Dishonour, Chapter 5

“ We all have our stories Phillip. Some are sadder than others. But rest assured that everyone here tonight has their own story to tell. Did you want to hear mine?”

He looked at the big man and could tell by his hard swallowing between sentences that it might be a painful one to tell. Still, his curiosity aroused, he asked Brad to continue.

“ I was always a big boy growing up. School was hard for me. My size invited challenges from the other boys wanting to prove how tough they were. Well, fighting became second nature to me and led to more than the occasional trip to the principals’ office. And though the vast majority of fights were not of my making, they deemed me to be a trouble maker. A problem student.

As my hatred for school progressed, my grades sank. They assigned me a mentor to help with my schoolwork and turn my attitude around. All of eleven years old and branded a nuisance. My mentor seemed nice enough at first. We worked hard at the books, and then he would reward me with a trip to the store for a chocolate bar and a coke. We would talk for hours. Me telling him my darkest secrets, my fears, and my desires. He was the perfect listener.

Up till then, I had no idea what a predator was, but, I soon found out Phillip. You see, as my trust in him grew, his friendly gestures turned to touches. Small at first, but always growing.”

Phillip could feel the blood in his temples pulsing, trying to take in what Brad was telling him. Brad’s complexion had also changed along with his demeanor. In his voice, the further the story progressed, the more pronounced the seething rage inside the big man surfaced.

“ Well Phillip, you have probably guessed by now. I was sexually abused by this man. I was confused and angry. And now, instead of simply defending myself, I would seek out confrontation anywhere I could find it. That’s how I dealt with it. Admitting my abuse was out of the question. For an eleven year old boy, admitting that another guy had touched you that way, well, the other kids would call me queer and stuff. And so I kept it to myself and raged against anyone and anything. They finally removed me from that school and placed me in another. And I was placed in a special class, with other special kids. It was horrible.

This whole thing carried on with me my whole life. It’s an awful lot of baggage for a kid, but I survived, and never forgot. It never left me. School was terrible for me. I could not make friends. Hell, I didn’t want to make friends. I didn’t want to trust anyone ever again. As the years went by, and my grades kept slipping, I discovered alcohol and dope. And by the age of sixteen I would consume anything with wild abandon. My parents were beside themselves and the family urged therapy for me. I, of course, didn’t want to know anything about it. All I cared about was beer and dope and anything that interfered with my getting high pissed me off. They suggested a trade. My Dad suggested the army. My choice though was to deal dope and get an apartment. And I did. I just kept sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of despair and depravity. I met a girl. Phillip, I’ll tell you, I fell head over heels in love at first sight. I stopped dope and returned to trade school. Love can do that for you.”

For the first time since Brad had started to tell his story, Phillip saw a small smile light up his face. And for a second, Brad was lost in some delicious memory of those days of innocence. And then, as quickly as the smile had appeared, it drained from the big mans face.

“ We talked about everything in those days. Then, one night, I told her about my abuse. We cried together and she held me close like a baby; rocking me, saying over and over again it would be all right. We found a therapist and I started therapy with gusto. I had to drop all this baggage that had dragged me down all these years. And through it all, I finally learned to love myself again and believe that it was not my fault. I had been the victim of a criminal act. I learned to be happy and at peace with myself again. And I married that girl! We now have three kids.”

Phillips head was swimming with unasked questions and thoughts of why the hell is this guy telling me all of this? He reached into his shirt pocket and drew another cigarette. As he went to take a sip from his scotch, he realized that his glass was empty and after all that he had just heard, the numbing effects from just one glass simply wouldn’t do.

“ Brad, may I fetch you another Scotch?”

Brad gave broad grin and said, “ Just a sec Phillip.”

He opened the screen door, and asked Melinda, “You think we could get that bottle of scotch out here?”

His request was filled within a minute.

“ Here you go boys. Sorry, I have some stuff in the oven. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

Brad gave Melinda a quick peck on the cheek and thanked her with a grin and poured both of them a hefty dram of the heady elixir. Brad looked at Phillip as he gulped the Scotch.

