Chapter 25
If you happen to be a small business owner specializing in the food industry you might want to consider advertising to the Superiors of the world; why?
BECAUSE WE EAT A LOT?
Yep.
“That’ll be $247.14” the waitress said.
“Keep the change” George said after handing over three C-notes.
“Thank you very much, sir” she gushed because a fifty dollar tip is still worth something no matter what the cable companies say. Who in their right mind comes up with the prices the entertainment industry demands?
THE PUBLIC?
Oh… well okay, that’s actually a pretty good answer, But do they not know how blessed they are to be working in a field which values genetic beauty over intelligence?
PROBABLY NOT.
I once heard this actor go on about how long his days were and how strenuous the artistic process was… Really?
I GUESS IT COULD BE STRENUOUS.
… Strenuous?
SURE. YOU KNOW, MAYBE THEY’RE WORKING ON AN ACTION MOVIE OR SOMETHING.
… how about lugging around a wheelbarrow loaded with wet cement for a day you arrogant, self-righteous, modern-day court jester...
OKAY, GOING ON A RANT AGAIN.
… you lie for a living you over-inflated egomaniac! And quit telling us to give to your stinking charities! We know they need the money but we don’t have the money! You have it, Sherlock! So give some of it back! You sorry little...
WHOA!
Sorry, sorry, got a little off-track there.
YOU MIGHT NEED SOME THERAPY.
Blow it out your…
“So what did you learn, Nat?” asked George.
“Where did I leave off last time?”
“Bob and Steve met in prison.”
“Oh yeah, isn’t that weird? Two neighbors sitting in prison together for essentially white-collar crimes. Oh well, the world’s a strange place. So anyway, while they were there Commercial Property Management was teaming up with the State to build the Reformatory for Wayward Youth which had suddenly gotten access to even more land than was previously on the table.”
“Huh?”
“You took Steve’s land, George.”
“We did what?”
“You took Steve’s land. After he was found guilty of fraud Commercial Property Management was named executors of the property to see if you could get anything of value for its sale so you could reimburse your clients who had been the largest group of victims in his little pyramid scheme.”
“Hold on! I don’t remember selling any property around there?”
“Because you didn’t.”
“Huh?”
“You kept his property. It’s still listed as owned by Commercial Property Management.”
“But you said we were listed as executors to recoup our client’s money.”
“Yep, and according to the records of the Court you paid your clients and, surprisingly, all the other dupes of Steve’s Ponzi scheme, up front, with money of your own and took possession of the property for you to resell if ‘deemed necessary and profitable’ for you to recoup your losses.”
“And this is the property adjacent to Bob’s?”
“Yep, the other one with oil under it.”
“Crap!”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It looks like we knew there was oil under the land, Johnny.”
“Why?”
“Because otherwise we would’ve sold it.”
“Huh?”
“If we were given the land as executors to repay our clients we would’ve done so unless, for some reason or another, we found out the land was more valuable than what the investors were owed; then we would have done exactly as it appears we did which was settle with them and keep the land.”
“Is that even ethical?” I asked.
“Were not in the Ethical business, Johnny, we’re in the Shelter business.”
“Oh.”
“What else did you find out, Nat.”
“You also took Bob’s mom’s land, George.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured we did since we’ve got a prison and oil-rigs on the spot; how did we do it?”
“You were awarded it by the Court.”
“The same Court which awarded us Steve’s land?”
“Nope, a different Court. This Court found Bob guilty of arson and murder and awarded Commercial Property Management Incorporated the deed to the land to recoup its loss of the Reformatory it so graciously built for free.”
“Murder?” George asked.
“Yep, Bob’s mom was in the Reformatory when it went up.”
“Holy cow!” I said.
“Yes, Holy cow, Johnny. She had moved in to one of the rooms next to the nurse’s office. It seems she was having more and more difficulty getting around in her home and felt more comfortable living near someone with medical knowledge. It worked out well for Bob because when he got out of prison for his illegal hotel network he got to live in his mom’s old home all by himself.”
“Where were the kids?” I asked.
“What kids?” Nat asked.
“The Wayward Youth?”
“On a field trip to Big Bend National Park.”
“All of them?”
“Yep. Every one of them including teachers, counselors and just about everyone else associated with the place.”
“The nurse too?”
“Yep.”
“How could they afford that?” I asked.
“They had a generous sponsor.”
“Oh, no” said Trudy.
“Yep, Commercial Property Management again, Mistress.”
“So… okay, so what happened?”
“Well, it turns out Bob was seen leaving the crime scene by an anonymous witness who called the police when she heard the place had been lit on fire. It turns out it was a good thing because the detective on the case was prepared to let Bob go since he had a pretty darn good alibi.”
“What was that” the beauty with flame-colored hair asked.
“He said he remembered watching the live late-night news and told the detective what the entire program was about. Since the detective knew the fire started in the middle of the show and Bob was so vivid in his recollection he was going to rule Bob out. The detective didn’t believe it was possible for Bob to have taped the end of the show, ran back home and watched it after he started the fire.”
“Why not?” asked Phillip.
