Mirror, Mirror on the Wall ✓

28 | Rendezvous

Chapter 28: Rendezvous

The doorbell rang. Leon Dillard was alone. He went to answer it.

'Luis, we meet again,' he said to the scumfaced gutter rat who was supposedly her worthless daughter's right-hand man. 'Do come in. Other people can hear us if we talk outdoors, you know.' Luis was expressionless as always. He followed him inside. 'Settle down on the sofa. It will be a long talk, I see. My daughter does not think it is worth her time to come and see me, isn't it?' 

'I don't know. She sent me to communicate her plans with you. She has been busy of late. Sanchez has been following our scent like a hound.' There was a hint of mockery in his voice this time, and Leon did not fail to notice that it pointed to Dillard's incompetence in suppressing the investigation.

Leon said without acknowledgement, 'Beer or wine?'

'Beer, thanks.'

Leon returned with a bottle of wine, a bottle of beer and two glasses. He poured the drinks and settled down to talk. They discussed their matters while sipping. Luis was relaying the information to him in bits and pieces. But Leon noticed he had hardly touched his drink, although Leon needed the alcohol. There was so much trouble going on that he could hardly digest any of it without downing it with something to drink. When Luis was still sipping from his first glass, Leon realized his bottle had finished. Luis had been saying something, when Leon said, 'Excuse me, let me go get one more.'

He stood up and turned away, making his way to the fridge. No sooner than he had taken the first step, he felt his hands were being pinned behind him. He tried to flail his hands but was overpowered in a minute. Is this guy trying to rob me? What kind of people does my daughter stay with? he thought.

Although he was Chief of Police, it was only his brains that were of any use now. He was in his last two years of service and although he wasn't weak, he wasn't quite strong either. Luis's were practised hands, strong and powerful. There wasn't any chance of winning in physical combat. The wine had made him groggy too. He immediately cursed himself about his drinking habit. But cursing wouldn't help now.

'What are you doing?! You were supposed to talk! This ain't talking!' said Leon, his words a mess. 'Shut up and walk. Now, where's your nasty old bedroom?' replied Hunter. Leon noticed him glance around the first floor and continue up the stairs when he saw nothing of importance. 'What in the world do you mean to do?!' Leon couldn't do anything but shout pathetically and curse. Hunter tried several rooms and came upon the one which served as Leon's bedroom. He kicked the door open and thrust Leon, face down, on the bed with one hand. He gave a push and Leon turned on his back. He saw Hunter take out a handkerchief with his free hand. He was horrorstruck when Hunter pulled out a large knife from somewhere, using the handkerchief to hold it. He realized what was happening. He started to kick and thrash his legs. 'Say your prayers, old man,' said Hunter. The next moment, the knife had been plunged into his belly and Leon felt a stroke of acute pain. Before he could groan madly, Hunter used the hand that was holding Leon to shield his mouth. But Leon was in no state to resist now. Hunter took out the knife in a dastardly swift motion and again thrust is into the wound, a second blow of duller pain. Leon's legs and arms stopped flailing. He felt the life leak out of him. Hunter turned his almost lifeless body around, so that he now lay on his stomach, and pulled a sheet on him. 'Why, why . . .' Leon Dillard was asking, but only blood and froth gushed out of his mouth when he tried to speak. 

'Why? You have your priceless daughter to thank.'

The blood was pooling under him, but he didn't care anymore. He was dying, he couldn't do anything to change that. His eyelids drooped and drooped and drooped, his vision grew darker and darker until all he saw was black. Then there was a blinding flash of white light and his life was before him, for him to relive once again, only each moment stayed for a fraction of a second and yet felt like a million years. Glimpses from the past appeared in no particular order: his selection in the police, his marriage, his hardworking parents; the birth of his adorable brunette daughter with the most precious smile, growing up to be the most beautiful woman ever; her courtship with Andino Ricci on his stay in Vernolee, the tears in his own eyes as the daughter he loved left him for the man she loved; his selection as the Chief of Police in Roxlow, away from home; the return of her daughter and how disgraced he had felt even if he had helped her; the glinting blade of the knife as it extracted the life out of him; and then all was pitch black.