“ Better now?”

Phillip simply nodded yes as he puffed on his cigarette.

“ Good. Now where was I? Oh yes. Well, it seemed my life was going well. I was happy; gainfully employed; the father of three kids with soccer and hockey and nights at the table helping with schoolwork. I had a beautiful wife and a lovely home. One evening I came home and was casually leafing through the newspaper when I came upon a story on the third page. It was about a young man that had committed suicide the day before. A child really, only sixteen years old. I continued reading the story. And as I read, I started to tremble, uncontrollably. My wife walked into the living room and saw me. She rushed over to ask what was wrong. I’ll tell you Phillip, I couldn’t talk! I simply held up the paper to her as my tears splashed on the pages. I couldn’t control it. It was the most horrible moment of my life! As my wife read the story, she saw the name. This young man had had a mentor!”

Phillip watched as the big mans body wracked with a tremour and a tear rolled down his cheek. Brad turned away from Phillip and quickly wiped the tear away and sniffed hard.

“ The thing is Phillip, the cops were already onto this guy and building a case against him. They had hoped that this kid would testify and finally give them the proof to put him away for a very long time. However, because he committed suicide before he could testify, and because of the Doctor/patient confidentially law, they couldn’t get the Therapist to testify. You see Phillip, we also have friends that are absent here tonight, but also have a story to tell. And those friends are in the force. I was contacted a few days later, and asked if I wanted to testify, but if not, then other arrangements could be made. After my tears, the rage set in. That’s when I realized the great opportunity that had been presented me. Now don’t get me wrong Phillip. I was never a great believer in revenge. I was never a believer in working outside the law, apart from my dope days.”

Brad gave out a hearty laugh at the last remark. And Phillip realizing the comical intent, laughed as well. The pressure seemed to leave as Phillip sipped from his glass.

” Well truth be known Phillip, and without getting into the gory details, I am the one that killed that rotten son of a bitch! I did it and I am not sorry one little bit for having done it!”

Brad turned squarely into Phillips face with his last remark as though to gauge his reaction. Phillip could not remove his eyes from the big mans face. No words would be right. He had no idea what to do or say to such a confession.

As the wetness hung about them on this warm summers night; the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip, Phillip simply turned to look down into his swirling glass. Then the big man spoke.

“ Phillip, I don’t need to know whether you agree with what I did, I simply want you to understand why I did it. As I told you earlier, we all have our stories. Mine is just one. Please try not to judge too harshly. You’re amongst friends tonight. I have to return to the guests now so I’ll see you in a bit.”

And with that, Brad was gone back inside in the wink of an eye.

Phillip felt dizzy. Maybe it was best to call it an evening and get the hell out of there!

As he butted out his cigarette and prepared his excuse for leaving, the screen door opened.

“ Hello Phillip!”

Dishonour, Chapter 4

“ Hello Phillip, this is Melinda. Are you feeling any better now?”

Phillip was in no mood for mind games.

“ Yes, I am ok. I’m sorry, but is there something I can do for you?” Phillip waited for her response.

She seemed to be searching for the right words.

“ I was wondering. Are you free this evening? You see, I thought you might stop by my house for a drink. I am sure you will find it easily enough.”

Phillip pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it incredulously as though it might respond to his regard.

“ Miss Beecham; Melinda; I don’t think that would be such a good idea. As you are aware, my wife died recently, and well, I am really not ready to be entertaining any sort of relationship with anyone just at the moment.”

Melinda recoiled at the last remark.

“ Phillip. I don’t think you really understand what I was saying. I am not asking you out for a date. I am having some friends over for drinks tonight. They are anxious to meet you. And, they may have some answers to questions that have surely been on your mind. But, by all means, if you feel that you are not up to it, then perhaps we can do this another time.”

Phillip felt his face go red and he quickly responded.

“ Oh, I am sorry Melinda, I didn’t understand. Forgive me. But may I ask, who are these people?”

