dance?”

  “I’m afraid I have two left feet, sorry Pam; I’m sure there are plenty of dance partners here you could find.”

  “Pam”

  “Yes mysterious Pirate?”

  “I think we should talk and clear something up.”

  “Darn Phil, this doesn’t sound like party talk.”

  “I want to make sure you don’t have the wrong idea about me.”

  “Like what?” Pam was serious for once.

  “Like I respect your marriage and I like Don. I, I, well, I keep getting a vibe you are flirting with me.”

  Pam frowned and Phil felt bad for bringing the subject up at a party, of all times.

  “Phil, things aren’t always as they seem, I mean, well, I…” her sentence was interrupted by a woman’s scream.

  “Help him, help him!” she yelled.

  Phil was running towards the scream as a reaction. The woman was pointing in the water and Phil dove in. The man was at the bottom of the pool, motionless. Phil scooped him up and brought him to the poolside in one motion, rolling him up on the stone walk. Wiping the water from his eyes, Phil was pulling himself up next to the man to start respirations, when the man sat up sheepishly. Phil recognized him as one of the younger men in the neighborhood.

  “Dude, you weren’t exactly who I wanted to save me.”

  Phil shook his head and stood up. “Really,” he thought, “this guy’s best move was pretending to drown so a girl would rescue him? What is the world coming to? ”

  Phil walked away and looked back. The girl was obviously not impressed.

  Pam found her way next to him. “Very impressive, mister.” She smiled.

  “Thanks Pam, think I’ll call it a night, I have to do some work tomorrow.”

  “I understand. We should finish our conversation someday soon though.” Pam smiled and patted his wet arm as he left to go home.

  “Such a strange world.” Phil was thinking as he walked across the street to his house, leaving a trail from the dripping water. “I’m a square peg in a round hole.” He wondered if there would ever be a place or time where he felt he really belonged.

  CHAPTER 5

  Saturdays usually found Phil with Roo working on exercises the dog trainer had taught him. Phil had sent Roo to a trainer as a puppy and it was money well spent. Roo excelled at hunting and loved the times they spent in the woods and on the lake. He was always well behaved and obedient.

  It was a relaxing time for Phil and a fun game for Roo. They would go to the lake where Phil would throw several training dummies, called bumpers, in the water in different directions and at different distances. Phil would line up Roo and ‘send’ him to each bumper location. One after another Roo would dive in the water full speed, swim out to the selected bumper, grab it in his mouth and bring it back to Phil. The exercise was obviously fun for Roo who never stopped wagging his tail even as he swam, and; it kept him sharp for the upcoming duck season.

  After the training session, Phil would drive over to the storage unit to work on his small boat, performing maintenance, or adding things such as lights or different seats to make his hunts better. The tinkering was a form of therapy where the mind could concentrate only on today’s task. Phil often found himself getting somewhat extreme in his improvements. Remote controlled trolling motors and motorized duck blinds were not commonly part of simple fifteen foot Jon boats.

  Phil was back home replacing the lines and weights on his decoys, when he remembered he had not reviewed the pictures from the game cameras retrieved from the Elm Street property. The sun was setting as Phil grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened his computer while gathering the memory drives from his duffle. Roo followed Phil everywhere and usually lay under the desk at his feet as he worked, chewing on a bone or an antler. He had downloaded all the pictures to a directory and was starting to look at each picture when the phone rang. He leaned over to pick up the desk phone.

  The call was from area code 202-Washington DC. “Damn telemarketers” Phil thought, “If this is AARP I told you guys I am too young…”

  “Colonel Warner?”

  “Who is this, please?” Phil quizzed.

  “A friend letting you know…. it’s better to stay out of the building on Elm Street.” The caller hung up.

  “What was it about that caller that sounded familiar?” Phil wondered.

  “Ok,“ Phil thought, “now I am really curious.” Hoping the trail cameras gave him some insight, Phil opened up the lap top again to start looking at the pics.

  Roo’s head was up, ears perked looking at the back of the house and Phil noticed at once.

  Phil loved gadgets. Automation and useful electronics were sort of a hobby. One of the first projects Phil had completed after he purchased his house, was to harden the door frames with a strap steel insert between the door jams and the walls. He had holes cut in them so the door could not be kicked in. The strap acted like a support for the door jams so the strike and deadbolt throw were surrounded by the steel support. He had also installed motion detectors on the rear of the house and a photo eye across the back door opening as well as the door to the garage. There were three indicator panels: one by his desk in the study, which is where he worked on the computer; one in the bedroom, and one in the kitchen. If someone or something got too close to the house, the motion detectors lit a light on the panels- indicating which detector was sensing. The photo eyes performed a similar function. If the beam was broken, a light turned on in the panel as well as a light over the door. These lights were small LEDs so only someone close to the panel or the door could see them. They were simple but effective.

  The panel lights indicated motion to his left in the back yard. The neighborhood Phil lived in was laid out without alleyways. Privacy fence surrounded the back and side yards and adjoined to his side and back neighbors. Anything in the back yard had to cross a fence or fly in.

