The hidden cameras caught everything.  With the help of two of  Discreet’s best operative, it had only taken minutes to gain entry to Rebecca’s apartment, and about half an hour to install the cameras. 

Both David and Ray were shocked by what was unfolding on the screen.  Lester Schuster entered the apartment, removed his leather jacket, and headed for the kitchen.  Once in the kitchen, he poured himself a tall glass of orange juice and headed for the bedroom, where he removed his mustache and wig, before consuming the juice.  Underneath the wig, was a crop of bright red hair and what both men assumed at first was Rebecca Schuster. 

He or rather, she, hid the jacket and wig beneath the floorboards of the closet before removing his shirt and jeans.  Another shock.  Wrapped tightly around Lester Schuster’s chest was a piece of heavy duty white sheeting which was being used to flatten a pair of ample breasts.

As David and Ray watched, the person on the screen continued moving around the apartment getting undressed and redressed.  This time as a woman.

The phone rang and a decidedly masculine voice answered the phone and said, “No she’s not here right now.  Oh, me, I’m her cousin, Lester.  I’ll give her the message when she comes in.”  When Lester Schuster hung up, the voices started. 

  “What did they want?”

“None of your damn business, bitch.  It was for Rebecca.”

“It most certainly is my business.  I work there remember.  Now what did they say.”

“What makes you think it was work?”

“Who else would call here?  Now what did they want.”

“Nothing that you need to worry about or be a part of.”

At first David thought perhaps the audio part of the equipment was malfunctioning, but when he saw Ray cross himself, he riveted his attention to the screen.  Because both voices were coming out of Lester Schuster. 

The new voice coming out of Lester was that of a more streetwise woman with a husky feminine voice.  More Kathleen Turner than Mia Farrow.  It was not the voice he’d heard Rebecca Schuster use when they interviewed her.  This new voice was angry.  And she was screaming at Lester.  But it was Lester!

 “You must have gone somewhere last night and done something bad.  Why else would you have kept me in the dark?  Tell me what you did! 

Back and forth the voices went. A man. A woman. Lester Schuster. Mary Ellen Schuster. And then suddenly Lester erupted and from the rouged red lips poured a confession.

“Ah, Mary you should have seen it. It was unbelievable. I had this idea to be a part of it. Not just stand back and watch it. It’s even better, you know, when you’re a part of the action.

“I was standing there watching the whole thing go down when I spotted the Captain. Mary, that fat bastard was floating in the Bay with ice cubes all around him. And something said to me, “Lester, pull him out.”

“I went with it Mary! And I pulled him out. He even thanked me! Imagine that”, he said and started laughing.

“You’re going to get caught doing stuff like that,” said the Kathleen Turner voice.

“You’re always trying to spoil my fun.” This time it was Lester. “Well you can’t spoil it today cause I got him. I got that bastard, Saul. I got him for you Mary. I got him good. “

“I remember the way he treated you and Rebecca. I got him for the names he used to call you, Becky the Freak, Becky, daddy’s little whore. I got him for the things he made you do, once he found out about your old man.”

“After they pull his cold stiff body from the Bay, you can go downstairs as Rebecca and pay your condolences to old Sylvia. And later, I’ll have a treat for you. I got film!”

Lester Schuster raised the glass of orange juice as if making a toast, and said, “Hey, why don’t we make it a double feature. I know seeing David Walker upset you, so why don’t we watch the film of me blowing up his wife. We can watch her burn!”

While Ray ran to get a cold wet towel to revive David, Mary Ellen Schuster left the apartment.

When he came to, his first words were, “where’s the tape?”

“It’s still in the machine.” answered a visibly shaken Ray.

David struggled to sit up. Ray could tell, the man he’d allowed access to his home was visibly shaken by the words coming out of that thing’s mouth. He crossed him again remembering what he had seen. Was it a man or was it a woman, or both. In all his years, he’d never seen anything like that before.

Ray helped David to his feet and back over to the table containing the spy equipment. He glanced at the television screen and saw that the apartment was empty. “Where did he – no she – damn it! Where did they go?”

“Out.”

“How long ago?”

“Maybe ten – fifteen minutes.”

David turned and headed for the door. He was reaching for his coat when Ray grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“I’m guessing from your reaction that this Kate, that they were talking about, she’s someone important to you?”

“Yes. She was my wife.”

“Then you need to do this right way.”

In those seconds, he realized that he’d been after revenge and not justice.

“Can I use your phone?”

We were just finishing up our lunch when the restaurant’s matra d brought the phone over to our table and sat it down in front of me.

“Who knows you’re here, at the hotel?” Frank asked rather surprised.

I lifted the receiver to my ear. As far as I knew no one knew I was in New York except LaTanya our receptionist.

“Hello?”

“Margaret. It’s David.”

“David! Where are you?”

“I’m in Park Slope at the home of Ray Jones. He lives downstairs from Sylvia Abramovitz and Rebecca Schuster.”

“What on earth are you doing there?”

“Following up on a lead.”

“I thought we all agreed that Rebecca was not the person we were looking for.”

“I know, but there was something about her. So, I followed up on a hunch and you won’t believe what I found. I’m on my way now. I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“That was David. He says he has something he wants me to see. He’s coming right over.”

Twenty minutes later, we were back in our hotel room, joined by David, watching a video of Rebecca Schuster’s apartment.

“What is she doing?” I asked.

“Changing”, David said.

“I know she’s changing clothes, but …”

“No. I mean she’s changing into different people. One of her is a man and the other, is a woman, possibly two women. One called Mary and the other Rebecca. It’s what she says later that I want you to hear.”

I watched and listened as Rebecca Schuster, or rather, Lester Schuster and Mary Ellen Schuster argued amongst themselves and confessed to the murder of Kate Walker.

“Oh my God, David,” I said, wrapping my arms around the gentle six-foot giant who sat weeping in a chair as he watched the last few minutes of the tape. “They have a film of her burning, he said.”

How did you know?

Like I said, I had a feeling I’d met her before. And it was weird because I knew without a doubt, that I’d never met Rebecca Schuster. She was and yet wasn’t the woman I’d met before. So, I put the Discreet Detective Agency to work following Rebecca. And after realizing that a woman similar to Rebecca had attended Kate and my wedding reception – oh, hell I mean party, I had my mother retrieve some of Kate’s things from the attic.

The letters were in a storage chest — a storage chest that for most of our marriage sat at the foot of our bed. I never thought to look in it. I guess that’s why she hid them there. She knew they’d be safe from prying eyes.

“Can I see some of the letters?”

“I gotta warn you, they’re not for the faint of heart.”

Dear Kate,

From the moment I laid eyes on you at the airport, I knew we belonged

Together.

Lester.

Dear Kate,

Are you trying to test my love? I know you can’t possibly go thru

with marry that black ape. Stop seeing him, immediately.

Lester

Dear Kate

I was in town the other day and I came by to see you. But you were with that nigger. One day, I’m going to kill that nigger for you.

Lester

The letters went on and on like that. I had to ask, “David, when did Kate meet Lester Schuster?”

My guess is right before we were married. I remember, she went home to meet with her parents. She wanted to talk with them about us, that is, about my being Black and all. She wanted to tell them in person – face to face. She flew home.”