“ Friends. People you can trust. People who know exactly what it is you are feeling right now. I really can’t say much right now Phillip. I am sorry to be sounding secretive, but you will understand when you get here. Will you come?”

Phillip thought that all of this was getting to be a bit much. Melinda knew his name; the deed he had done; she was having a secret meeting with secret friends; she was offering up scraps of information which lead to more questions; and being downright sickly sweet and compassionate through it all. Making his decision on where and how to kill her even more complicated. Getting her home address might prove rather useful though, and so he agreed to meet.

After Melinda gave him the address and time, she paused just long enough for Phillip to ask her what was wrong.

“ Well, may I ask Phillip? Would you please shave and dress accordingly? These are my closest and dearest friends, and well...”

Phillip assured her he would do his best to make himself presentable, and hung up.


The summer sun was sinking quickly into the western horizon; casting long shadows over the sprawling front lawn as Phillip put the car in park. The repressive heat of the day gave way to warm evening breezes that caught the scents of the flowers growing in profusion and carried them in waves of gentle smells. It was obvious that Melinda took great care of her home and garden.

A gnarled crab apple tree, heavily laden with summers’ bounty was off in a corner. The manicured lawn, lush and thick, swept gracefully up to the front porch. Its railings were snow white and set against the forest green color of her home. Atop the railings, planters, overflowing with rich red Begonias were placed every two feet. On either side of the large wooden front door were brass pots. Shoots of wild grasses and tiny flowers in purples and gold swayed in the gentle winds.

As Phillip climbed the front steps, he heard the sounds of soft music and laughter coming from inside the house. The clinking of glasses and the smell of warm pastry seemed to be hanging in the air. He grabbed out to the big knocker in the form of a lions head and was about to knock when the door suddenly swung open.

“ Phillip! I am so glad that you could make it! Please, come in.”

Melinda looked lovely. Her dark hair framing a pair of soft brown, and sparkling eyes. Her tanned complexion bore witness to the work she had done in making her front lawn summer perfection. She gently took Phillips hand, in a soft handshake, and without letting go, pulled him into the foyer. A large mirror to the right was far too harsh a reality that Phillip gazed upon in brief disgust; the damage of these past days had left their toll on his features.

The conversation; so bright and lively; came to an abrupt halt, as all heads turned towards the front door.

“ Everyone, I want you to meet Phillip Preston.”

Smiles beaming, and glasses raised, they seemed to all say in unity; welcome Phillip. He felt awkward. He felt like turning and running out the door. Melinda, sensed this awkward moment, and offered him a drink.

“ What can I get you Phillip? I have some terrific wines. But I also have a bottle of really great single malt Scotch whiskey if you prefer.”

Phillip agreed to the whiskey and Melinda, smiling and never letting go of Phillip’s hand, gently led him to the bar. The conversation continued as Phillip turned his back on the guests; all the while sensing their eyes upon him. This had been a mistake, but he was here now and couldn’t leave. He felt trapped and totally friendless. What had he been thinking when he accepted this invite from Melinda?

“ Hi Phillip. Brad Stryker.”

Phillip turned into the face of a man with a large smile and friendly demeanor. One large hand thrust forward. As Phillip took his hand, he noticed the grip. Strong and sure. Brad was a big man. Broad shoulders and barrel chested; he reminded Phillip of a wrestler from years gone by.

“ May I join you in the Scotch? Wine is ok, but whiskey is better!”

Phillip was glad someone was talking to him. So, he agreed.

Melinda smiled as she poured Brad his drink.

“ I have to check on some things in the oven. Brad, will you please take care of our guest till I return?”

Brad raised his glass of Scotch in the air and saluted Melinda as she slid from behind the bar.

“ Tell me Phillip, are you a smoker by any chance?”

Phillip was dying for a cigarette, and was relieved that he had met another person that shared this addiction.

“ Yes, I smoke.”

Brad gave a toothy grin.

“ Then I have just the place for you! Follow me.”

Phillip followed the big man as he wandered through the kitchen, stating, “Melinda was the greatest hostess and cook anywhere to be found.” Melinda, bent over near the oven, having heard this, blushed.

