Chapter Eleven
Bill pulled his newly issued car into the parking lot of the Palmdale Hotel, glancing nervously toward the sky. I'm glad this is the last stop, this town gives me the creeps, he thought. He always felt like he was tempting fate or rather attracting the attention of 'the little green guys' just by driving into this town.
"Listen Villicana, I'll do the talking here; you just take notes. Got it?" Bill ordered. Villicana was a good kid, but he needed to do less talking and more listening, Bill thought.
Tony remained silent so Bill assumed he got the message.
Bringing an inexperienced agent into this town was very unsettling. Bill had every intention of high-tailing it out of here as soon as they were finished, if not sooner.
"The contact's name is Johnny Trombone, the office manager," Tony told Bill, feeling the need to contribute something to the investigation. "It says here, he reported a broken window."
Bill nodded, "Let's go, kid."
The 7 story hotel was an attractive piece of architecture, nicely landscaped and adorned with exotic trees and flowering plants, creating a restful park-like atmosphere. The parking lot was fairly empty, except for a handful of cars dotting the lot.
They walked past a small waterfall fountain in the lobby to the manager's office. A tall, dark-haired man in an expensive-looking suit rose from his seat and approached Bill and Tony.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen, I'm Johnny Trombone, the hotel's manager. How may I be of service to you?" he asked in a kind and gentle manner.
Bill flashed his FBI badge, "I'm Special Agent Bill Maxwell and this is Agent Tony Villicana. We're with the FBI following up on a complaint you filed last year. We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."
Johnny stepped aside and indicated that they should proceed into his office. He followed behind them and closed the door.
Bill wasted no time, "What can you tell me about the circumstances of your complaint, Mr. Trombone."
"Well, let me see," Johnny said, opening his file cabinet and retrieving a file folder marked 'Insurance Claims'. "It should be in here," he explained, laying the file on his desk and opening it.
Bill leaned forward to get a good look at the papers in the folder.
"Ah, here it is, right on top," Johnny said. "Oh yes, I remember this one. It was a broken window … Room 714. That's the 7th floor at the South side of the hotel."
"So, you think it was vandalism. Some kids in the neighborhood tossing rocks at windows?" Bill asked.
"No, this was definitely not damage from rocks," Johnny replied, hesitantly.
"How can you be so sure?" Tony asked.
"Well, for starters, we have two eye-witnesses," Johnny replied, handing Bill a sheet of paper he removed from the folder. "This is the statement they gave us for the police."
Bill took a look at the paper. His blood nearly ran cold as the words 'flying man' and 'red suit with black cape' jumped off the paper at him. It couldn't possibly be Ralph, could it? he wondered.
Tony read the neatly written words from the paper aloud "We were relaxing in the bedroom when a flying man wearing a red suit with black cape came crashing through the hotel room's window. He crashed in through the window and walked out the door. He was about 5'11 with blonde curly hair, average build. He was dressed like Superman."
Bill swallowed hard. "This sounds kinda crazy don't you think?" he asked Johnny.
"I thought so too. It didn't help with our filing the insurance claim. They refused to honor the testimony of 'inebriated' persons. Eventually they did pay the claim though," Johnny answered. "I thought the case was closed, why are you following it up now?" Johnny inquired.
"Inebriated?" Bill asked, ignoring the latter question.
"All I know is that the couple was on their honeymoon. They had just left their wedding reception in our banquet hall where several of their guests were … lets say 'filled with the spirits'. I can't say how snookered they were and what really happened, but a 'flying man in a red suit' crashing into your hotel room through the window is about as close to seeing 'pink elephants' and 'green men' as you get, don't you think?"
"How do you think the window was broken?" Tony asked.
"Let's say that these young enthusiastic newlyweds can get a bit too wild in their games. I see hotel room damage from time to time; broken chair legs, collapsed bed canopies and the like. I think this is a case of a drunken couple not accepting responsibility for their carelessness. The only reason this report was filed is because the groom happened to be the Police Chief's eldest son. In respect for the Chief, we deferred to his wishes and filed the complaint as 'vandalism'."
"I think we're through here, Tony. Thank you for your time, Mr. Trombone," Bill said, nodding his head.
"This is a total and complete waste of time," Bill groused.
"I don't know Maxwell, there seems to be a common thread to these cases," Tony argued.
"I hope you don't mean the flying superman in the red suit, Villicana!" Bill answered, sardonically.
"Seriously, we've investigated four separate cases and in each of the four instances there is testimony of someone in red causing damage and running off," Tony explained. "That can't be coincidence."
"Listen to yourself, Villicana, are you honestly telling me you believe in Superman? I suppose you believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy also? This is what I get for working with a 'boot'."
"A 'boot'." Tony repeated.
"Yes, a 'boot'! A 'boot' is a soldier just out of boot camp, inexperienced, untested," Bill explained.
Tony remained silent.
"Think about it, with all the people who see pink elephants, do you really think there are any? These cases are lumped together because they appear to have certain similarities, but as an experienced agent with 98 success rate, I can tell you that it doesn't work that way. You gotta know when to recognize a boondoggle when you see one."
"Boondoggle?" Tony asked, looking puzzled.