“Once I realized that this guy has been hanging around airports for that long, I decided to go back and check film footage from Sam’s crash. Sure enough, he was at the Indiana crash site. Hanging around in the background the way he or she did at my wedding.

We debated on what to do with the tape. The tape of Rebecca’s apartment, constituted an illegal wiretap. That we knew. At best, we could take it to the FBI, and have them reconstruct David’s investigation, or we could give it to the NTSB, clear Frank’s name and have them reconstruct David’s investigation. We decided to clear Frank’s name.

Mary Ellen Schuster was sitting in for Rebecca Schuster as usual when the file access warning came up on her screen. She had programmed her personnel file to send her a warning whenever anyone retrieved it for review. The ID tag on the reviewer was National Transportation Safety Bureau. “Frank!”

Hurriedly she took her purse from her bottom desk drawer and forced herself to walk slowly down the hall on the pretense of having to use the lady’s room. She ran up the back stairs and made her way past the Sergeant on duty. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. She could hear Lester in the back of her head screaming, “They know, they know! Don’t go home! Use the escape plan.”

At six o’clock p.m. Rebecca Schuster’s supervisor reported her missing. Several squad cars were dispatched to her home address.

Ray Jones was at home when there was a faint tap at his front door. Opening the door, he was quickly and quietly ushered outside to a safe waiting area. Sylvia was the next to be escorted down. Afterward, several heavily armed men dressed in black with helmets on their heads rushed up the three flights to Rebecca Schuster’s apartment.

“Rebecca Shuster — NYPD open the door.” There was no response. Ray watched as two more men in black ran up the stairs carrying what looked like a big black log. It occurred to him that they were going to knock Rebecca’s door down.

Across the city in downtown Manhattan, Mary Ellen Schuster still posing as Rebecca withdrew a substantial amount of money – eight thousand dollars — from her account, before the Feds were able to shut it down.

She then took the number three train out to the Bronx to where Lester garaged his truck. Inside the locked truck, underneath the front seat was a change of clothing, a gun with ammunition, and another five thousand in cash. She drove out of the city before roadblocks were set up.

Three and a half months later Frank sat at his new desk in the Ashburn, Virginia regional office of the NTSB, more or less wishing that his vision of being fired had come true.

Being an office drown was not his forte. He missed field work. Truth be told, he even missed the stench of jet fuel and burnt flesh. But he would never have admitted that to anyone. That in itself would have been grounds for a psych review and he had another two months of probation, reviewing the reports of other on-site investigators before he could get back into the field, provided his name was not linked to any more crashes in a negative way.

To his surprise Agent Sanchez had backed him up during the FBI’s investigation of his involvement in the crashes of Flight 404 and 625.

The investigation had hit a snag when the FBI was unable to find any trace of Rebecca Schuster. Somehow, she had managed to slip through their nets.

As for her strange behavior on the tape, a well-known physiatrist after viewing the tape said it was most likely due to DID, Disassociate Identity Disorder. And that the DID had probably been brought on by the sexual abuse she suffered from her father and/or the continued harassment inflicted upon her after Donald Schuster refused to move out of the neighborhood.

Unfortunately, no one would ever know for sure because a search of Rebecca’s apartment had uncovered what had really become of her parents. Their bodies were found hacked to pieces, wrapped in plastic, and covered with lime in a freezer located in the kitchen pantry. They’d never left for Florida.

March, Spring, Resurrection. All things dead during the long winter were being resurrected, namely Saul Abramovitz.

He thought surely he’d gotten that bastard. But two weeks ago, he’d gone to the Gary, Indiana newsstand where they sold out of state newspapers and had purchased a copy of the New York Times.

The Times was doing an article on a local man who had survived the crash of Nations Air Flight 625. In the article Mr. Abramovitz had talked about how a lot of the passengers had blamed him for opening the plane’s door which had led to the drowning of several passengers. But the NTSB had absolved him of any wrong doing, stating that he did what any person in his position would have done.

The article went on to say that Mr. Abramovitz at the time, thought that the crash was quite possibly an act of revenge against him. And that a certain Rebecca Schuster, aka Mary Ellen Schuster, was wanted in connection with the crash.

However, Mr. Abramovitz was not going to let what happened aboard Nations Air Flight 625 keep him from taking a once in a life time trip to Israel to attend this year’s Passover Seder with his family. Mr. Abramovitz’s flight would depart from JFK International Airport on March twentieth.

Lester sat in his old beat up truck across from JFK airport and watched the grounds crew through binoculars. He was paying particular attention to their work habits, rotation schedule, uniforms, and IDs. He figured he could easily slip in during the evening work rotation, but not as part of the maintenance crew.

This time, his best course of action was to become part of the cleaning crew. That way, he would have access to the on-board computer. Once aboard the plane, he would program the computer to shutdown when three criteria were met: after the plane had traveled one hundred and eighty miles, reached an altitude of thirty-two thousand feet, and the autopilot was engaged. By that time, the plane would be well off the coast and high over the Atlantic. The location would make rescue difficult and detection of his handy work all but impossible. This time he wasn’t going to leave any room for that bastard Saul to escape.

From his observations, he knew International flights sat on the concourse for about an hour before departing. After he’d finished his ‘modifications’ on the plane, he’d have time to leave the airport and drive the forty miles to where he would set up his long-range cameras along the coast. If he couldn’t be there in person to see her go down, at least he could get a picture of her before she headed out to sea.

He had his tools, uniforms, and cameras stored in the same garage where he’d kept his truck. His movies were stored there also. During the past three months, he’d consoled himself by watching those ‘movies’. But now he’d have something new to watch, Trans Air Flight 200 departing JFK at eight o’clock p.m. on March twentieth.

It was time Lester Schuster thought to resurrect his goal of becoming master of death.

After reading the New York Times’ story on Saul Abramovitz, I had called the FBI and told them that they might as well have waived a red flag in the face of a bull. Rebecca Schuster was sure to take the story as a challenge. They assured me that they had the situation well in hand and that Mr. Abramovitz was in no danger.

Having gotten nowhere with them, I decided to drive up to Ashburn, Virginia an enlist Frank’s help.

As the elevator climbed towards Frank’s floor, I couldn’t help but recall our last time being together. That had been back in December and I hadn’t been ready for love again, so soon after Sam’s death. But now my pulse was racing in anticipation. Hopefully, he still felt the same way. The elevator bell rang, announcing my floor. The doors opened and my resolve faded. Should I get out? Would he see right through my excuse for being here? Was this the right thing to do? As I stood there weighing each course of actions, I realized that a young man was standing there politely holding the elevator doors open waiting for me to exit. I didn’t want to look stupid, so I stepped out.

Frank was sitting in his office with his back to the door his head was tracing the path of a plane across the sky.

“Is this your punishment?” I asked.

At the sound of my voice, his head stopped following the plane and he swiveled his office chair around in my direction. The broad smile that broke out across his face, at the sight of me, sent my emotions soaring.

“It was, until you walked in”, he said rising to his feet. His arms were around me in an instant. He smelled of tweed, soap, and Gray Flannel cologne. He released his hold on me after about a minute and happily began dusting off a spar chair so I could sit down.

“God, I’m glad you’re here”, he said.