The two men continued out the side door in to a shaded back yard. Thick with trees and a pond, the croaking of frogs and birds singing made it a haven from the day to day stress. As much care as Melinda had put into her front garden, an even greater priority had been placed here. It was lush and damp. A cool wetness hung in the air and the myriad of fragrances from countless species of plants mingled with the smells of mosses and forest foliage.

As Brad reached down to pick up an ashtray that had been placed by the door, Phillip pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Brad.

“ Oh, no thanks Phillip. I don’t smoke. I thought we might just talk a bit. You see, we are all here tonight for you.”

Phillip drew hard on the cigarette and said as his mind focused, ” What do you mean?”

Brad’s face grew serious as he searched for the words.

” We all have something in common Phillip. In spite of our different lifestyles and personalities, there is one common thread with everyone here tonight.”

Phillip stared at Brad, waiting for him to continue. Brad took a large sip from his Scotch, and turned his gaze back on Phillip.

“ On second thought, I haven’t smoked in years, but maybe a cigarette would be good just now. Do you mind?”

Phillip hastily fumbled for his cigarettes and Brad took one. Lighting it up, he took a long haul and gently let the smoke drift out into the evening skies.

“ I haven’t smoked since the night that I killed that son of a bitch.”

Brad drew another long puff from the cigarette as Phillip stood wide eyed at his last comment.

“ Killed? Who?”

Dishonour, Chapter 3

After fumbling with the aspirin bottle for a few moments, Phillip used his teeth to bite off the top. Cursing, he grabbed 4 aspirins from the spilled contents on the coffee table and took a long drink from the half emptied water bottle, now at room temperature. Kicking off his shoes and removing the revolver from his belt, he laid back on the sofa. He watched intensely at the tiny flecks of dust tumbling and dancing on the small stream of sunlight peeking through the barely closed curtains.

Thoughts of this mornings encounter with Melinda Beecham flooded his mind; in spite of all his best efforts to banish them. Try as he may to block them, it seemed that all the sounds of everyday life going on just outside his window were amplified today. He heard the children squealing with laughter at some silly game. The neighbours dog barking incessantly; no doubt at a squirrel or cat that dared invade his domain. Dave across the street banging and clanking on the motor of that car he was hoping beyond all hope to restore one day. Phillip closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift off to happier days.

The years fell away as Phillip drifted deeper and deeper into his daydream and the chance encounter that would forever change his life. Phillip had gone with his buddies to the bowling alley for beers, bullshit and laughs. Just a few lanes down were a group of girls in candy pink bowling jackets with The Marymount Maulers emblazoned across their backs. He and his buddies had cajoled their way through more than a few pints when one of the guys made the unfortunate remark, quite loudly, that the Marymount Maulers looked more like the Marymount Mini Mice!

A tall blonde and a rather petite dark haired girl turned and glared at Phillip and his friends. The dark haired girl with large brimmed glasses reminiscent of Jiminy Cricket boldly strode over to Phillips table. The guys immediately stopped talking and you could hear a pin drop. Staring directly into Phillips eyes, she placed her hands on her hips and stated as loud as she could for all to hear that as they talked the talk, maybe they would like to walk the walk and accept a challenge from The Marymount Maulers to see just who the true mice here were!

The guys roared with laughter and gladly accepted the challenge. However, Phillip did not laugh. His eyes were locked on this feisty little woman standing before him. Pure defiance and courage in such a little package. She had dark blue eyes and frizzy dark hair, pulled back in a rough ponytail. Her features were as fine as a porcelain doll and the name Rose was stitched across her left shoulder. Rose he thought; how fitting in that pink jacket.

The men learned the meaning of the word “mauled” that day. Bruised male egos abounded while the rest of the patrons of the bowling alley stopped to watch these brash young men get their butts kicked. And the Marymount Maulers did not let them down. But all through the game, Phillip could not take his eyes off of the young girl named Rose. And more than once, he caught her looking at him with a sly smile.

