THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 3

Steve put the photograph down on the kitchen table and then picked it back up again when he realized having such a photo when people were eating weren't such a good idea. The photo was of a young woman, with shoulder length black hair. She was wearing casual clothes, splattered with paint as she had been doing some DIY work in her own kitchen. She looked perfectly normal except that she was lying on her side on the floor, her eyes and body lifeless. She was Jeanie Morgstone, one of Carl Grave's lovers. "So, what's the story, if Jamie didn't really come to antagonize me," Jesse said, not flinching when he said the other man's name.

"He came round to us with a bottle of Cyanide," Steve explained. "Said that he found it in Jeanie Morgstone's cupboard."

"What was Jamie doing in Jeanie's flat?"

Steve gave him a sidelong glance. "They met each other at the party. Jeanie was upset because she had realized Carl Graves had dumped her. She ended up going home with Jamie. Things went kind of steady onwards from there. It seems that Jamie, this morning, found this in Jeanie's cupboard—this bottle of Cyanide. And you know that Cyanide was found in Carl's body."

Amanda nodded. "It makes sense for her to do this," she said. "I overheard her complaining to this other woman. Carl had dumped him. When she realized how Carl was now going out with, she flipped. Said that she would kill Carl. The fact that Jamie found the bottle with Jeanie's fingerprints on it still proves that she could be the killer. Then she realized, after the height of everything what she'd done, been sleeping with Jamie and murder, and killed herself."

Mark nodded this time. "Yeah. A suicide note was found."

Steve sat in thought for a moment. "What if Jamie forged it," he said and everyone else turned round to look at him questioningly. "I mean, Jamie has the bottle. He's a doctor, he could have done. He could have killed Carl Graves, even though his motives are unknown at the moment. Then, he goes to Jeanie Morgstone's house. Finds out that she has a motive to kill and plants it all. Then he kills her as well."

Mark shook his head. "You're forgetting a few things. Like, we know for a fact that Jamie went out of the room straight after Jesse. Cyanide takes a few minutes to work. He couldn't possibly have put it into Carl Grave's drink. As far as we know, he has no connection with Carl Graves. Besides, where would Jamie come up with the money to hire a killer."

Amanda then set her fork down. "Yes, and when would Jeanie have time to hire a killer? She only found out about the break up and said she would kill him during the party. She couldn't have hired the killer—she couldn't even have gotten the Cyanide that quickly."

Steve sighed. "Well, that gets rid of two suspects. But why would Jeanie kill herself."

"Depression, why else?" Jesse replied, making his way through the salad. "Let's face it—Jeanie just got dumped by the man she loved for one of her good friends. Then she ends up spending the week in bed with Jamie. She was as depressed as hell. She could see one way out—killing herself. Come on, Steve, even you would say that suicide is an easy way out for depressed people."

Steve nodded. "Technically, that only leaves Machu Lie. I hate to say it, but he seems like the most likely suspect. He has very strong means as well to kill—stronger than all of them if you ask me. All we need to do is find out how those Cyanide pills got to Jeanie's place and find a way of connecting Duke Lotella to Machu Lie." Steve turned to Jesse. "Have you got any breakthrough with Duke to find out who hired him?"

Jesse shook his head, trying to put on a regretful face. "Not yet, he's totally tight lipped, even with me. I've quit asking him for a while before he pounds my face into the ground." He laughed to himself and the others looked at each other.

Mark leaned across the table slightly. "Jesse, exactly how well do you know, Duke?"

Jesse looked up and smiled thinly. "Well, I spent my time with him in an elevator for seven hours. I didn't die. I mean…I get on with him because of that but that's about it. He doesn't want to kill me, if that's what you mean." He looked at Mark. "Why?"

"Oh, it's probably nothing," Mark said. "I'm just a little bit concerned, that's all. You won't do anything stupid, will you?" Mark knew he was using the same type of tone he did when warning Steve about something.

Jesse's hand clenched in his pocket, where he held a bottle that he had stolen from the hospital. "What would I do?" he asked and paused. "I'm just going to the—err—bathroom. I'll be back." He disappeared into the bathroom quickly and looked at himself in the mirror. Then he took out the small bottle. It was a liquid, clear and would blend in with the IV. The bottle itself was orange. Jesse sighed and took another big breath in as he realized what he was going to do. If anyone ever found out…He had said to Mark he wouldn't do anything stupid as well. Well, he didn't, he just made Mark assume that he wouldn't but it was practically the same thing. He didn't want to disobey Mark…

Back at the table, Mark watched the younger doctor get up and head for the bathroom. There was a slight frown on his face and his son noticed. "Dad, what's up?" he asked. "Something to do with Jesse?"