“I don’t know whether you’ll continue feeling that way once you know the other reason I’m here.”

“There are two? What’s the first one?”

I could feel the blood rising to my checks thinking about the second reason. I handed him a folded copy of the New York Times with the article about Saul Abramovitz highlighted.

“I saw it”, he said. “Agent Sanchez and the FBI insist that Rebecca is no longer a threat. And that’s the official line.”

“Is that your official line, too?”

“No.” He leaned forward and looked directly into my eyes and said. “I think all those people on board that plane with Saul are in danger. That’s my unofficial line.”

“Are we going to just sit around and let Rebecca kill another two hundred or more people?”

“Well, I do have some vacation time coming. No reason I can’t take it starting now.”

At that point, he stood up, grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, extended me his arm, and we were out the door. As we stepped on the elevator, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “this time I won’t take no for an answer.”

David’s soul could not rest. Kate had loved him, he knew that from reading her diary, but she hadn’t been completely honest with him. She was being threatened, harassed, and stalked, and had kept it all to herself. Was she afraid to tell him? Was there something lacking in him? Did she think he was not man enough to handle the problem? Damn it! He pounded the desk with his balled up fist so hard that the ‘world’s best daddy cup, his ink pen set – a present from his mother –, and the silver framed picture of Kate took a little hop on top of the desk.

He paced the length of his office wearing thin its plush beige carpet. Damn, damn, he kept muttering to himself. Kate’s killer had been someone she knew, someone who had attended his wedding party, someone who had smiled in his face, shaken his hand and had wished him well, someone who had spied on him and Kate from afar. And that someone was still out there. How much did Lester, Mary Ellen, or whatever the hell she was calling herself, know about him and Kate? Should he be fearful for the rest of his family? Were Kaila and his mother in danger? Was he? Deep in his heart, he knew what he had to do in order to be safe and answer all these nagging questions.

He’d backed off and left the investigation to the Feds and they had botched it. Rebecca or Mary Ellen or Lester, had been very good at the job of evading capture.

Evidently, she had intercepted the FBI’s request for her files and had fled that very same day. A sigh of exasperation escaped his lips as he stomped back across the room and slumped back down into the big overstuffed chair that had formerly belonged to Sam Larson.

Mildred knocked on the door and interrupted his train of thought.

“Come in.”

“David, I just wanted to remind you that it’s Nelson’s birthday today and we’re about ready to cut the cake. Perhaps, you’d like to say a few words.”

“Nelson? Which one is Nelson?”

“Nelson is the young thin blonde haired boy. You know the one. She took a few steps closer to his desk and leaned in and whispered in an amused voice, “the one everybody says is so pretty he could pass for a girl.”

His eyes bore into Mildred’s wrinkled face. And in that moment, it struck him why the FBI had not been successful in locating Rebecca Schuster. They were looking for a woman, when they should have been looking for a man.

The pictures circulated by the FBI of Rebecca Schuster showed her as a tall, red hair woman with a stocky build, however, there were no pictures of Lester Schuster – a slim built man with short dark brown hair — being circulated, at all.

After a few seconds, he realized Mildred was still in the room waiting for his reply.

“Ah, yes, Mildred the party. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He took out a notepad and pencil before getting up from his desk and wrote, thinking like a man, where would I go and what would I do?

A man would not go home, or to friends, nor a women’s shelter.

A man would have had a hideout (some place familiar yet safe)

A man would need money, transportation, an anonymous sex.

He also wrote track these things and you’ll find Lester, before leaving with Mildred for Nelson’s party.

Maria Conchita Alonso Alverez took one subway train, two buses, and one and half hours to reach her third floor walk-up on Flatbush Avenue.

As she turned the key in the lock, she said a silent prayer to St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, that her four-year-old son, Juan, and her six-year-old daughter Christina were OK inside the apartment.

A five year veteran with Trans Air’s cleaning crew, Maria made eight dollars an hour with no benefits. She received one hundred and fifty dollars a month in food stamps to feed herself and her two children. The city of New York also granted her, as a single mother, a one hundred and twenty dollar housing allowance to assist in covering her seven hundred and fifty dollars a month rent. All of her other bills, electricity, gas, phone, toiletries, shoes and clothing for two growing children, transportation costs to and from work, and the remaining six hundred and thirty dollars of her rent, came out of her Trans Air salary.

And like so many others, who had made the journey from Mexico’s poverty to New York’s promise, she was expected to send money home. In order to cover all her expenses, she was often forced to leave her children home alone.

Today, her prayers were answered. Christina bounded across the room and greeted her mother with a broad smile and a big, “Hola MaMe.” Her little brother Juan waddled in from the bedroom dragging his teddy bear behind him after hearing that his mother was home.

Maria gathered her children in her arms and hugged and kissed each one, telling them how pleased she was to have such good little ninas.

Christina was the first to notice the bags Maria had hidden in the hallway. “What is in the bags, MaMe?”

“You will find out. Now help me carry everything into the kitchen.”

As she unpacked the heavily laden bags, the children oohed and aahed as each item sprung up from their depths. Maria, herself, wondered about the strange young woman who had given her such a wonderful gift.

Last week she had taken her usual seat in Trans Air’s employee cafeteria to eat her modest brown bag lunch when the young woman had sat down next to her. At first they exchanged the usual pleasantries and both ate their lunch in mutual silence. The next day, the young woman was back. This time, she introduced herself as Elise Rivera, a member of the airport’s terminal cleaning crew, cleaning bathrooms and pulling trash.

By Wednesday, the two were fast friends. On Thursday, Elise had confided to Maria a dream she’d held for a long time. “I have a dream of being like you, Maria, cleaning the big jets.” She went on to propose an almost unbelievable plan to Maria and she was willing to pay Maria for her part in it. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars for a chance at getting a spot on your cleaning crew. “Where did you get so much money?” “I have saved it. I know what I want to do and cleaning bathrooms all my life is not it. If I get on your crew, I might meet a pilot and marry him and not have to worry anymore about anything. I have a plan.” “Si,” Maria, said.

“All you have to do Maria is tell your supervisor that you need to return home to Mexico on urgent family business and that you have a friend who will fill in for you while you’re gone. And give my name, That’s all you have to do, Maria!”

“If anyone finds out, I’ll lose my job.”

“I understand, Maria.” Sadden by Maria’s refusal, Elise had hung her head and remained silent for the rest of their lunch hour.

All Maria could think about was how badly she needed the money and of her two young children who were at home alone.

Maria finished cooking and sat the plates heaped with hamburgers and store bought French fries drowned in catsup in front of each child. In the middle of the table she sat a bowl of fresh fruit. She went back to the kitchen and poured tall glasses of ice cold milk for each child. Finally she set a plate and glass for herself and sat down at the table with her children.

The children sat motionlessness in front of the steeped plates afraid to touch them. Only on special occasions did they have meat. Christina asked if they were having company. Maria explained it was all for them. “Eat up ninas.” Maria smiled at her good little ninas and started eating.

She had a plan, too. And it didn’t include returning to Trans Air. Elise Rivera, she suspected was up to something illegal – perhaps drug smuggling. But that didn’t matter to her. What mattered was her ninas.

Tomorrow she would pack for the trip back home to Mexico – with all that money she could return home and buy a house for herself, her children, and her mother. Never again would she have to worry about her ninas being alone.

