Til Debt Do Us Part

Chapter 9

Percy peered through the slit of his partially opened office door. "First you call my private line from a public switchboard then you come here to my office!" He hissed.

"I didn't have a choice, Percy. Have you heard anything I said? Those people you hired shot at Mathew!"

" I didn't hire them, Borden did." He shut the door and paced the room.

"And there's the other thing. Humphrey wound up in the hospital, what's happened to him?"

"How should I know?"

"Well haven't you called and checked for heaven's sake? Percy! He's your employee . . . and friend."

Annoyed, he went to his desk and snapped on the intercom. "Janet, call the hospital and see how Borden is doing."

"Is Mr. Borden in hospital, sir?"

"Didn't I just say call the hospital?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry. Which hospital?"

"What? Wait a minute." He looked at Lillian. "Well, which hospital?"

"Polyclinic." Percy's light was dimming in her eyes.

"Janet? Polyclinic."

"Should I report back to you, sir."

"Yes, Janet . . . if he's able have him call me." He shut off the intercom and marched around to his putting carpet.

"Can I get a glass of water, Percy, I feel woozy and so dry?"

"Just hit that red button and ask Janet." He selected a putter and tested the grip.

"I thought you didn't want anyone to know I was here."

The look had her sitting back down and closing her eyes. He put a ball on the mat and carefully gauged the distance then drew back the club a little and--

"Sir, your private line."

********

Constance rested her hand on Humphrey's forehead, cooing encouraging words while Rodney leaned on the windowsill, phone clamped to his ear. Humphrey had improved enough to have visitors and they were taking every advantage to keep their potential financial prospect going.

"Finally. Is this Percy Rudman? . . . I'm calling on behalf of Humphrey Borden. . . . It doesn't matter how I got this number. You said I was working for you remember? . . . What I need is a copy of the divorce papers in his files. . . . because Patton burned them! . . ."

Percy stared at Lillian. "Your husband burned the papers?"

"I was going to tell you but you never give anyone a chance to speak."

"You have a chance now, Lillian."

"I was at home when Math--"

"Quiet, I'm on the phone." He shook his head and placed a hand over his eyes. "Yes, yes I'm here . . . What about Patton? . . . You don't know? You want me to rush copies of the papers to you and you don't even know where he is? . . . I don't care how he got away . . . there's NO TIME! . . . I am royally screwed you idiot! . . . What? Is that a threat? . . . You'll what? . . . Look, I was out of . . . I'm trying to say I'm sor-- . . . yes, yes I understand. Listen, find him anyway and-- and--" He glanced at Lillian and covered the phone, whispering. "Give the bugger a whipping. . . . Yes, your money will be there . . . who? . . . Oh, Humphrey, yes well tell him to get better soon we all miss him."

He hung up and sat on the edge of the desk, sighing. "Well so much for making millions at Blue Shoals."

"Oh, Percy I'm so sorry. What will we do now?"

"I'll have to ask Humphrey."

"But he's in hospital."

"He isn't deaf!" Percy started walking around looking at the floor. "Did you see where my golf ball went?"

********

Mathew sat in his car on the shoulder of the road eating a warm burger with the works, delivered with a mandatory smile from the drive through window server. It didn't really matter, he just needed something on his stomach. A can of diet pop washed the gummy substance down and he wiped his mouth as he considered his options.

Burning the papers had only delayed things, he realized. At least long enough to screw up Percy's plan but now what? The divorce had been filed and he didn't see Lillian withdrawing the action. She might even opt for a default, he thought.

A transport roared past, rocking the sedan and it moved him to start driving again, "First things first," he said to no one in particular. "New windshield before a cop stops me."

********

"He doesn't know much about covering his tracks." Rodney closed his phone and made a few notes in a small book. "He had a new windshield installed and paid by credit card."

"And now?" Constance buffed a formidable looking nail.

"Now I keep track of that card usage and meanwhile I call this Windshield Glass company and find out what they might know about our Mr. Patton."

"I don't see much good news there."

"Never underestimate the phenomenon of small talk, my dear."

Rodney punched in the number from the information on the credit card record and spoke to a Carl, who answered with the slogan, 'Glasses for your car!' After a few moments, Rodney learned that Patton had left the car and gone to the local diner for a meal and to wait for repairs.

"You see? Another step along the time line. He had to wait about two and half hours for the car."

Rodney came from the diner and climbed into the rental car.

"Well?"

"Waitress remembered him well. Agitated guy, she said. He also used the payphone twice. See what I mean, baby . . . little steps down the time line." He took out his phone and made a call.

"You really are connected aren't you, Rodney?"

"A must in my business. Like a P.I., gotta have contacts and sources."

"And what did that source say?"

"In about twenty minutes I'll know who Patton called."

********

Harmon Lassiter put the call on speaker and invited his partners to listen as Mathew Patton, owner of the last remaining villa impeding the reconstruction of the Blue Shoals project proposed a sale price.

"Is he nuts? That's twice what it's worth!"

"I can hear you, sir-- whoever you are." Mathew's voice came over loud and clear.

"You'll have to excuse my partner, Mr. Patton, but that amount is rather stiff."

"Mr. Lassiter, I'm not normally a vindictive man and this is nothing personal toward you but I'm not negotiating. Percy Rudman has upset my personal life trying to acquire this property in ways I don't think you would imagine and I'm returning the favour."

"Now there's always room for negoti--"

"Sorry. I'll just find another buyer. Thanks for listening."

"No! Wait-- wait a second now. No need to be hasty. I think we may be able to meet your offer but as you can imagine it requires board approval and sharehol--"

"Excuse me, sir but I really don't care what is required at your end. My end requires an answer within the hour. I can be reached at this number. One hour, Mr. Lassiter."