It all started that day, so long ago. And Phillip returned, time and again to that bowling alley with and without friends to secretly see the girl he fell madly in love with. Rose Marie. Although she always really hated her name and tried to supplant it with the more familiar Marie, Rose had stuck. Her friends and family would have no other name for her. Her parents being devoted listeners to Rosemary Clooney songs during her conception, decided to name her Rose Marie. And thus, Rose it was and would be always. She was quick to laugh, and even quicker to cry. Although strong in most things, she had an overly sensitive side to her. With sparkling wit and an insatiable desire to devour any and all reading material she could come across, she was the exact opposite of Phillip. He feigned interest during dinner as she droned on about her newest found literary geniuses. The words did not matter to Phillip. As long as he could be with Rose, he would endure anything. He would move mountains for her, and would do so gladly. She was his world.

Days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, and their love grew. Phillip found himself impatient to return home to their meager apartment after work simply to be with Rose. Their embraces at the front door, once closed, were mind shattering! They would listen to Carly Simon and drink cheap wine and dream. Money was tight, but their love was strong and they needed very little. Nights of passion were the norm and giggles and tickles at sunrise when a full day of work beckoned were not uncommon. The idyllic days of a young married couple in love marched on.

Phillips promotion to Foreman and Roses promotion to Assistant Chief Librarian brought much needed funds and a desire for Rose to start a family and find a new home. The evenings of experimental food, and more expensive wine, while Carly Simon sang about vainess, came to an abrupt halt the night Rose refused a glass of wine. Phillip asked if she was well. Rose responded with a big smile that pregnant women should not drink! They hugged and cried, and sat quietly in the candlelit living room as Phillip rubbed Roses stomach and repeated over and over how much he loved her.

The pregnancy was not an easy one, and the doctors advised Rose and Phillip that this would be their only one. Although devastated, they decided that this child would be the most cherished child the world has seen. And perhaps in a year or two, they might consider adopting a brother or sister for her or him.

Rose looked very tired and weak holding the infant daughter in her arms. A daughter. Dark hair and pink skin with delicate little features. Her name was Carly. Once again their lives were forever changed. Their home was filled with toys and songs and books as Carly grew into a young girl. She had her mothers’ love of books and her fathers no nonsense attitude towards life. Though a natural beauty, she had no awareness or considerations of such things. She loved her friends unconditionally, and they loved her in kind. Try as Phillip would, she could not see the world as a dangerous place. She loved all, and was convinced that through love and understanding, she could change the world.

Those were wondrous years, and Rose seemed to grow more beautiful with every birthday. She delighted in being Carlys best friend, and ganging up on old gruff Dad, attempting to change his cynical ways. The years flew by and Carly was now a college sophomore. Her beauty and easy going manner concerned Phillip, and more than one dinner conversation ended with Carly asking that her Mom intervene and get Dad to chill out. And Rose would always grab Phillips hand and reassure that all was well. Phillip would take solace in that and lightly kiss Rose and agree. Carly would roll her eyes in dismay at the expression of love of such an old couple at the dinner table. And though Carly attended a lot of parties, she always came home early, and sober, which made Phillip and Rose very happy that their little girl was outgoing and well adjusted but also well grounded and wise. But, all that changed one dark and rainy Friday night. It was a call that no parent should ever receive.

Phillip reached out to answer the phone knocking books and glasses to the floor and listened to the caller.

“ May I speak with Mr. or Mrs. Preston please? ” As Phillip assured him that he was, in fact, Mr. Preston, the caller continued.

” Mr. Preston, I am Dr. Goldbloom. I am the Physician in charge of emergency services here at Marymount General Hospital. May I ask you, do you have a daughter named Carly? ”

A wave of panic clutched Phillip as he wildly grabbed for the table light.

“ Yes, she is my daughter. What happened ? ”

“ Phillip, who’s on the phone? ”

Rose saw the look of panic on Phillps face and started to yell, “who’s on the phone Phillip? Where is Carly? ”

Phillip tried to listen to the doctor as Rose kept yelling over and over about Carlys whereabouts till he turned to Rose and blurted out, “ Rose, for Christs sake be quiet! ”

Rose immediately burst into tears and stumbled out of bed to get dressed.