Our plane landed pretty much on time and without incident. I must confess I was a little apprehensive about flying with Frank. After all Rebecca Schuster was still out there.

As I recall, we were at Baggage Claim when my mobile phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Margaret it’s David. LaTanya gave me the message that you’re in Virginia meeting with Frank.”

“I was, but now we’re in New York at JFK. Our plane arrived about ten minutes ago. We decided to try and convince Saul not to take this trip and if we can’t do that, we’re going to keep a look out for any signs that Rebecca might be up to her old tricks.”

“I’ve got a better idea and a probable reason why the FBI hasn’t been able to locate her. I believe Rebecca is living as a man, as Lester Schuster.”

“I guess that makes sense. She is very convincing as a man.”

“Yes, she is because she thinks she’s a man. And that’s what I’ve been working on – what and where would she go as a man. And I think I’ve got it solved.”

“Great, I’ll call you back when we get to the hotel.”

“Sounds like you and Frank are becoming quite an item.”

I watched as Frank pulled first my suitcase and then his from the luggage carousel.

“I think it has possibilities.”

“Just be careful.”

“I will. You can fax that information over to the Omni Star Hotel in Manhattan.” We both hung up.

“What was that about?

“David says he has a lead on Rebecca.”

“Good, I’d rather look for Rebecca any day than have another conversation with Saul. I’m sure he still blames our last talk for his behavior during the crash.”

“You were only trying to warn him.”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t see it that way.”

By now we had made our way through the terminal and were standing on the curve with our luggage.

“I’ll get us a taxi. By the way, where are we staying?”

“I made reservations for us at the Omni Star Hotel.”

The package of information was waiting for us when we arrived. According to David, Rebecca had emptied her checking account on the first day she went missing. So, he had started his search for Lester Schuster based on hotels within walking distance from a branch of the same bank that Rebecca used. The hotel or motel, we were looking for would also have storage units nearby where Lester could store a vehicle and one which tolerated prostitution. There were only two hotels close to the bank which Rebecca used that fit that within our search range.

Two agents from the Discreet Detective Agency staked out the Salem Hotel. Frank and I took the Eighty-eight Street Hotel.

The Eighty-eight Street Hotel was a scene right out of a detective novel. Calling this place seedy would have been a compliment. The walls were two different shades of green. Neither one especially appealing. The upper half a nauseating yellow green and the bottom half was a dark pea soup green. And both top and bottom walls were covered over with a greasy dirty film.

The scuffed brown floor tile with white speckling only enhanced its run down look. The blinds that covered the lobby’s windows had long ago turned a parchment tan and most of them were torn at the bottom with curled up edges. Others had collected a mélange of various stains. Pushed in the corners of the lobby were piles of dust and dirt, discarded coffee cups, used condoms and waded up tissues. A shriveled up old man with stringy gray hair sat behind a caged in counter.

When Frank and I approached the window his first words were, “we don’t rent by the hour.” I looked him straight in the eyes and replied, “Neither do I.” He looked me over from head to foot, and replied, “Oh, you’re the high priced spread.” Looking a Frank he added with a smirk on his face, “You’re into the kinky stuff.” I was about to set him straight when Frank stepped in between us.

“Listen mister, we didn’t come here to rent a room. We came for some information.” He scowled even more and scratched his scraggly old head as if trying to work up a credible answer in advance. A twenty-dollar bill relaxed the scowl on his face. Frank showed him a picture of Rebecca Schuster dressed as Lester Schuster.

He was here. Gone now I suppose”

“Do you know where he went?”

“Don’t know. What he do anyway?”

“He owes us some money.”

“How much money?”

“That’s between us and him.”

“You don’t look like the type to lend money”, he said looking directly at me.

“We just want our money back,” I said.

“Is there a reward?”

Frank slipped him another twenty.

“I haven’t seen him for awhile. But he has a girlfriend staying up there.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Some girl named, ah let’s see here, he said looking through his registry. Yes, Elise Rivera. I caught her trying to sneak in and out a couple of weeks ago. I put her straight. I said if two people gonna stay in a room I’m gonna charge for two people. I told her they were gonna pay for two people or get the hell out. I ain’t seen Lester since.”

“Any idea where she goes when she goes out?”

“The last time I was up there, I took a little peek. I saw a JFK employee ID tag.”

“When was that, asked Frank.”

“A couple of days ago.”

“Is she upstairs in the apartment, now?”

The old man shook his head, no, and his neck creaked from the effort.

“When do you expect her back?”

“Tonight sometime.”

Before leaving, Frank slipped the old man another twenty not to mention our visit.

Before leaving the Omni Star Hotel, I had the concierge pack up a goody basket filled with coffee, roast beef sandwiches, fried chicken, and some of the most devilishly delicious petit fours this side of the Atlantic.

I poured us both a cup of the coffee from the hotel’s thermos. The coffee had a rich nutty cinnamon flavor that eased us into conversation.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to join me in New York,” I said.

“No! Exactly what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought that we …… I hesitated before finishing the statement. I took a sip of my coffee and turned to look out the car’s window. A bag lady was walking past pushing her shopping cart, loaded down no doubt with everything she had in the world. It was about six degrees out and mostly likely, she was wearing the only that she possessed in the world. A gray fuzzy matted thing and she had topped it with a gray shawl someone had knitted a long long time ago and because of prosperity, had thrown away. She walked bent over, not from the ravages of age, but from a lack of love and support.

“I thought perhaps we could pick up from where we left off, last Christmas.”

“You mean me in a towel – he chuckled — and you saying no. I’d hoped we wouldn’t start there.”

“Things are different now.”

“How are things different now, he said turning his head to look at me.

“My husband’s ghost isn’t standing between us anymore.”

There was a momentary silence in the car while I held my breath. Was I wrong about his feelings? Had I waited too long?” I heard the leather of the car seat crunch as he shifted his body around in order to kiss me.

No way that creep was getting away with killing Kate. David parked his navy blue Ford Taurus in the parking lot of JFK airport. He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt, faded jeans, and a lightweight navy windbreaker. None of which was his usual style. He’d made a deliberate effort not to be noticed and this was as low profile as he got. A New York Mets cap completed his disguise. His thirty-eight was tucked neatly into a shoulder holster concealed beneath the windbreaker.

Carefully and stealthfully, he made his way to the International terminal. For a Sunday evening it was unusually crowded. About mid-way his journey, he had the uncanny feeling that he was being followed, but did his best to ignore the feeling. But with each step, the feeling nagged at him a little more. He told himself, that he was being paranoid and that Lester Schuster was after Saul and Frank not him.

But just in case, he thought it wise to do a little surveillance. The gift shop was up ahead. He’d use it as a way of determining whether or not someone was following him. He quickly ducked into the shop and went directly to a magazine rack.

He picked up a copy of the New Yorker and pretended he was reading, all the time keeping his eye on the front door. It was an old spy trick he’d picked up from watching movie noir films on TV.

As each person walked passed, he surveyed their faces for familiarity. After a few minutes, he reassured, himself that no one was following him. He bought the magazine and left.

He knew he’d reached the correct terminal when he saw all the television cameras. Saul and, his wife Rose, were in the middle of an interview. There must have been at least a half dozen or so reporters all jostling for a sound bite.