  Phil reached under the desk to a concealed holster, pulling out his pistol, along with an extra clip. From the drawer, he slid a blackjack in his offhand jean pocket. Phil gave Roo the ‘sit’ command which also meant ‘stay and quiet’ while he silently slipped to the wall behind the back door. It was normally unlocked until they went to bed so he waited to see if there was an intruder. Phil saw the door handle slowly turn and the door swing carefully open as a red laser dot moved from the doorway across the carpet. A dark figure quietly slipped inside the door, head first with gun raised slightly. Phil put the intruder to sleep with a swift swing of the blackjack to the back of the head.

  CHA
PTER 6

  The man slowly aroused. As he opened his eyes, he felt the bonds. He was sitting in a chair, arms and legs duct taped to its metal structure. When his eyes cleared it was apparent he was in a garage or shop. There was a light shining toward him. To his left was a semi clear plastic tarp with what looked like a human figure under it and red, blood red, smeared inside the tarp as if someone or something had bled out. To his right was a similar tarp laid flat on the ground in a square. His clothes were gone except for his underwear and socks. The duct tape was neatly wrapped around his wrists and from what he could feel, his ankles.

  Phil walked out from behind the light. There was a large carving knife in his hand.

  “Your name?” Phil’s voice was even and low.

  “I, I, what is this?” the man’s voice trembled as did his hands.

  “Name?” Phil spoke louder stepping closer to the man, knife in hand.

  “Mister this is a mistake, I don’t understand, I..”

  Phil cut him off, “Name?” he stepped closer this time, “I am not asking again.”

  “Mickey,” the man cried.

  “Mickey what?”

  “Mickey Hughes.” He voice squeaked.

  “What was your partner’s name?” Phil used the knife to point at the bloody plastic to the man’s left.

  Mickey urinated and Phil thought the man was going to faint.

  “Partner?” Mickey looked blank and continued to tremble. “I was alone.” His brow furrowed, face turning white.

  “Honest, there is only me. What, who is that?” Mickey was looking even more ill than before.

  “Guess he was telling the truth after all.” Phil casually commented with a shrug. “Well, I would say if you don’t want to join him, perhaps you should give quicker, better answers.”

  “Mister,” Mickey pleaded, almost screaming “I have a wife and baby, please, please don’t kill me!”

  “Ok Mickey, I’ll make a deal with you, if I think you are truthful, then we’ll talk. I can’t say I am always a good judge though, as evidence to your left.” Phil smiled which made tears run down Mickey’s face.

  “Why did you come to my house?”

  “I was sent here to get information on you, dirt, that’s all, honest.”

  “You had a gun. I’m not sure I believe you. Spill your guts or I will.” Phil knew he wouldn’t have to prove it.

  “The boss sent me to get any info on you I could. You know, anything they could blackmail you with. I wasn’t given any other direction. Letters to girlfriends, pictures with important people, um, if you was gay, any evidence, drugs in the house, like I said, that’s all they said. I wasn’t to steal anything or leave any sign, just get the info and leave. I saw a truck leave from in front of your house so I honestly thought you were gone. That’s it honest, that’s all.

  “You aren’t being honest Mickey,” Phil tapped the knife blade on his palm and circled Mickey’s chair.

  “What, what, anything you want to know, I don’t know what you want!” he was crying now.

  “You left out who you work for.”

  “Paul, Paul Odem.”

  “And?” Phil sounded impatient.

  “I am on the maintenance crew. Paul is the Chief Mechanic. I got the job as a condition of parole. They hire only con’s then make us do whatever.” He was speaking quicker now, taking great breaths in between sentences. “We don’t really have much choice. It’s Paul’s way or back to the pen. Sir, I wish I’d stayed in but when Peggy said she was pregnant, I had to support her. I ain’t like Paul or some of the others. I was only in the pen cuz’ I broke into a house to get paid for what a guy owed me. I didn’t know his school buddy was a judge, a JP. They said I took $20k but I only took the $500 he owed me. Please mister, I got Peggy and Trey my son.” He was sobbing with his head down.

  “What company do you work for and why do they want info on me?” Phil turned the light up.

  “I work for Second Chance. They don’t want anyone buying the Elm Street building yet for some reason. Paul was the one who whacked you. He likes to hide in shadows and he likes to push everyone around. He was bragging on how he knocked you out so easy. Don’t take him lightly, he’s a big dude and knows it.

  “How long have you worked for them?”

  “A year. And I got a year to go. They have some kind of clout. One of the guys screwed up a job and he was back inside jail in a week, with extra time to boot.”

  “Is Paul the top dog?”

  “No, but I don’t know who is.” Phil was walking behind him. Tears streamed down Mickey’s face. “Please, I am telling the truth. Paul is the only one who knows, Paul only Paul.” He cried.

  “I don’t know if I can trust you Mickey.”

  “YES, yes you can, please, please; I’ll give you all my money, I’ll give you all I got, please, my wife and kid are all I got, all I love. Please, you got to believe me, I didn’t have a choice but to come here and do this job!”

