Home » A Wasted Life » The Equalizer – Chapter Nine

The Equalizer – Chapter Nine

The next morning, I decided to make one more call to Harville.  Knowing he wouldn’t answer, I put the phone down, threw my feet up on the desk and started drinking my coffee.  I almost spit my coffee all over my pant legs when he actually answered the phone.

I had gone over and over in my mind exactly what I was going to say if and when he ever answered but suddenly, my mind went completely blank.  It seemed like an hour before I finally blurted out the words “the equalizer.”

Harville said “I’ll book you on the next flight to Chicago.  Somebody will be waiting to pick you up.  Plan on spending a few days.”  Then I heard the “click.”  I have seen movies where the players hear that click and continue to say “hello?  Hello?  Hello?”  I never understood that.  I would yell “you stupid idiot!  Why are you still saying hello?  They hung up!”

Call me a stupid idiot.  I found myself saying “hello?  Hello?”

Oh boy.  Obviously Harville thought that I had “figured it out,” but I didn’t have a clue what was going on.  I would have to fake it.  Maybe I’d pull the ole “what do you think?” hoping he would think I knew what the hell I was talking about and start telling me what I didn’t know.  I knew I was going to be intimidated by his “status” but I was determined to act like I wasn’t.

I got to the airport just in time, given the short notice.  It was a relatively short flight and when I walked through the terminal, I saw a well dressed chauffeur, holding a sign bearing my name.

When we got outside, he opened the door to a stretch limousine.  Of course. What was I expecting?  A ticket for a ride on the city bus?  When I got in, that song “How Do You Like Me Now?” popped into my head.  Yep. I wasn’t on the “list” but I was being chauffeured around in a limousine.  That was class.

I had to snap back into reality because I was about to face Harville and like I said, I knew nothing.  I figured the worst that could happen is that he would toss me out and I would be relegated to fetching a cab back to the airport.

The limousine pulled up to what could only be described as a mansion with a well-groomed lawn, luscious landscaping and a fountain that was as big as my living room.  Okay.  I was duly impressed.

I rang the doorbell and I kid you not.  The classic British butler answered.  I told him who I was and he said “of course.  My name is Mr. Winslow.  Mr. Harville is expecting you.  Please follow me into the library.”

I looked around the room and felt like I had landed in the middle of a storybook castle.  “Please make yourself comfortable,” Mr Winslow said. “Might I bring you a cup of tea?”  I thanked him but declined.  “Oh, yes,” he said.  “I forgot.  You Yanks prefer coffee.  Might I bring you a cup of coffee then?”

I politely declined once again and he said “very well.  Mr. Harville will be with you shortly.”  I spent a few minutes, fantasizing about what his life must be like.  Butlers, maids, chauffeurs, limousines and it was a given that he had his own chef.  I decided that I hated him.

Don’t misunderstand.  I lived comfortably.  I had a nice home, drove a nice car and had money in the bank but I had started at the bottom and clawed my way to the top.  But being there, it seemed like my top was almost like his rock bottom.  Yep.  I hated him.

He finally came into the room and at that very instant, I realized that I had forgotten to bring the autopsy report.  I was hosed.  He shook my hand and told me to sit.  He got comfortable in his overstuffed leather chair behind his, what I was sure was a hand crafted desk.

As he glared at me, I sheepishly admitted that I had forgotten the report.

“I don’t give a shit about that report,” he said.  “You think I needed to see that report?”  I shrugged and asked why he had requested that I get it and send it to him.  “YOU’re the one who needed to see that report,” he scowled. I was at a loss.  I didn’t have a clue what to do or say next.  He obviously thought I knew what the hell he was talking about.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a rather thick folder.  He plopped it down on his desk and said “look through this.”

“What is it?” I asked.  He acted a little perturbed and said “I don’t like to give instructions twice and I don’t like to repeat myself.  Understand?”  I nodded, I think.

“Now, ” he said.  “Before you do that, let’s talk about Parker.”

 

 

To be continued________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

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