He forgot about the reporters and even Saul and surveyed the crowd for Rebecca Schuster or any of her alters.

He took a seat out of Saul and Sylvia’s view and continued surveying the room for either Rebecca, Mary Ellen, or Lester.

It occurred to him that she might have already done whatever damage she was going to do and that he might not get an opportunity to stop her.

As he was waiting, one of the gate attendants went over and said something to a cleaning lady who was emptying trash not too far from the Abramovitzs, while the other one started ushering Saul, Rose, their daughter, and Sylvia down the boarding ramp.

He watched some of the interaction between the gate attendant and the cleaning lady but reserved most of his attention for Saul.

Recognition. It started slowly like a Kodak Insta picture coming into focus. The hair was long, wavy and dark brown and she’d lost some weight, but it was definitely her

That fucking Saul Abramovitz was so scared, he looked as though he was about to piss in his pants. Man, he wanted to laugh. It was all he could do to contain himself.

“Saul, Saul, he thought, if you only you knew what awaited you, you’d have real reason to be scared.” I’m gonna get you this time.

I almost started to do you right here in front of everybody. I was so close to you, I could have reached out and touched you. I even heard what that ‘know it all’ wife of yours said, “Saul, will you just relax. The FBI told us there’s nothing to worry about. They said Rebecca is gone. She’s disappeared from this area. She’s probably gotten as far away from New York as she possibly can. Come on honey relax, please.”

I’m going kill her ass too — right along with yours. Then I’m going home, kick off my shoes, get myself a cold beer, and watch as they hunt for your dead asses in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

But Saul, I have to give you this. I love the way you beg! I heard that too! “Rose, I just don’t feel right about this, please let’s go home!” Beg her again for me p l e a s e – Saul – p l e a s e ! Beg! Yes, beg for your pathetic little nothing of a life. There won’t be any pretty little tug boats to pull your ass out of the water this time, old pal.

You’re going to know what Rebecca felt like when her father was raping her and she told you and you threatened to tell everyone if she didn’t do ‘sex things’ with you and your little friends. Everyone thought you bastards were being kind to the little German girl whose parents were stupid enough to settle in the midst of a bunch of Jews. But you bastards were anything but kind. You never listened as she begged you to leave her alone. I’d bet anything that before the day is over, you’ll beg you’re your life again.”

The gate attendant interrupted his thoughts. She was standing in front of him, black high heel company shoes shined and her uniform freshly cleaned for the reporters, telling him that ‘she’ was lingering too long in the area. He counted how many times her red rouged lips formed a perfect circle as she talked. She told him, that ‘she’ needed to finish her work in the area and move on.

“Damn shame about Maria, he thought, because this puta would have perfect!”

Frank and I had followed Elise Rivera all morning. We were watching her, when we spotted David in the airport terminal. We watched as he went into the gift shop, bought a magazine, and came out. We watched as he found a seat some rows from Saul and his family.

We were watching as Saul, his wife Rose, his daughter, and Sylvia all boarded Trans Air Flight 200 to Israel, while the rest of the family waived farewell. David’s attention was riveted on the little family.

Ours was on Elise Rivera as she went about her job of emptying trash cans. Frank’s body stance the whole time was tense as if he were waiting to spring into action. When the gate attendant closed and locked the boarding gate, he literally let out a sigh of relief. “She didn’t try anything,” I said. Too many people around, perhaps.”

Unfortunately, we’d both taken our eyes off David. That’s why we weren’t prepared for what happened next.

The boarding door was closed, the camera crews were packing up to leave, and Saul’s family was standing by the gate windows waiting for the plane to pull away from the boarding dock. Elise started loading her little cleaning cart, and suddenly David was on his feet screaming, REBECCA! REBECCA SCHUSTER!

“I guess he identified her from watching those tapes over and over.” “For whatever reason, he’d seen through her new disguise as Elise Rivera.

Next thing we knew, David was charging across the room brandishing a thirty-eight and demanding that Rebecca stop and put her hands in the air.

Everyone else around him had turned to stone transformed by the presence of a gun. Everyone except Elise Rivera. No. Elise ran for a door marked, ‘Employees Only.’ David went through after her. And Frank went after David, but not before telling me to get that plane stopped.

I was literally banging my fists on the gate attendant’s desk. “Call Security!” Get someone down here, now.” Little did I know, Security was already on the way.

I turned around and was facing Frank’s boss. “What are you doing here?, I asked.”

“I saw the two of you leave the office together. I figured you were up to something and I didn’t want to be the last to know. So, I followed you. Now which way?”

“Through the door marked, ‘Employees Only.’

Trans Air Flight 200 started rolling away from the gate unaware of the circumstances unfolding on the tarmac. Rebecca was running after the plane as if she were going to catch it. My heart stopped as I saw David aim the gun.

Part of me wanted him to shoot, for Sam’s sake, but a part of me knew that if he did, he would most likely be convicted of murder. I held my breath and prayed.

Frank lunged forward and caught David off-guard knocking him to the ground. The gun fired and Rebecca Schuster disappeared between the wheels of Trans Air Flight 200.

“I can’t call back a plane based solely on your suspicions!”

“Agent Sanchez, as an NTSB Agent, you know all too well that that type of cancellation can only come from the FAA.” Dirkson Lin, spokesman for Trans Air, practically spit his denial, to call back Trans Air Flight 200, in our faces.

“Do you have any idea how much it costs to return a plane to the gate, disembark a hundred or more people, search the plane, refuel the plane, and reload all of the passengers? Do you have any idea of the cost?”

“If, you, Agent Sanchez, or even Agent Roberts, had called our Security Office and had made them aware of your suspicions before Trans Air left the gate, then perhaps.”

“Well can you at least confirm Elise Rivera’s employment with your airline,” asked Agent Sanchez.

“My problem with that gentlemen, is that you can’t confirm for sure whether Elise Rivera is this Rebecca Schuster you’re looking for.

“Well, can you tell us the exact nature of the work Miss Rivera does?” asked Frank.

“Again, gentlemen, you can’t even confirm whether or not she did anything at all to that plane.”

“We have reason to think she did!” Frank’s boss was beginning to get hostile as the minutes went by and Flight 200 got closer and closer to departure.

“What I can tell you, is that we absolutely do not allow our cleaning staff anywhere near the inner workings of our planes.” He said while pointing his ballpoint pen at us to emphasis his point. “And it’s never been proven that Rebecca Schuster or Lester Schuster or whatever name this person is using, had anything to do with the downing of those other planes. I only point this out because, if I’m not mistaken, your name, Agent Roberts, is on two of those crash reports as certifying that Flight 404 crashed due to weather conditions and Nations Air, both pilot error and weather related conditions.”

“Those reports were done before we realized Miss Schuster’s involvement. And as we said before, Miss Schuster was a member of the New York Police, and would have had easy access to the airport through Security. We suspect she might have used her knowledge of security practices to gain access here, also.” Agent Sanchez was doing his best to convince Mr. Lin, but I could tell he was getting no where.

“Are you insinuating that our security is lack? As I’ve said before Agent Sanchez, Miss Rivera was personally vouched for by an employee who’s been with us for at least five years. Without a warrant, I can’t allow you access to her personnel file.”