“ Mr. Preston, I’m afraid there has been a terrible mishap. Your daughter is here in intensive care. I wish I had more positive news to give you, but at this time, it doesn’t look good. I will be available to talk to you when you arrive. I am truly sorry Mr. Preston. ”

Phillip jumped out of bed and dressed as Rose raced about the house in total panic, wailing my baby, my beautiful baby. Phillip tried his best to comfort Rose as he quickly ushered her out of the house into the car.

“ You’re going to have to calm down Rose. It seems something has happened. I’m not quite sure what, but I am sure that Carly would not want to see her Mom this way! Everything will be alright. She is in very good hands. ”

The ride to hospital was done with total oblivion to any other vehicle on the road as Phillip raced on. Rose simply cried and whimpered over and over again, Carly, my beautiful baby. Phillip and Rose ran into the emergency room where they were met by a nurse who asked them to follow her upstairs to intensive care. Rose was ashen and shaking uncontrollably as they exited the elevator. A doctor in a white smock was standing outside intensive care talking to a tired looking man wearing a rumpled suit.

“ Dr. Goldbloom? Where is my daughter? ”

Phillip realized that Rose was not beside him. He turned to see her standing beside the elevator door, unable to move, tears streaming down her face. He went back and put his arm around her shoulders.

” It’s going to be alright Rose. Come on now, be brave. ”

In the anteroom beside intensive care, Dr. Goldbloom explained that Carly had taken a massive heart attack after consuming drugs. By the time the ambulance arrived, the damage was too great. She was on life support, but declared brain dead. All hope was lost.

Rose and Phillip sat, numbed from the news, till Rose started smacking Phillip wildly.

“ You said it was going to be alright! You lied! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! “

Dr. Goldbloom and the man in the suit gently pried Rose off of Phillip who had sat there, taking the beating, without even wincing. The last goodbye to Carly was too unbearable for Phillip and Rose. A room filled with tubes and machines and a solemn nurse who sat at her desk, darkened but for one lamp that barely illuminated the paperwork she was aimlessly rummaging through. One last gentle kiss, and Rose and Phillip were handed Carlys personal effects. Rose was never the same again.

The days that followed seemed unreal; dreamlike; a dream from which there is no waking. The funeral, the flowers, the sandwiches and coffee, the ministers kind reassurances of Carly being at peace in a better place. None of that mattered.

The card that the man in the suit had given to him that night at the hospital was from the Marymount Police, Narcotics Division. Phillip stared at it over and over again. Carly never took drugs. How did this happen? Little to no information was given to Phillips repeated requests at the police station. No information was available at all.

Rose continued her downslide into hell as doctor after doctor and medication after medication failed to restore her. She had become a shell of her former self, and no family member or friend could pull her out of it. Genuine concern for her physical health became paramount, and Phillip was losing way too much work to stay home with her out of fear that she may harm herself.

Three months to the day that Carly was buried, Phillip received a telephone call at work. Rose was dead. She had swallowed a combination of medications.

Alone, on the couch, revolver on the coffee table, Phillip wept like a child. He was alone. Rose was gone. Carly was gone. He was a man with nothing left to lose. He looked at the revolver. It would be over in a second. No one would care anyways. And he would not have to live with these memories anymore! As he reached out to the gun, the phone rang.