Mark nodded. "Yes, it does have to do with him. I'm concerned about him. He's spending a lot of time with Duke in that room. I get the feeling that they do actually get along."

"You don't think Duke manipulated Jesse then?" Steve asked.

Mark shook his head. "No, not at all. It's a genuine friendship. If you watch them in there it's like they've known each other for ages. They can have a conversation just as good as you and me and not talk about murder or threats. There was never any threatening involved in that. I think it's a good thing but I'm just worried about how far Jesse is going to take it with this friendship. The man is a professionally hired killer. It's dangerous for both of them to get involved in any kind of friendship."

Amanda looked over at her friend. "Mark, what are you trying to say?"

Mark shook his head. "I'm not even sure myself. It's strange. I can't even explain it myself. But if Jesse doesn't realize it just yet—that Duke Lotella is heading straight for prison. There's no way to escape it, considering the bullets match. Lotella is a hired killer so other killings will be taken into account. I just don't know how Jesse will react to it."

"That's why you think Jesse will do something stupid?" Steve asked.

Mark nodded. "I used to be worried about letting Jesse in there because Duke may attack him as they barely knew each other. But what I'm more worried about now is that they barely know each other now but they're going to get to know each other a lot more. And come that time when Duke has to go, we could have some major problems arising." Steve and Amanda both looked at him. Suddenly they didn't feel like eating.

Steve shook his head. "I don't see it. Dad, Jesse wouldn't do anything. He's…he's not stupid. He's been around with us long enough to know about criminals and why they have to be put away. He's been involved with women who have turned out to be killers. Yet, he did nothing about them."

Mark sighed. "Maybe you're right." From the tone of his voice, Steve and Amanda could tell that his son's words had actually penetrated through. Mark had just been slightly worried. Steve was definitely reassured by his own words. After several years, Jesse wasn't capable of such a thing. But Amanda folded her arms across her chest. As much as a friend Jesse was, she wasn't so sure…

* * * * *

Searing pain soared across him. Duke couldn't believe what was happening to him. He was sweating and soaking up the sheets. He felt so hot as though he was in the Bahamas. And the nausea…it was enough to make him faint. He thought he was going to pass out—he'd rather pass out than live with that horrible feeling forever threatening him and making his life hell. What's the more, the amount of shaking that had added to it, made his muscles ache from all the tension. He shook his head from side to side, the light blinding his eyes. Duke wasn't sure, but he could swear that at some point, he did pass out.

Jesse had come into his room earlier that day after he walked out. He asked once again if he really wanted to do this. Duke agreed and so Jesse slipped it from the bottle. "What is it?" Duke had asked. "It's just a higher laxative. It shouldn't do much harm." Harm! Duke thought he was dying all over again. Jesse had slipped the laxative into the IV. All they could do was wait.

When Duke next opened his eyes, there were people all around him. They were talking words he didn't understand. One of the voices, he could swear he could recognize, but the nausea was just too much. He was being moved from his room to another one. When he opened his eyes clearly, he could see Jesse Travis was there. Looking around, he could see there was suddenly no one else in the room. He gripped the doctor's arm. "You lied to me," he said, distracting the doctor from his work.

Jesse looked down at Duke. "What? What could I have possibly lied to you about?"

"How it would feel," Duke answered, smiling grimly. "I feel like hell."

Jesse shook his head. "It's all going to be over soon. We give you some antibiotics, pain killers and the rest—well, the rest you have to throw up." He smiled slightly as Duke grimaced but the conversation ended abruptly when more physicians came into the room with Mark himself. They checked Duke over and eventually came to their conclusion about the fever due to the rising temperature and nausea. Jesse tried his best to not look so guilty but he didn't know how to not look guilty.

Duke had been given all the necessary medications and now returned to his room a couple of hours later. Jesse came out of the examining room where they had been. "Man, some wave, huh?" he said.

Mark nodded. "Yeah. Strange how it came over so quickly but I guess some things remain unanswered. I guess we're going to have to keep him for another few days." It was the statement Jesse had been waiting for. He looked at the young doctor that watched the gurney. "Are you going to go back in there with him?"

Jesse looked at his watch. "Yeah, I think so. My shift finished ten minutes ago anyway." He watched as Mark nodded and then carried on down the corridor. Jesse sighed and leaned against the wall of the hospital, letting out his breath slowly. Such things were risky—even though it was the first time he had done such a thing. Any small thing could cost someone their life; he knew that as a doctor. "What am I doing?" Jesse asked to himself the realization hitting him. Every so often, the reality of the situation flooded back into him and Jesse wondered why he was doing this. He had no connection with the man apart from a few hours. Why should he help him? The thrill of having something exciting to do?

