CHERRY-PICKED

Chapter 2

Alan was furious that he had been played. But the fact that his brother and sister–in–law were missing got the better of him. He explained the situation in detail to the FBI agents and pleaded them to stay away from it. Hugo and Walter were trying to explain how they have a better chance of getting the Pentagon advisor back alive. It was a boring diplomatic negotiation. So, Luke started wandering around the house amicably but, looking for clues. If anyone saw him wandering no one would be able to make out that he was investigating rather sightseeing. He turned on the Record player and put vinyl in it. An opera music, La donna è mobile, started playing loudly throughout the house, like a 5.1 surround sound. It was like the music was emanating from all the corners of the house and travelling towards the center. Luke enjoyed the music, he knew this one. He started lip–syncing with the lyrics.

"Turn that down!", shouted Walter from the other room with Alan to which, Luke paid no attention.

"Wright, turn off that music! Don't make me come over there."

Luke continued to enjoy it like he couldn't hear anything else. It looked like he was intentionally pissing off Walter. Walter came over storming and turned off the record player.

"What is wrong with you?", shouted Walter.

Luke stood up walked over to the other end of the room and turned on the music system. Loud metal started playing in a similar manner; 5.1 surround sound, music was emanating from all the corners of the house travelling towards the center. Walter became furious. He walked over and switched off the music system. Luke left the room and continued loitering and Walter resumed the boring diplomatic negotiation on the FBI taking over the case.

"Mr. Maksym, please understand that we have to take over from here. We are the best chance for you to get your brother and his wife back alive. All the phones and surveillance will be tapped. Roads, sidewalks and junctions monitored. Let us do our job!"

"No.", replied Alan. "If the kidnappers find out that I involved the police then I will never see them alive ever again. Please, you must leave and let me handle this by myself."

"We cannot allow that. We have setup a perimeter int this neighborhood with complete surveillance. Give us your phone and let us take over. We promise we will get them back alive. You have my word."

"No! I am not giving you my phone!", protested Alan relentlessly.

"Mr. Maksym, listen to us, we..."

"No!" Alan interrupted refusing to hear what Walter had to say. "I'm not giving you my phone and I am not speaking another word until my lawyer gets here! NOT A WORD!!!"

At this point, Alan had completely lost it. He ran into a room and shut himself inside. Walter and Talia followed him and kept knocking over the door trying to persuade Alan to come out and cooperate with them. Walter kept arguing that the FBI is Alan's best chance of getting his brother and sister–in–law back alive but, Alan kept repeating the same word as a response: 'Lawyer!'. Multiple attempts were made by Talia but in vain. This man was adamant. Not a surprising characteristic for an accountant. This was going to be harder than the FBI had presumed. Not only was this a matter of national security but this Alan was making it harder for them. The pressure from the DA was immense. They were given strict orders to wrap this up as soon as possible and retrieve the Maksyms unscathed.

Luke entered one of the three bedrooms, the one that screamed 'Master Bedroom'. It was obvious given its size and grandeur. It was as if the bedroom was divided in two with the left half, the one closer to the door, indicating masculinity and the right half, the one closer to the window, indicating femininity. The room contained a king–sized double bed, two straight–backed chairs, a washstand, a bureau without any mirror, an armoire and a make–up table. An elaborate computer desk with a 24–inch monitor, high–end wireless mouse and a butterfly keyboard. The computer had not been touched for days. The bed was not made, the silk sheets were cluttered, pillows hanging in awkward positions, clothes rack chaotic with most of the clothes on the floor. It was like the aftermath of a ticker-tape parade. There was no struggle here, just scruffiness. But, the Maksyms didn't strike as the kind who are disorganized. The wastebasket, however, was clean. All the garbage was around the basket and nothing in it. There were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows and the windows had not been raised. Pictures of hiking, trekking, camping and other adventures of the Maksym couple hung all over the wall. This led Luke to infer that the two were recently married and didn't have any kids. The machismo side of the room consisted of sports memorabilia and spartan hero collectibles arranged on his nightstand. There was a bookshelf near his nightstand. Most of the books were on business and self–development. The feminine part of the room consisted of hair products, perfume, diary, fuzzy–topped pencils, nail polish, bracelets, bangles and earrings all over the make–up table. There was a waft of bitter hairspray in the bedroom's atmosphere. The whole room smelled like hairspray. He noticed a dog bowl at the corner of the room. The bowl had the name 'Anthony' engraved on it in bold brown color. He decided to go in search of the dog. He followed the shortest path to the verandah all the while whistling and calling out the dog's name simultaneously. When he reached the front porch he saw one of the neighbor's, an old man in his late sixties wearing a polo t–shirt and cargo shorts, holding a golden retriever by the leash and answering questions to the police outside.