Notes to self

Why do any of us feel we must write? Is it for our selfish pleasure or some warped desire to leave our last mark on this world before exiting unceremoniously? I haven't a clue. But one thing I have learned is that there is a very big difference between someone who writes, and a writer. I belong to the former. Having never studied in writing, I am simply a story teller. My manner of writing involves seeing the story evolve in my minds eye. A sort of movie playing over and over in my mind. I try to describe each scene as it unfolds. I use words, much as a painter would use a palette. It is so uncomplicated, it's stupid. I have no idea if other persons so taken to writing would agree with me, as I don't really know any. Other than Ponderings Of The Pond. My love was borne with another novelette that I wrote. Broken Sparrows. It was rife with errors and grammatical errors, but it was written using the characters as taken from an online chat room that I visit regularly. The response was overwhelming, and thus began my addiction. Perhaps this can be my atonement and apology to all the serious writers out there who strive to create works of value. My purpose here is purely entertainment and diversion from the day to day tedieum. I am Rogue. And I have a story to tell,,,,,I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you Cath

I am so flattered that you would take the time to read the story word for word. I have printed out all of your comments, and will do the necessary corrections when I have time. I truly appreciate your comments. This is a learning process for me. And without imput such as yours, I might wander in the wilderness forever:) Again, thanks.
Rogue

Thank you June

Thanks heaps June. I am truly glad you are enjoying this. I have quite a learn to become a real writer. However, writers are story tellers. Our first priority is to drive the editor of our story nuts!:) I think I am doing good job there. Cheers mate.
Rogue

Dishonour, Chapter 2

The undeniable smell of wet pavement permeated the hot morning air. His neighbourhood was alive with early morning greetings and sounds of hoses washing down the filth of a day, yet to begin. Tomatoes were arranged for the best selling price and that bottle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil that his cousin believed to be the best ever, well, Phillip wasn’t buying it today.

The Grind was a coffee shop. But not just any coffee shop. It was a place that Phillip knew all too well. A new dynamic had been given life. Dylan was their God, and all things poetic were gifts of the powers that be. It was to this lifestyle that his daughter had belonged. Gentleness and fairness to all living things was their creed, and love was their name. She had told him so time and again.

He took a long drag from his half smoked cigarette, flicked the butt into the street and pulled hard on the shiny brass handle of the front door. The heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed his senses, and he smiled, almost. He reached behind to touch the cold steel tucked safely between his belt and lower back. His apprehension was almost palpable as he slowly entered The Grind.

The coffee shop was alive with morning sights and sounds. The rising sun flooded through the oversized front windows as soft new age music twisted thru the scents of coffee and freshly baked croissants. Knapsacks and oversized brightly coloured purses created an obstacle course for the uninitiated. Small groups of kids sat huddled around the hard wooden chairs and tables, babbling on about nothing at all that would interest Phillip this morning. In the centre of the shop was a roughly hewn bin into which all manner of well thumbed tomes of knowledge had been tossed. A young man with a woolen cap and exposed Joe Boxer briefs, IPod fully plugged in and oblivious to all, ransacked the bin. Tossing the books one after another, he remained expressionless in his quest for the reading material of his choice.

Phillip glanced about the shop looking for the anonymous voice; this mystery woman. He saw no one that would even fit the description of mysterious. Other than the college co-eds all hyped up on caffeine and philosophical bullshit, an employee was taking her break staring blankly out at the street and sipping from an oversized mug that resembled a bowl of cereal.

Phillip weaved his way through the knapsacks and oversized purses to the counter.

“ Good morning. What can I serve you today?”

He reached up instinctively to remove his sunglasses, than withdrew his hand abruptly as he realized that his bloodshot eyes might be best served by remaining covered.

“ A large coffee please; one sugar “

Phillip stared at all the shiny equipment glistening in the morning sun and heard the whishing of the Espresso machine as he impatiently waited for the young girl to act upon his request.

“ And what sort of coffee is it that we will be wanting this morning sir?”

He turned his attention back to the well scrubbed girl behind the counter.
“ Coffee. Regular coffee. Large please.”

The young girl smiled and grabbed a bowl off the shelf.

“ Right then, 100% Columbian with one sugar.”

Phillip rummaged through his pocket and pulled a few wrinkled bills out. As he laid the 5 dollar bill down, she handed him the bowl of steaming brew.

“ No charge sir. The manager has taken care of it. She is over there at the window seat. Have a great day, and please, come again.”