Jesse turned away and walked down the hall towards Duke's room once again. What he was unaware of was the figure watching him from the pathology labs. Amanda had been totally concealed from view but had been eyeing Jesse since Duke Lotella had come out of the examining room. Something struck her as odd so she watched Jesse lean against the wall and then head down the corridor. Shaking her head, she returned inside. "I hope you know what you're doing Jesse."

A few hours later saw Jesse Travis still in the room with Duke Lotella. Both of them were sleeping but Jesse was in one of the nearby chairs, every so often shifting himself so he didn't feel too uncomfortable. He was only half-asleep, though. He was aware of the sounds around him and every time Duke started to retch or getting hotter of colder depending on the fever. But eventually, overwhelmed by the whole day, Jesse slunk into a sleep, thinking about the conversation the night before. You won't do anything stupid, will you? God, it was as though Mark 'knew.' But then again, Mark tended to know everything. What made him think he could pull this off? Mark had solved the crimes of the century and here he was, trying to be clever to sneak a hitman out of a hospital, right under Mark's nose? It was never going to work. Jesse had never looked at the consequences before until now. He could lose his job and license over this. Was Duke really worth it? Jesse fell to sleep on that thought.

Duke woke up in the early hours of the morning. He couldn't remember much of what happened the night before. He remembered the nausea and it didn't seem to be around at the moment. He was still hot so he moved the sheet down a bit, hoping the movement wouldn't bring back the nausea. The room was dark and he could just about make out the dark shadows and shapes when his eyes got accustomed to it. The only light that infiltrated it was from the small part under the door and the moonlight that drifted through the half drawn blinds. He was about to settle back into a restless sleep again when something caught his attention—a deep breath and then someone exhaling. Duke's head snapped round to the side and he could make out a figure, sitting in the chair.

"I could kill you right now," Duke whispered to himself. "It wouldn't be too hard for me to get out of bed, take anything from this room and knock you across the head. I could get rid of this nagging feeling once and for all of what I'm meant to do…you are nothing to me, kid. You're just a bystander I happened to be trapped with. I've never let anyone get away with it alive." He clutched his sheets tighter. "Why am I allowing you to get away with it?"

Duke knew it was so easy. Maybe that's what was stopping him. Maybe he didn't feel right without his gun instead? His methods of whacking someone across the head were not clean enough for him. But once he killed Travis, how would he get out? The guard would know and he was in no condition to run anyway with this fever that he had. No…he would wait and see what Jesse came up with. If he got him out, he would kill him afterwards. That would be the easiest thing to do…Duke just wasn't quite sure if he could do it. Duke was concerned about him.

Just then, the doctor started to stir. He opened his eyes slightly and stretched in the chair. Then he noticed the man in the bed looking at him. "Hey," he muttered sleepily. "How are you doing?"

Duke shrugged and then shivered so he pulled up the sheets. "Better than I did a few hours ago, I'm sure." He paused. "You ain't been here all night, have you?"

Jesse smiled slightly. "No, just half of it." He stood up and turned on the light but dimmed it so it wouldn't hurt their eyes so much. Then he laughed lightly. "Was it really that bad? I thought that if you were not in so much pain you would have reached up and strangled me."

"Tempting offer," Duke mused. He tried to sit up with Jesse's help. "So, we got the first part of this horrible mess done. I'm bloody well ill and still sitting in this hospital bed. I suppose you're still doing the rest."

Jesse nodded. "Well, I've persuaded Mark to keep you here. You'll be better within a few days provided that it all agrees with your immune system. But in order for this to work, I still need you to pretend to be ill so that you can walk around easily. I know I think, how I'm going to get that guard out of the way and I'm going to pack a doctor's outfit here as well. We can't afford anyone to recognize you so that's how you leave, okay?" Duke nodded and then asked how he was going to get the guard away. "Well, there's a rather stubborn worker here who has been made to do this job. She's been begging for a reason to get fired. She just may get her wish."

"You got this all worked out, ain't you, Dr Travis."

Jesse nodded. "I got it all worked out and it seems so easy that it might just not work. I can't afford it to not work. I don't know why I'm doing this for you, but when we get out of this, you owe me a big favor."

Duke nodded, his eyes starting to close again from the lack of sleep. Jesse watched him go. "I know I owe you," Duke muttered. "I just know I'm going to have to do something and it's gonna have to be big."

* * * *

Tough and determined, a man walked into Community General in the early hours of the morning, wearing a long brown jacket that was down to his ankles. His clothes were loose fitting and flowing with complex designs and vivid colors. He stuck out in the crowd and he was certainly not ashamed of it. Despite his short frame, he looked easily over the crowd of people to find someone who he recognized. But he was spotted first. "Machu?" Mark asked, coming towards him with a perplexed expression on his face. "It's seven o'clock in the morning, Machu, what are you doing here."