"That the Maksyms' dog?", asked Luke.

"Yep!", replied the old man turning towards Luke as the police questioning him wrapped up the conversation and moved on to the next.

"He must've escaped through that door. Yes?", asked Luke pointing to the backdoor of the house through which he came.

"Yeah. That door is quite a fix. The bolt in that door is difficult to latch once opened. It has been posing a problem for the owners. They tried to get it fixed several times but the hitch kept showing up. So, they got accustomed to the make-shift. They found a knack to latch it close. They've been using that workaround ever since. Never bothered to call another repairman."

"Oh, I see. Let me relieve you of him.", said Luke taking over the leash of the dog. He pampered the dog and took him back to the house and tied him properly. From these set of events, Luke had more clarity as to what has happened here. He ran back into the house. He saw Walter was still knocking on Alan's door trying to convince him to come out and hand over the phone, a futile exercise. Luke stepped in. Walter gave Luke a puzzling look as if he was here to cause more trouble than that persisted. No one can blame him. It was a distinct characteristic of Luke.

"Reilly, please step aside. I know how to bring Alan out of the room."

"Really? How you gonna do that?", asked Walter skeptically.

Luke, instead of answering his colleague/boss, he proceeded to knock on Alan's door.

"Alan, come out. I have good news. Well, sorta..."

"What good news?", interjected Walter eagerly. Luke continued to address Alan.

"Your brother and sister–in–law are fine. They've gone on a holiday. Someone else was living here and the kidnapper took them instead.", said Luke stunning everyone in the room.

"How do you know that?", interjected Walter again.

Luke decided to answer Walter making sure he was audible enough for Alan as well.

"Last night the music system was playing, not the Record player. The Maksyms liked to listen to French opera, not thrash metal, so why was the music system on?! Another thing, they had numerous photos of trekking, camping, hiking and other adventurous activities hanging in their bedroom indicating that they rarely stay home. So, it is safe to assume that they let their friends or neighbors stay while they are away because they were not here days on end. Further, the bedroom was a complete mess, when most of the other rooms and the work table was spic and span. The Maksyms do not like to leave their house a mess. They have a habit of keeping it clean and tidy. Lastly, whoever was here left the backdoor open this morning and let the dog escape, not due to carelessness but, due to lack of dexterity. Because only the Maksyms knew how to bolt the crooked back door once it was opened and they wouldn't have left it open for the dog to meander away. Obviously, they were not here, ergo they have not been kidnapped. So someone else, most probably a couple, was here last night and the kidnapper 'mistook' them as the Maksyms.", explained Luke making quote marks with his fingers when saying mistook, intending a pun. "So, like I said earlier, good news... sorta."

"Slim but makes sense.", agreed Walter.

All of a sudden, the lock released, the doorknob turned and Alan stepped out of his room.

"That... uh, that–that was incredible.", stammered Alan. "That totally made sense. But, are you absolutely positive about everything you just said?", asked Alan.

The chances were indeed slim like Walter pointed out but, the conclusion he had drawn was the most logical one. According to him, his hypothesis was highly likely and was the best chance they had given the circumstances. He decided to convince Alan but, for that, he himself had to be convinced of his hypothesis, even if it was not solid when he re–thought the scenario in his mind. He could substantiate his theory now and later, after convincing Alan, rummage out more clues and concretize it. As Luke was about to open his mouth to guarantee Alan of his deductions and logical conclusion the main door of the house opened precisely at that moment. A couple burst into the house. They were carrying with them hiking equipment and travel backpacks, wearing sports attire and mountain boots. Everyone could see their face change expression from incredulity into horror as the couple laid eyes at the mess surrounding the hall, the police around their neighborhood and the FBI all over their abode. Their oblivious, horrified faces divulged the information that they had absolutely no idea as to what was transpiring around them. However, Alan's face lit up like a fairground with hilarity and self–satisfaction. This couple was a sight for his sore eyes. It was the Maksyms.

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