“Can you at least tell us the name and address of the employee who vouched for Miss Rivera? Perhaps we can talk with him or her,” I asked.

At that suggestion Mr. Lin stood up came around the desk and opened the door to his office. It was clear he wanted us to leave.

As Agent Sanchez, Frank and I argued with Trans Air’s representative, Captain Zukerman was listening to his First Officer call off the runway checklist and had been unaware of the people who had danced between life and death beneath the wheels of his plane.

“Tower, this is Trans Air Flight 200, requesting departure on runway 22E.”

“Roger that Trans Air. Your flight heading is zero zero nine, your vector corridors are clear, wind speed two knots coming in from the east. You are clear for take-off Trans Air Flight 200.”

Captain Zukerman put his foot to the pedal as his First Officer called off their ground speed – 40 – 60 – 80 – 100 – set flaps at 2 – Roger – flaps set at 2 – 120 – 140. “We’re up!” The jet lifted its nose soared into the air as if it were any other creature born to fly.

We made it back to the concourse area just in time to witness Trans Air Flight 200’s lift off for Israel.

“Frank!”

“All we can do now, Margaret, is wait. And pray.”

We were walking down the main concourse of the airport when security found us. A body had been found on Runway 22E.

“Rebecca?” The name fell out of David’s mouth. He seemed almost hopeful as he asked.

“They don’t know who it is, answered one of the security guards. The body was too badly damaged for a positive ID. But, we’re assuming it is the woman, the two of you were chasing. Mr. Lin wants you back in his office!”

“It has to be Rebecca, I said. Who else could it be?”

We wasted no time in getting back to Mr. Lin’s office

“If it is her, David and I, are the only people here who have met Rebecca more than once, Frank told Mr. Lin. I think we would have a better chance of identifying her. If it is her?”

“You’re quite right,” Mr. Lin said.

“I think I’ll check in with the control tower, and make sure everything is OK with Flight 200,” said Agent Sanchez.

“Margaret, why don’t you wait here until we come back? If that’s alright with Mr. Lin, Frank said. I looked at Mr. Lin, who was looking rather sullen and I figured the man was going to have a lot of phone calls to make in the next few hours, and I would only be in his way.

“I’d rather go with Agent Sanchez to the control tower, if that’s permitted.”

“JFK Control Tower to Trans Air Flight 200. We have a situation on the ground. Please respond.”

“What kind of situation JFK?”

“After your take-off, a body was found on Runway 22E.

Captain Zukerman and his First Officer exchange puzzled glances. “Say again JFK. I don’t think we heard that correctly. It sounded as if you said, “a body was found on runway 22E.”

“Affirmative, Flight 200. A body was found on runway 22E after your take-off. We need to know if you’re experiencing any difficulties.”

“JFK are you saying that we ran over someone?”

“Negative Trans Air. We believe you might have had a possible stowaway.”

“Stand-by JFK.”

“Dennis, call Alexandria and have her do a passenger check.”

“JFK this is Captain Zukerman. We’re having one of the Flight Attendants check the passenger manifest to see if anyone is missing. It’ll take a few minutes. We’ll get back to you, JFK.”

“Captain Zukerman, my name is Agent Sanchez. I’m with the NTSB and I’m heading up the investigation of the body found. As part of that investigation, I’d like to be certain that the young woman’s body, did not impact the condition of the aircraft. Are you experiencing any difficulties handling the plane?

“WOW, the NTSB is already on the case?”

“Yes sir, Captain Zukerman. It’s not every day a body falls off a plane.”

“No. I guess you’re right. My copilot and I were in the middle of our in-flight checklist when you radioed in. We’ll finish that while we wait on Alexandria.”

“Dennis, you got that checklist. Let’s go over it again.”

Minutes weighed like hours as Agent Sanchez waited and watched the minute hands of each of the seven clocks which hung strategically over the controller’s consoles inch their way around each clock. There was a clock for New York, Mexico, London, Rome, Sidney, Cairo, and Belize.

“Agent Sanchez. All paying customers are accounted for and the plane checks out just fine.”

Agent Sanchez relinquished the radio back to the controller.

“Roger that Trans Air Flight 200. Continue your heading on zero zero nine east at twenty-six thousand feet.

“Trans Air we will now hand over control to Heathrow. It’s been nice serving you Trans Air Flight 200.”

“Roger, that JFK. Good luck with your situation.”

Captain Zukerman set his radio frequency to that of Heathrow’s, and leveled off at twenty-six feet, and engaged the autopilot for what he thought was going to be a smooth ride into Heathrow.

“That was weird. A body on the runway. Who the hell do you think we ran over?” Dennis asked.

“Probably one of the baggage handlers. Those guys always think we can see them in those dinky little trucks they drive.”

While they were talking, the two hundred mile marker sounded. Captain Zukerman buzzed Alexandria and asked if she would bring him a cup of coffee, cream – no sugar. Dennis ordered a diet Coke.

“Trans Air Flight 200 this is Heathrow. Welcome to International Waters. My name is Daniel and I’ll be your Flight Controller for the remainder of your flight.”

“Trans Air Flight 200 acknowledging transmission.”

“Trans Air maintain headings. You are on course for London’s Heathrow airport.”

“Roger that.”

The two men resumed their conversation at the point where it was interrupted by the Heathrow controller and settled in for the remaining ten hours.

About five hours in, Dennis took control of the plane, or watched the autopilot, while Captain Zukerman did his customary meet and greet to reassure the passengers that all was well.

His first stop was the First Class Section where he made sure he informed the passengers that they were about three quarters of the way to London and at the deepest point over the Atlantic Ocean.

As Captain Zukerman was talking with a bubbly sixty-year old woman from Iowa on her dream vacation to London, the Boeing 747 encountered a storm. Dennis flashed the Fasten Seat Signs and radioed Heathrow for instructions.

“Heathrow, this is Trans Air 200.”

“Acknowledged Trans Air.”

“Heathrow, we are experiencing some turbulence. Permission to climb to thirty thousand.”

“Acknowledge. Permission to climb to thirty thousand.”

Captain Zukerman entered the cabin and slide into the Captain’s chair and took control of the plane. “This reminds me of my days flying for FedEx. Come hell or high water the customer always had to get their package.”

Dennis surveyed the heavy dark gray storms clouds looming in front of the cockpit window. “It just scares me shitless. I can’t imagine what’s in those damn fluffy things that make so much noise and lightening when they bump into each other.” Captain Zukerman laughed in spite of the senselessness of the statement and reached for the radio.

“Heathrow, this is Trans Air Flight 200 requesting permission to climb to altitude thirty-two thousand.”

“What is your problem Trans Air?”

‘We are still experiencing turbulence at thirty thousand.”

“Trans Air what is your fuel reading.”

“We got enough, Heathrow.”

“Permission granted.”

Captain Zukerman eased the Boeing up through the gray clouds and driving rain, up to where the sun was shining brilliantly. Dennis let out and audible sigh of relief.

Captain Zukerman was so impressed by the beauty of the sky above the storm that he decided to actually fly the plane instead of putting her back on autopilot.