"I," Machu said with honestly, "have been deeply insulted. By your trust, Mark-o-san." He looked down at the ground. "I understand how much your business as a doctor and a police consultant mean to you. But to go beyond a layer of friendship to ensure you find a murderer is something that only truly obsessive people do."

Mark frowned. "Machu, what are you talking about?"

"What I am talking about is going into someone else's are without their permission and deliberately search for something that could incriminate them to a murder. I know…you heard Dr Garrison and I talking about it. But to think that I would do something to a man whom I have served for fifteen years is disgraceful. And to go around someone's office without their permission is even worse."

Mark sighed. "How did you find out?"

Machu narrowed his eyes. "Some technology in the world is unnecessary. For other times it proves most useful. There is a camera right above my office. When I noticed that the envelope in my cupboard had been tampered with I immediately went to see because I know no one searches through my desk. I remembered your friend from the party last week."

Steve sighed and walked over to the man. "Machu, is it true that you invested all your money into Carl's company and even gave him the boost and ideas to start it up?" Machu nodded. "And when the whole thing was a success, Carl gave you no credit for you at all."

Machu nodded. "That is correct. He did give me the opportunity to be his secretary. He did promise me my credit for fifteen years and every day I waited for that moment but it never came. But I still stayed as that secretary. I was happy with my job. I thought…that eventually, I would get my 'cut' as you Americans call it." There was almost regret in those eyes. He looked from Steve to Mark and then at Amanda who he recognized from the video. There didn't seem to be a trace of anger any more. He seemed almost upset but was doing his best to hide it.

Steve looked back down at the pieces of paper in his hand. "But then, on the 12th April, three months ago, Carl Graves proposed the fact that he was going to cut you out of the will. It seemed he was going to give you share of the company to his other son. That's over three quarters of the company gone and you still didn't get your credit."

Machu Lie's eyes narrowed even more until they were only dark slits in his face. "Yes, that is also true, I regret. I was hurt at first. To think that fifteen years of friendship and the honest work I did for the man had suddenly disappeared. He rid me of my credit, my notability and then he rids me of what was rightfully mine in the process. I never wanted to be famous, have my face on magazines and on television. That's why I gave the idea to Carl Graves. And like any European, who wants to make it into the world, he took his chance. The only thing I wanted was to have my name known, even if I was a shadow in the limelight. I didn't even get that. Now I do not get even a small percentage of the company."

Steve sighed regrettably. "Does that mean you would kill him?"

Machu's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Kill him…" he asked, his voice dropping off. He understood now where the questions were leading and instead of being angry at the accusation, he seemed completely lost. His face was a mask of confusion. Amanda almost felt sorry for him. His hand started to tremble, as he now knew where he was going. "I would never kill him…I admired him. I may have hated him for what he had done to me over the past few months—but I'd never resort to such a thing as murder."

Mark knew that. But he had to face the facts. Some people could be good actors. Machu may just be hiding behind one of them. Anyone was capable of murder if they really wanted to do it. Machu seemed to have perfect means to do it. Judging by what he said, he really meant what he felt about Carl Graves. Machu did mean most things he said but there was definitely decisiveness to his words. So Mark didn't say anything. I know, he silently wanted to say but that was not possible. From the look on his son's face, he knew that he was able to take Machu Lie in.

"Mark-o-san?" Machu asked his friend, destroying the silence within the four people. Jesse rounded the corner and seeing what was going on, decided to stay out of the way so watched from a safe distance.

Dark brown eyes met sorrowful blue ones as Mark shook his head. "I'm sorry, Machu."

Machu looked down at the ground. "At least I go with some honor. I hated what Carl had done to me. If someone were needed to go to prison just to repay his death then I would go. But ask yourself if it would fall heavier on your conscience to know that you were putting an innocent man in jail. I do not expect pity from you; I just hoped you would understand my hate and know me well enough not to judge on what is laid out before you eyes but how well you know a person."

Mark turned and walked away from Machu as he heard his son read Machu's rights. "Machu Lie, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be used again you in a court of law…" Machu didn't protest nor did he look back.

Authors rant:

Thanks very much everyone, who's been reviewing so far. I really appreciate it and hope you continue to keep my spirit up (considering I've got end of year exams coming up and this year, the revision list looks longer!)

Sooo…I'm on a spree for ideas. I don't know if you fellow authors out there are like me, that if you overdo an idea, it becomes boring to right. But I need inspiration to cure my writers block. (Don't worry, this story will get finished.

End Authors Rant.