Sample 2
From somewhere deep inside the house a rumble of indistinguishable voices was barely audible through the double-pained windows. Long shadows moved across the foyer floor, stopping occasionally as arm shadows projected anger at some one else on the other side of the expansive home.
A woman’s feet appeared in nylon stockings. A foyer closet door opened. Someone yelled far away from the front door. She flung calf-length winter boots toward the steps leading upstairs. A coat ripped from hanger and a closet door slammed shut. A larger shadow moved toward the smaller one, making the composite shape grotesque. Their voices grew louder as they approached the front door and each word was overheard on the other side of frosted window glass.
“Honey, don’t go. Let’s talk this over.”
“Go to hell, you’re never going to leave your wife.”
“I will. I promise as soon as this business with the company is finished.”
“What does one have to do with the other?”
“Plenty. You’re nuts if you think I’m going to wait forever.”
“Look Von, this will all be over in a few months. There will be a big investigation—maybe a trial. After that we’ll be free to do what we want.”
“You idiot! Go ahead and drink yourself into another stupor. I’ve had enough of that too,” the woman said as she sat on the stairs to put on her boots. “We’ve got twenty-million between us. Let’s take it and run like hell.”
In the full light of the foyer, the hidden observer recognized Yvonne Taylor’s beautiful face.
“Look, if we don’t stick together on this we’ll do jail time. The first ones who show weakness will be the scapegoats for everyone,” Walter pleaded.
“Wait hell! I can’t take this anymore Walter. I can’t live my life sneaking around dodging your wife and family and running from the Feds because of Common Cause. All the Attorney General has to do is wave his magic wand and he’ll indict everyone of us.”
“Von, honey, wait,” he said reaching for her hand.
“Get out of my way. I’m leaving,” she said while struggling to her feet.
Walter grabbed her by the coat. “Von, we’ve had some great times together, don’t leave like this. If we’re patient, all of this will blow over.”
“You’re mad. You’re forgetting the other little detail. All the good times and money isn’t worth much if you get your neck cut. Is it?”
“Look, it’s just a coincidence, and that accountant, what’s the guy’s name?”
“Nagel,” she added.
“Yes, Nagel. That happened six months ago.”
“See what you know! It was two months ago, last December that someone tracked him down at a hotel and sliced his neck. Two days ago, Leon Andress got the same treatment.”
Walter tried to use brute force to push her into the living room. Yvonne’s knee was quick to respond and Walter dropped to his knees and then fell to his side in excruciating pain gasping for breath.
“Stay here and get your neck cut,” she said and stormed out of the house leaving the front door wide open.
The observer waited until Yvonne Taylor walked in front of the house toward the driveway at the far end of the property and drove away in her gray Lexus. Mortensen, who was only beginning to draw a breath, started to crawl toward the living room sofa. With the door wide open, the streets and sidewalk deserted, and Mortensen barely able to move the observer left the cover of the pine tree and entered the house.
“You’ve really hurt me, Von, after all I’ve done for you,” Mortensen said thinking the sound approaching him belonged to his guilt-ridden lover. “Help me up, will you Von?” he said and then he felt the cold steel against his neck.
“Not what you expected, is it Mr. Walter Mortensen, Mr. Chief Information Officer, Mr. Member of the Common Cause Board of Directors,” a soft voice said.
He felt a hand slide through his scalp and yank his head toward the floor. “What do you want?”
“I want you to tell me about the ten million dollars.”
“You can have the money, just don’t kill me,” Walter begged.
“I don’t want your filthy money. Tell me where it came from.”
“Pendergast. It came from Pendergast,” he gasped as the keen edge of the knife touched the nerves just under the skin on his neck.
“Who got the money?”
“All the senior executives, we just had to go along with Pendergast’s plan for the company.”
“Pendergast is a rich man, but he doesn’t have that kind of money. Where did he get the money from?”
“I don’t know! I swear I don’t.”
“Slide slowly on the floor, towards the foyer.”
“Why?”
“Do it now or you’re dead.”
He pushed slowly toward the foyer.
“Why are you doing this?” Walter asked.
“I have several reasons, but I understand what a pretty woman can do to a man’s sense of right and wrong, so let’s keep it simple, Walter. If I don’t give you what you deserve, nobody else will. This is for all the employees and investors you screwed, Walter. Did you ever think about any of them?”
A knee held him flat on the floor and the sharp knife pressed hard against his neck until a small rivulet of blood trickled down his neck and dropped to the tile floor.
“Oh Walter, I moved you to the foyer so the blood wouldn’t ruin Mrs. Mortensen’s beautiful Oriental rug.
With a slight increase in pressure, the knife sliced his carotid artery in half.