Alexandria rang from the stewardess cabin and asked if it were ok to serve the passengers alcoholic in hope of calming some frayed nerves. “Go ahead. I’ll put her back on auto and come back there and help convince them that we’re not crashing today.

When Captain Zukerman engaged the autopilot, the plane bucketed as if one of those gray clouds they’d escaped a few minutes ago had come up from below and smacked into the belly of the plane.

Forty-five seconds later Trans Air Flight 200 crashed into the deepest part of the Atlantic Ocean.

Mrs. Sofia Alverez met her grandchildren’s plane as it arrived at Aeropuerto de Mexico Benito Juarez in Mexico City all the while wondering why her daughter had decided, at the last minute, not to accompany the children on the flight home.

She had prepared for this day by washing and pressing the only decent dress she owned that was suitable for Mexico City. With it, she wore the faded yellow hat and shoes that she saved for Sunday Mass, and she carried a brightly colored hand woven basket filled with food for the journey home, a two hour bus ride into Mexico’s interior.

When she saw the children, she burst into a wide toothless grin and threw her arms around the bewildered little twosome as they stepped from the arrival gate. She had questions, so many questions, but they could wait. For now, she was going to enjoy having her grandchildren home.

After they had boarded the rickety old bus for home, Christina pulled and envelope from her backpack and handed it to her grandmother.

“MaMe said to give this to you, Tete.”

“What is it mehoe?”

“I don’t know. MaMe made me swear not to lose it and not to open it. She said it is very important that you have it.”

Sofia Alverez was puzzled by the large brown envelope that must have weighed at least two – maybe even three pounds.

The package reminded her of a drug envelope. With so much drugs smuggling going on in Mexico, she was tempted to throw it away. But who smuggles drugs into Mexico. No one, that’s who. The package had to contain another substance. Her sun browned hands gently caressed the package’s outer surface hoping to gain some insight as to its inner contents. As she caressed the package, two sets of brown eyes met hers and their hearts, she could tell, were heavy with fear. Where was Maria? And what did this package contain? And why was it so important?

“Christina, what else did your mother say when she gave you the package?”

“Not much, Tete. She was crying and she kept yelling, “Get on the plane, Get on the plane, now!”

“Where did your mother go?”

“She went with the man. The same man that came to the apartment and drove us to the airport in his truck.”

Juan, Maria’s son, who had been so quiet and still, leaned forward and patted his grandmother’s knee to get her attention. When she leaned her face close to his, he whispered, “Tete, he had a pistol.”

Her wrinkled eyes were immediately filled with concern. “Did you know this man, Christina?”

“No, Tete.”

Sofia comforted her grandchildren as the old bus jerked its way up the winding road to the little village of Merida that would be their new home. Neither child had ever lived in Mexico.

This was not like Maria to abandon the children. Something was wrong but Sofia did not want to worry the children anymore than she already had. She had to pretend, at least for now that everything was alright. In the morning, she would walk over to the little clinic and ask the doctor there to make the phone call to Maria in New York.

Slowly, she pealed open the brown envelope and stacks of green American dollars were inside.

Two weeks later, Dr. Henry Sorisosen, MD, PhD of Pathology called Mr. Lin and reported that the body found on runway 22E was not that of a forty year old woman of German descent, but rather that of a thirty something female of Hispanic descent, who had given birth to at least two children. And that she had not died of a fall from a plane nor had she been run over by a plane. She had been strangled.

Mr. Lin faxed over Maria Alvarez’s medical records. He decided to wait until he had confirmation that the body was that of Maria before he phoned the tiny clinic in Merida, Mexico.

But first, he needed to call Agents Sanchez and Roberts an inform them of Dr. Sorisosen’s findings.

The house slumbered a gray restless sleep of darkened hallways, leaky faucets, banging pipes, and appliances turning on and off.  Every sound Frank knew by hard.  It was the sound of the kitchen door closing that quicken his pulse.

Lester Schuster eased down the darkened hallway leading from the kitchen to the living room.  He’d let himself in through the garage where it connected to the kitchen.  Normally, it only took him a couple of minutes to get the door open but tonight he’d been a little more excited than usual and it had taken longer.  But he was in no hurry. 

He hadn’t bothered bringing a flashlight, he’d been in this house so many times he knew every inch of the way even in the dark. 

 As he looked around, he realized that Frank had changed nothing about the sad little house he’d fought so hard to keep.  He attended Frank’s day in court.  And Frank had been as blind to him as always.  It added an extra special thrill to the game knowing that he was going to kill Frank in his own home.

He knew without a shadow of doubt where Frank would be in the house.  The spare bedroom is where he usually slept.  That fool still couldn’t sleep in the master bedroom.  Too many bad memories.  Nothing like the sight of your wife screwing some another man, in your bed, to really mess up your head.    He almost felt a twinge of compassion for the poor bastard, because he too, knew what it felt like living with memories that haunted you.  “Well, after tonight old Frank won’t have to worry about that anymore.  After tonight, he’d sleep for a long, long time.

After a few minutes, in the hallway, he reached his goal.  He poised outside by the spare bedroom door and listened for any activity within.  Not that he expected any.  Frank didn’t have enough balls left to even bring that Black bitch home. She, was a sure bet. After all, she’d liked him enough to follow him around.  That should have been enough of a clue for even a dumb fuck like Frank.  If it were him, he would have jumped her bones during that first trip to New York, that is, if he had a liking for dark meat.

After a few minutes of listening, he was satisfied that there was no one else in the house.  He crept into the room, removed the forty-five he’d tucked into the back of his belt and aimed it at what he thought was Frank’s head and pulled the trigger.

POLICE! Put the gun down!  NOW!  Someone was shining a flashlight in his face.  PUT DOWN THE GUN!  NOW!  Cops were everywhere – screaming orders all at once.  PUT THE GUN DOWN!  There was nowhere to run.  He was surrounded.  Another policeman turned on the lights in the room.   HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!  GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES – ON YOUR KNEES!  He dropped the gun.  It made a hollow muffled sound on the carpet.  Strong arms were pulling him up and cuffing his hands behind his back.  Then one of those sons of bitches reached up and pulled his wig from his head.  Rage engulfed him.  He felt naked.  Betrayed by something he couldn’t control.  He struggled but there were two of them now, holding him firm.  He yelled, “put it back on, put my hair back on, you bastard.”

Detective Bradley Shaffer grabbed him by the jaw and put his face in Lester’s.

“You freak, let me show you what you shot.”  With that, he walked over to the bed and yanked back the blanket revealing a life size dummy.

“Thought you had him, didn’t you.  Well your killing days are over.”

“Frank, Margaret.  Get out here.”

We had hidden in the one room where, Frank said Rebecca would not look for us.  We’d hidden in the master bedroom.  I was glad she hadn’t peaked in, because if she had, she would have caught us engaged in some rather adult like behavior.  The gunshots had ended that.

By the time we exited the master bedroom, the Police had Rebecca surrounded and handcuffed.  She was struggling in vain to free herself.  Frank let go of my arm and walked over to Rebecca. 

“Why?”   Why kill all of those people to get even with us?”

“First of all, I’m not Rebecca, you idiot. My name is Lester.  Lester Schuster.  Get it right. And secondly, you’ve got it all backwards.  I was going to kill those other people anyway, because I knew I could.  You and your friends were the icing on the cake.