  “I want to believe you Mickey, but all I got is your word. I let you go and you could go tell Paul all this.”

  “He would kill me if he finds out. Hell he would kill Peggy.” Mickey was sobbing like a child. “I guess I’m dead anyway you look at it.” His head hung loosely, skin white. Phil hid the sorrow he felt at this guy. He believed him but had to insure Mickey would not ever spill any information about what happened tonight.

  “Mickey, I want to believe you. You can see by the guy beside you, my track record isn’t anything to brag about; so I am going to leave it up to you to convince me. How can I trust you? What can you do for me?”

  Mickey’s face regained some color, “Mister you tell me what you want and it’s yours. Anything but my wife and son. I don’t know what they are scared of with you, but I can be your spy. I can find out what they want with that building and, and anything, anything!”

  “Mickey I don’t even know if you have a wife.”

  Mickey’s face lit up more. “Google me.”

  “What?”

  “Google Mickey and Peggy Hughes in Forney Texas” Mikes face showed hope.

  “Why” Phil’s voice was flat, his look that of un-belief.

  “Because, because, Trey was the first baby born at Baylor Hospital last year. We were in the paper!” now his voice had hope.

  Phil left the garage without saying a word. Mickey sat still. Like a death row inmate on the last night, he prayed. Perhaps Mickey found God in those 10 minutes, or maybe remembered Him.

  Phil strolled back in the room, knife in hand and Roo by his side.

  “Last test Mickey.”

  “Whatever you say boss.” Mickey replied, trying his best for hope to live.

  “If the dog wags his tail at you, I will cut you lose. If he growls, there may be more wrong with you than I can trust.” Phil knew Roo was a slut for a pet from a visitor. Any stranger outside the house or the car was looked on by Roo as a possible threat, but once inside and friendly, they were attention and if Phil liked them, Roo liked them.

  Phil looked at Roo, who was sitting, looking at Phil’s face for a command. “Ok boy”

  Roo walked over to Mickey sniffed and wagged, probably wondering why this man was not petting him.

  “Ok Mickey, here’s the rules. I cut you lose. You take that towel and clean up your mess. Don’t touch the plastic. Get dressed and we will work out our contact methods.”

  “Mister thank you.” Mickey could only say as tears streamed down his face.

  “You can’t go back empty handed. How were you to gather the info?”

  “Phone pics” Mickey was getting dressed.

  “I’ll be right back.” Phil took Mickey’s phone from the workbench where he had laid out all of the pocket contents from the man’s jeans.

  Phil took pictures of the tool bench, his Degree in the hallway, and his dresser top. “Take a look Mickey. Any other things you would normally take a picture of?”

  “This was my first time doing this for them. They wan
t to know if you were married or dating, if there was any sign of you being the Law, or, well, you know kinky stuff. Maybe they want something to hold over your head.”

  Phil thought for a moment, “Why is that building so active? What are you guys doing in there?”

  Mickey looked thoughtful, “They don’t trust me. There is a room in the basement I am not allowed into. Really until this week, they were training me to do building maintenance. There was always this strange feeling about Paul. I mean besides him being a prick. Maybe the tunnels you hear about?”

  “Tunnels?” Phil had not thought of them. Dallas had tunnels that connected buildings but had been told the ones that were no longer in use were closed up permanently.

  Phil gave Mickey instructions on how they would leave signals for each other then sent Mickey out the back door to go back the way he come. After Mickey was in the next yard, Phil launched his drone. It had night vision. The drone ran silent and high. Phil followed Mickey on camera until he got in his car. Convinced he was alone and not followed, Phil recalled the drone.

  Phil brought a plastic leaf sack into the garage to clean up. He rolled up the red stained plastic, along with the old moving blankets he had formed into the ‘body’ and the mess Mickey had left, dumping the bag into the trash can. His thoughts were on the pictures downloaded on his computer.

  Phil kept the inside lights low as a defensive tactic. If an unforeseen intrusion occurred, he could slip into the shadows and work himself to the many weapons hidden in tactical spots around the house. These spots were engineered in the house. A pistol under a couch cushion was not Phil’s idea of readiness. Everything was hidden. An umbrella stand held a cane which was also a 12 gauge shotgun. The design was old but the cane was manufactured by a company in South America and proven to be reliable. In the kitchen, a false bottom to a drawer held a 9 mm with two clips. In the hallway, the doorbell tilted upward to reveal a shelf where a tactical flashlight, pepper spray, and a 357 magnum revolver rested. The bedroom headboard held a hidden vault with an AR15, extra ammunition, a 12 gauge pump, an extra phone, a flashlight, and extra car keys. The bookshelf in the bedroom was a Murphy door. Lifting the hidden latch opened a passage to the garage. Knives, strikers, and razors were hidden in the same such manner in every room. Phil practiced movements through the house to get to all of the hidden places silently and routinely removed each items; checking them for function and cleaning them. One never knew when an old enemy might come calling. He had to be prepared.