“Because the first fire engine reported when they got on the scene they were met by Bob and they arrived only minutes after the news program ended.”
“And Bob’s mom’s house was too far away?” I asked.
“Yep, on the other side of the ranch, a good ten-minute drive over rough terrain by daylight, let alone at night.”
“And the Reformatory didn’t have a television inside.”
“Sure, they had lots but they only subscribed to basic service and it didn’t carry the news channel he was watching.”
“What basic service doesn’t cover all the news channels? Heck, as far as I can see it’s about all they…”
“It was a sports-news channel, Johnny.”
“Oh. Never mind.”
“So Bob didn’t do it?” said Phillip
“Well, that’s the way it was looking until the detective got the phone call.”
“What did the caller say?”
“That she saw Bob near the entrance to the front gates of the Reformatory a mere minutes before it was reported to have caught fire. She remembered because he’d been wearing one of those ten-gallon hats cowboys wear and she thought it looked odd since she couldn’t recall seeing him wear one before.”
“But she didn’t report her name?”
“Nope, but they found a ten-gallon hat in Bob’s truck.”
“So Bob did do it?” asked Phillip.
“It looked that way to the court of law when they locked him up and t
hrew away the key.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“Well, I can’t get over what the detective thought about it being impossible for Bob to have committed the act if he could remember the nightly news so vividly. The time-line doesn’t add up and, well, there’s one other little detail I find interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“There was an outside video-camera recording the whole thing.”
“Really?”
“Yep, it showed the perpetrator in a ten-gallon hat pouring liquid on the place and striking a match to ignite the inferno.”
“So they had video proof of the arsonist?” I said.
“Well, not exactly” he responded.
“What do you mean?” asked Vivian.
“Well, Mistress, when the perpetrator lit the match to do the deed a funny thing occurred with the image.”
“What, it got blurry?”
“Nope, it showed everything crystal clear. The poncho covering the figure, the hat on the figure’s head, the gloves on the figures hands, in fact, it had virtually every detail one could wish for except…”
“Except what, Nat?” I blurted.
“Except when the match was lit and a face was shown only a shadow appeared.”
All Texans believe in the sanctity of innocence until proven otherwise. Unfortunately that sanctity doesn’t extend to those who were previously found wanting in their actions. If you are convicted of any crime you are automatically declared guilty to commit another. It doesn’t matter if you drove drunk and are now on trial for rape, the fact you were guilty of one will undoubtedly lead to your conviction in the other. It’s even worse for the offenders in the black community. Why?
I DON’T KNOW?
Because we, like every other species on the Earth, don’t like to admit when we’re wrong. We were wrong about slavery and went about denying it for centuries. We set up programs benefitting our black brothers and sisters with the hopes of assuaging some guilt but we never actually paid any penalty for the crime committed. Should we pay some sort of past-wages due?
YES.
No.
I MEANT, NO.
The people our ancestors wronged can never be compensated for denying them the very thing which sets this country apart from others; that an individual has inherent rights. The people of today cannot be tried for the sins committed by their forefathers but we could stop imprisoning their children at the idiotic rate of one in four if they happen to be male. Why are we putting young men behind bars and then deleting them from society?
BECAUSE THEY BROKE THE LAW.
We all break the law, Sophocles, we break it hundreds of times every day; whether it be jaywalking or speeding or, if you go with the conservative point of view, surfing the internet for a hand-held companion…
REALLY? THAT’S ILLEGAL?
… because, make no mistake, once you’ve sent a man to prison you’ve effectively cut off any chance he has of providing for his family. There’s absolutely no justification for this. Is it because they once sold a weed to a bunch of teenagers?
SELLING A WEED IS A CRIME?
As far as I can tell the past three Presidents admitted smoking the stupid plant. Why not disallow them the right to govern?
OH, OKAY, I’M CAUGHT UP NOW.
Why are they ruining people’s lives because they’ve been selling a product their own leaders readily admitted purchasing?
BECAUSE THEY’RE CRUEL.
And hypocrites.
“It’s time to go” said Vivian and we all got up.
“I’m not feeling very confidant” Phillip said.
“Why?” George replied.
“Because we look like a bunch of heartless oil-exploiters who can’t guard our own house.”
“Oh” George said and no one thought to add anything else because, really; what else was there to add?
“Are you coming with us, Nat?” asked Phillip.
“Nah, I think I’m going to sit and eat a pie.”
“Okay, but could you do me a favor when you get the chance?” asked Trudy.
“Yes, Mistress, of course; if it’s within my power to do so” he answered.
“Would you check on this, please?” she asked while handing him a slip of paper.
He glanced down at the note, nodded his head to indicate to the lovely Vampire he would indeed be able to do whatever it asked, she smiled back and followed the other three Superiors as they went out to get in the pickup truck.
“Nat?”
“Yes, Johnny?”
“Do you think they have a chance to win?”
“Oh, yes, Johnny, I do”
“What are their odds?”
“Odds for what?”
“What are the odds they’re going to win?’
“Oh, I would never bet against them.”
“But what are their odds, Nat?”
“It depends, Johnny.”
“On what?”
“On you.”