Phillip grabbed the bowl with two hands and turned to look at what he had perceived to be an employee on her break. He started to walk towards her table, removing one hand from the bowl and slowly drawing it towards his lower back, coffee spilling as he went. Arriving at the table, he put down his bowl, keeping his hand close to his lower back. She turned to him and smiled, and Phillip sat down. He edged his sunglasses down on his nose, and stared over the top into her face. “Ok, what’s your game?”

Melinda stared back at him. Unshaven and unkempt hair. His breath smelled of cigarettes and coffee, and in spite of his obviously freshly showered person, his wrinkled shirt smelled of body odor.

She recoiled to the back of her chair and forced a smile while extending a hand. “ Good morning Mr. Preston, my name is Melinda Beecham”

Phillip ignored her outstretched hand, drew closer across the table and in a barely audible growl said “ lets drop all these niceties right here and now. You asked me here to discuss last night. I have no idea what you are talking about, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt. So say what you have to say, and be done with it.”

A look of disdain mingled with disappointment quickly replaced the warm smile Melinda had been wearing up till that point. “ Very well Mr. Preston. Let me start by saying that I am not a police officer. I am not a reporter. I am just a normal working single mother of a son who is of the same age as your daughter. I pay my taxes; have never been in jail and always try to help others when I can.”

Phillip cut her off abruptly, “ Fine! Then I will nominate you for the Sister Theresa Award. Now if that is all,,,”

“ Mr. Preston! Please do not judge me so harshly. You haven’t heard what it is I wish to tell you yet!”

Phillip leaned back in his chair, the gun barrel digging into his lower back. He took a long sip of his coffee as thoughts of lighting up a cigarette flooded his brain. What’s the point of going to a coffee shop if you can’t enjoy a cigarette with your morning coffee?

“ I know you received an anonymous call from a young man telling you the name of the person who gave the drugs to your daughter the night she died.”

Philip bolted upright in his chair.

“ And I also know he gave you the information on how to find him. And you did, last night, didn’t you?”

Phillip could feel the veins throbbing in his forehead as he gritted his teeth and snarled, his top lip trying to suppress his rage. Try as he might, no words would form in his brain.

“ I want you to calm down Mr. Preston. I would not have let you see where I work if I had any intention of doing harm to you. Quite the contrary, I am here to help you. That anonymous caller was in fact my son! And while I would never condone the taking of a human life for any other reason, we support your decision in this matter and would like to offer any and all assistance to you.”

Phillips mouth hung open as he fell back into his chair.

“ There are some people I would like you to meet. Can we count on you keeping an open mind in all this Mr. Preston? ”

His mind suddenly became crystal clear as all her words reverberated over and over in his head. So many questions; so many things left unsaid. Who were these people, and how much did they really know? Trust was out of the question, but from where he sat, Melinda Beecham was obviously in the drivers’ seat here. He was only along for the ride and he felt like a rat trapped in a maze with no way out. While concessions would have to be made, so too would a plan to eliminate this possible threat. And what of her son? He also was involved and knew far too much. And so, he would try to buy precious time to enable him to devise his schemes to rid himself of this nasty threat.

“ I see Miss Beecham that you have this all worked out so perfectly. I am simply the meek lamb to be led off to the slaughter. You and your cohorts have stumbled upon a situation that you feel you can control and use to your advantage. Well, it would appear that I have very little choice in this matter. And so, I shall meet with these so-called friends of yours and see what happens.”

Melinda stared sadly across the table, then turned her gaze back out into the street with its morning bustle. As she raised the bowl to her mouth, she realized that there was no coffee left in it. She put it down and returned her disappointed gaze to Phillip.

” You haven’t heard a word I said Mr. Preston. We are here to assist, not to hurt you. Soon, you will see the truth in my words. But right now, I can see your anger and mistrust; however misplaced it is; and know that very soon, that will all change. I won’t keep you any longer, but do try to get some rest. You look like hell!”

Melinda got up and walked back to the counter never looking back.

Phillip, stepping outside into the bright sun, drew his last cigarette crushing the empty pack. Throwing it down as he walked away mumbling " I am going to have to kill that fucking bitch! "