The Boy in the Bin

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Fred arrived home from work early and poured himself a drink. He felt rather good after having a relaxing weekend in the Hampton’s. In addition, his meeting today with ex-con Dexter made him believe all his problems with partner Raul would soon be solved. As he sat there pondering his plans, the kitchen door opened. Marcia walked into the living room and plunked herself down in a chair across from her father.

“Well Daddy,” she hissed, “did you enjoy the little peep show I left for you?”

“You are a real bitch Marcia,” Fred commented. “I thought I raised you with more of a moral compass than you showed on the tape.”

“I’m 24 years old Dad,” Marcia shouted. “You’ve got no right to be spying on me.”

“I do when you include my partner and my office,” Fred shouted back. “Where the hell is your brain?”

“I think you’re just jealous, Dad,” Marcia hypothesized. “You haven’t been right since Mom died and you hate it when someone is getting more action than you are.”

“Don’t you worry about that Miss Prissy,” Fred jeered, “I get plenty on my own.”

“I happen to like Raul,” Marcia argued, “and he treats me like a lady. I don’t care if your problem is with the fact I’m seeing him.”

“Marcia,” Fred broke in, ’he’s a married man. You are a pretty, young 24-year-old. With your charm and beauty, you could get about any man you want. Why would you deliberately piss me off by going out with him?”

“Raul is almost on the brink of divorce,” Marcia lectured. “He’s a good man and we talk a lot. His wife is a royal bitch from what I’ve been told. She sure as hell didn’t impress me at your birthday party. I like being with him and no matter what you say, I don’t intend to change.”

“Raul is an asshole,” Fred remarked. “Sylvia is a warm, generous woman and she treats him good. She does wonderful work at her job working for the Rescue Mission. Raul slacked in his work. He only wants the gravy clients like Mrs. Rosencranz and Mr. Sandez. He pushes off the low paying clients to the lower associates. I knew the board of directors made a big mistake when they gave him a partnership in this business. But his partnership may end soon.”

“What do you mean ‘may end soon’, Marcia asked.

“Rolland Sandez is one of his big clients,” Fred continued. “The guy is a sleazeball and I’m sure he’s into some illegal stuff. He complained to one of my associates he thinks Raul is overcharging him. Even though I don’t like the guy, he pours a lot of money into the firm. I don’t want to lose his lucrative business. Sandez isn’t someone you mess around with. He would likely shoot you as he would be in the same room as you.”

“Tough shit, Daddy,” Marcia hollered. “You keep your opinions and I’ll keep mine. You can’t scare me with your suspicions about Sandez because I know Raul. He would never ingratiate himself with someone involved in illegal matters. I will continue to see Raul; and not you, Sandez, Sylvia or anybody else will change my situation.”

Marcia got up from her chair and charged out of the room. The slamming of the kitchen door reminded Fred of a gunshot. He poured himself another drink and thought again about Stephen Dexter. Evidently, the ‘services’ of Mr. Dexter would be needed soon. Not only did Raul present a detriment to the business, but now he turned his daughter against him.

Fred theorized he needed to insulate himself from any actions he intended to take. Dexter is the perfect patsy for the job, but he possesses enough street smarts to avoid an obvious con-job. When everything finally comes down, he will take the fall. To do this Fred needed to make sure all the pieces were in place.

His mind churned to work out a plan.

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