“Get him out of here, said Detective Bradley.”

“Sir, where do we put him,  ah-er  her?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a special place for that.  It’s called Hell!”

THE END

The house slumbered a gray restless sleep of darkened hallways, leaky faucets, banging pipes, and appliances turning on and off.  Every sound Frank knew by hard.  It was the sound of the kitchen door closing that quicken his pulse.

Lester Schuster eased down the darkened hallway leading from the kitchen to the living room.  He’d let himself in through the garage where it connected to the kitchen.  Normally, it only took him a couple of minutes to get the door open but tonight he’d been a little more excited than usual and it had taken longer.  But he was in no hurry. 

He hadn’t bothered bringing a flashlight, he’d been in this house so many times he knew every inch of the way even in the dark. 

 As he looked around, he realized that Frank had changed nothing about the sad little house he’d fought so hard to keep.  He attended Frank’s day in court.  And Frank had been as blind to him as always.  It added an extra special thrill to the game knowing that he was going to kill Frank in his own home.

He knew without a shadow of doubt where Frank would be in the house.  The spare bedroom is where he usually slept.  That fool still couldn’t sleep in the master bedroom.  Too many bad memories.  Nothing like the sight of your wife screwing some another man, in your bed, to really mess up your head.    He almost felt a twinge of compassion for the poor bastard, because he too, knew what it felt like living with memories that haunted you.  “Well, after tonight old Frank won’t have to worry about that anymore.  After tonight, he’d sleep for a long, long time.

After a few minutes, in the hallway, he reached his goal.  He poised outside by the spare bedroom door and listened for any activity within.  Not that he expected any.  Frank didn’t have enough balls left to even bring that Black bitch home. She, was a sure bet. After all, she’d liked him enough to follow him around.  That should have been enough of a clue for even a dumb fuck like Frank.  If it were him, he would have jumped her bones during that first trip to New York, that is, if he had a liking for dark meat.

After a few minutes of listening, he was satisfied that there was no one else in the house.  He crept into the room, removed the forty-five he’d tucked into the back of his belt and aimed it at what he thought was Frank’s head and pulled the trigger.

POLICE! Put the gun down!  NOW!  Someone was shining a flashlight in his face.  PUT DOWN THE GUN!  NOW!  Cops were everywhere – screaming orders all at once.  PUT THE GUN DOWN!  There was nowhere to run.  He was surrounded.  Another policeman turned on the lights in the room.   HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!  GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES – ON YOUR KNEES!  He dropped the gun.  It made a hollow muffled sound on the carpet.  Strong arms were pulling him up and cuffing his hands behind his back.  Then one of those sons of bitches reached up and pulled his wig from his head.  Rage engulfed him.  He felt naked.  Betrayed by something he couldn’t control.  He struggled but there were two of them now, holding him firm.  He yelled, “put it back on, put my hair back on, you bastard.”

Detective Bradley Shaffer grabbed him by the jaw and put his face in Lester’s.

“You freak, let me show you what you shot.”  With that, he walked over to the bed and yanked back the blanket revealing a life size dummy.

“Thought you had him, didn’t you.  Well your killing days are over.”

“Frank, Margaret.  Get out here.”

We had hidden in the one room where, Frank said Rebecca would not look for us.  We’d hidden in the master bedroom.  I was glad she hadn’t peaked in, because if she had, she would have caught us engaged in some rather adult like behavior.  The gunshots had ended that.

By the time we exited the master bedroom, the Police had Rebecca surrounded and handcuffed.  She was struggling in vain to free herself.  Frank let go of my arm and walked over to Rebecca. 

“Why?”   Why kill all of those people to get even with us?”

“First of all, I’m not Rebecca, you idiot. My name is Lester.  Lester Schuster.  Get it right. And secondly, you’ve got it all backwards.  I was going to kill those other people anyway, because I knew I could.  You and your friends were the icing on the cake.

“Get him out of here, said Detective Bradley.”

“Sir, where do we put him,  ah-er  her?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a special place for that.  It’s called Hell!”

THE END

Mrs. Sofia Alverez met her grandchildren’s plane as it arrived at Aeropuerto de Mexico Benito Juarez in Mexico City all the while wondering why her daughter had decided, at the last minute, not to accompany the children on the flight home.

She had prepared for this day by washing and pressing the only decent dress she owned that was suitable for Mexico City.  With it, she wore the faded yellow hat and shoes that she saved for Sunday Mass, and she carried a brightly colored hand woven basket filled with food for the journey home, a two hour bus ride into Mexico’s interior.

When she saw the children, she burst into a wide toothless grin and  threw her arms around the bewildered little twosome as they stepped from the arrival gate.  She had questions, so many questions, but they could wait.  For now, she was going to enjoy having her grandchildren home.

After they had boarded the rickety old bus for home, Christina pulled and envelope from her backpack and handed it to her grandmother. 

“MaMe said to give this to you, Tete.”

“What is it mehoe?”

“I don’t know.  MaMe made me swear not to lose it and not to open it.  She said it is very important that you have it.”

Sofia Alverez was puzzled by the large brown envelope that must have weighed at least two – maybe even three pounds.

The package reminded her of a drug envelope.  With so much drugs smuggling going on in Mexico, she was tempted to throw it away.  But who smuggles drugs into Mexico.  No one, that’s who.  The package had to contain another substance.  Her sun browned hands gently caressed the package’s outer surface hoping to gain some insight as to its inner contents.  As she caressed the package, two sets of brown eyes met hers and their hearts, she could tell, were heavy with fear.   Where was Maria?  And what did this package contain?  And why was it so important?

“Christina, what else did your mother say when she gave you the package?”

“Not much, Tete.  She was crying and she kept yelling, “Get on the plane, Get on the plane, now!”

“Where did your mother go?”

“She went with the man.  The same man that came to the apartment and drove us to the airport in his truck.”

Juan, Maria’s son, who had been so quiet and still, leaned forward and patted his grandmother’s knee to get her attention. When she leaned her face close to his, he whispered, “Tete, he had a pistol.”

Her wrinkled eyes were immediately filled with concern.  “Did you know this man, Christina?”

“No, Tete.”

Sofia comforted her grandchildren as the old bus jerked its way up the winding road to the little village of Merida that would be their new home.  Neither child had ever lived in Mexico. 

This was not like Maria to abandon the children.  Something was wrong but Sofia did not want to worry the children anymore than she already had.  She had to pretend, at least for now that everything was alright.  In the morning, she would walk over to the little clinic and ask the doctor there to make the phone call to Maria in New York.

Slowly, she pealed open the brown envelope and stacks of green American dollars were inside.

Two weeks later, Dr. Henry Sorisosen, MD, PhD of Pathology called Mr. Lin and reported that the body found on runway 22E was not that of a forty year old woman of German descent, but rather that of a thirty something female of Hispanic descent, who had given birth to at least two children.  And that she had not died of a fall from a plane nor had she been run over by a plane.  She had been strangled.

Mr. Lin faxed over Maria Alvarez’s medical records.  He decided to wait until he had confirmation that the body was that of Maria before he phoned the tiny clinic in Merida, Mexico. 

But first, he needed to call Agents Sanchez and Roberts an inform them of Dr. Sorisosen’s findings.