The Case of the Death Dealer
The Alexander Steele Investigations
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July 15th //Part One:
July 15th //Part Two:
July 22nd //Part Three:
July 29th//Part Four:
Conclusion:
The Death Dealer
Preview of Part Three
Glass Houses
Glass Houses
After the usual greetings Stan the tallest of the three men decided to get right to it. “So Steele, I see you’re back in the game, huh?”
Steele nodded, “Not by choice brother.”
The usual jovial Philosopher nodded at Stan, adjusted his glasses and gave Steele a serious look. “Well you know how it is, you called and here we are. I know you couldn’t say much on the phone so what’s the deal and how can we help?”
Steele ordered drinks for his friends and a Pepsi for himself. He explained the entire situation to the guys and waited for their response. While the Philosopher sipped his grey goose Steele slid the picture of Doctor D across the table.
When the Philosopher saw the photo he nearly spilled his drink. “Hey, I know that guy; we went to Morehouse together in Atlanta.”
Steele smiled, “I figured you would, that’s why I asked you to come. Dig up anything you can on him, no matter how small.”
The Philosopher shook his head, “That was ages ago and we really didn’t hang that much. Back then he was a pill freak, I see he’s graduated from more than just college.”
Stan briefly looked at the picture then tossed it on to the table as he spoke. “Yeah, he graduated alright, from popping pills to mass murder, what’s the world coming to? Steele, you want me to check this dude out?”
“Not him,” said Steele, “I want you to work your computer magic on the king pin Fat Daddy.” Steele gave Stan a small piece of paper with Fat Daddy’s real name on it.
Stan nodded, “I’m on it, by this time tomorrow I’ll be able to tell you what kind of toothpaste this guy uses.”
As Stan and Steele discussed his plan the Philosopher took out his pen and pulled out a small pad then began writing. He had heard about Sugar Bear’s lack of sympathy concerning the looming mass murder of hundreds. On his way out of the door he handed Sugar Bear the paper and simply walked out. It read, ‘Glass Houses - Life is like a finger print, each one is unique. Until you can duplicate my life's experiences, until you have felt my joy and pain, my victories, and failures you are not qualified to judge me, my decisions, or my lifestyle.’
Sugar Bear thought for a moment smiled then tucked the paper inside his shirt pocket. At the back of the club Stan noticed that something was not quite right with his friend. “Hey man, I know you’re supposed to be retired and all but it’s time to embrace who you really are.” Stan stood with outstretched arms as he looked around the club, “This is Alexander Steele’s playground he proclaimed, it’s a beautiful place,” he sat down across from his friend and continued, “but it’s not who your really are.” Stan opened his hand and put it on his chest, “Deep down inside you are a private detective, a damn good one, that’s what you were born to do.”
Stan spotted a familiar face near the front of the club and waived him over. Kenny was a tall dark haired man with a deep dark tan wearing an expensive beige suit. He made his way over with his beautiful girlfriend in tow.
Stan made the introductions; afterwards Kenny said “It’s a real pleasure to meet you Mr. Steele.”
After a bit of small talk the happy couple went over to the dance floor. Stan immediately turned to Steele and asked, “What do you think of Kenny?”
Steele was dumfounded by the question, “What do I think?” he repeated. “He’s not my type,” joked Steele. “Okay, I get it, you want me to read this guy. I see a happy couple out having a good time.”
“No,” Stan shook his head, “that’s what everyone else sees but what can you tell me about Kenny?”
Steele decided to humor his friend. “Okay, fine, let’s start with the easy part, judging from the white ring around his tanned finger it’s obvious that he has recently taken off his wedding ring and the fact that he has a deep tan and his girlfriend doesn’t probably means that he probably took the wife on vacation instead of the hot girlfriend.”
Stan was not easily impressed, “How do you know he didn’t get the tan from working outside in the sun? Maybe in construction?”
Steele burst out into laughter, “With those soft hands” he replied, “He’s more likely to be holding a doctor’s scalpel all day than a jack hammer and you don’t buy suits like that on a construction worker’s salary. That’s a custom made suit, it didn’t come off the rack.”
Stan had little choice than to concede that Steel’s observations were right. “So is that it Steele? Is that all you got?”
Steele laughed again, “Man, what do you expect? I only talked to the guy for five minutes. Okay, he’s not originally from Philly, if you listen closely you could hear a slight Boston accent, he’s left handed and Jewish, how’s that?”
Stan slapped his hand on the table in amazement, “Damn, how do you do it?”