"Boondoggle refers to any military operation that hasn't been completely thought out; an operation that is absurd or useless," Bill replied. "Don't they teach anything at the Academy anymore?"
"Not Greek!" Tony shot back.
"Greek? I'll have you know that these words are commonly used Military terms, Villicana," Bill replied.
"Okay Chief. What's the term for burger?" Tony asked, teasing.
"Chop chop," Bill answered.
"Is that for a double burger?" Tony asked, joking.
"Very funny; you have to always play the comedian, don't ya, Villicana?"
Chapter Twelve
Ralph arrived home from school to see Kevin spread out comfortably on the couch, talking on the phone.
"Hi Kev," Ralph called to Kevin as he walked in the door. "Wanna hang up that phone and give me a hand?" Ralph asked, indicating the over-flowing grocery bags he was carrying.
"Uh, I gotta go, my dad's home," Kevin said into the phone before hanging up.
"There are two more bags in the car," Ralph commented, removing bottles of soda from one of the shopping bags.
Kevin disappeared out the front door to retrieve the rest of the groceries.
"Hi Hon," Pam said, greeting Ralph with a smile and a quick kiss.
"Hi Pam, I see you got your car back from the mechanic. That was quick," Ralph answered.
"Yes, they are very anxious to please," Pam said, wrapping her arms around Ralph and snuggling her face into his neck.
"It is wise to keep the paying client happy; especially if she is a beautiful attorney with lots of return business," Ralph answered, dropping the bag of chips he was holding onto the counter and pulling her closer.
"Ah-hem," Kevin coughed, making his presence known. "I think I'll go hang out in my room for a while," Kevin said, excusing himself.
"Smart boy," Ralph whispered into Pam's ear.
"Takes after his father," Pam murmured back, as they locked into a deep kiss.
Just then the phone rang, interrupting their private moment.
"Hello?" Ralph said into the phone.
Pam slipped from his grasp and began emptying the grocery bags, while Ralph chatted on the phone.
"Yes, I'm sure next week would be a much more convenient time for the parents as well. Thanks for call, Irene," Ralph said, before hanging up.
"What did she want?" Pam asked, curiously.
"She is calling parents to let them know that the Freshman's Halloween Costume Contest tomorrow night has been postponed until next Saturday," Ralph explained.
"Why is it being postponed?"
"Apparently there aren't enough adult volunteers to help supervise the activity. Everyone is going to the big game tomorrow night. The committee feels that there would be a better turn out next week. That is probably true. I think there will be more parents available to help."
"What time are we scheduled to go next week?" Pam asked, knowingly.
"They want us there at 5:00 pm to help set up," Ralph smiled. "You know me so well, don't you?" he asked, taking her in his arms again.
"There is one thing I don't know," Pam said, smiling, "And that it why Kevin is here?"
"Oh, Pam, I'm so sorry! I meant to call you. I DID really, but I got caught in Vice Principal Kramer's office and …"
"Ralph, you're rambling again," Pam said sweetly.
"It's just that I got this message from Alicia this morning and it seems that Frank is in the hospital; he may not make it through the night."
"That's awful!" Pam exclaimed, "Jeanie must be beside herself!"
"Yes, I imagine she is. They've been expecting this for some time, but when it actually happens, well, it's still rough. Alicia is with her now and is going to stay there to help out. I'm not sure when she'll be back, but it looks like at least a week, maybe two. Is that okay with you?"
"Listen Ralph, anytime Kevin wants to stay with us it's perfectly okay. I consider it his home too. You know, Ralph, I think having kids around makes a house a home. Don't you think?"
"I'm so glad you feel that way because there is something else I haven't had a chance to tell you yet."
"What's that?" Pam asked, curiously.
"I told Kevin he could have a few of his friends over tonight while we're out. You know, he was supposed to have his friends over Alicia's tonight for his birthday," Ralph explained.
"I don't know Ralph, do you think that is a good idea? It's one thing leaving a fourteen year old boy alone in the house for an hour or so, but a gang of them?"
"Oh no, it is only going to be him with 5 other kids, and he IS fifteen now," Ralph added. Did he really say that! Now he was beginning to sound like Kevin!
"Well, I suppose it would be okay then, if you think so. He is a responsible young man and I do trust your judgment Ralph," Pam answered.
"Hey, what's the plan for dinner?" Kevin shouted from his room. "Any chance for some pizza?"
Pam and Ralph looked at each other laughing.
"I'll have some pizzas delivered for him. I'm sure his friends can help him finish them off," Pam suggested, picking up the telephone.
Chapter Thirteen
"Okay, Kevin, we should be back around 10:00 tonight. If you need us you can reach us at Bernoulli's Bistro; the number is on the fridge. Mrs. Jensen is home next door if you need her…" Ralph instructed.
"Ok-ok, Dad! This is embarrassing!" Kevin responded, gritting his teeth. Why does he have to do this in front of the guys! "Don't worry. Everything will be fine. Go already!" he urged.
"Come on, Ralph. They won't hold the reservations forever," Pam added, with a wink to Kevin.
"Thanks, Pam," Kevin said, as he closed and locked the door behind them.
"Hey Kev, want me to put the movie in now?" Jim suggested.
"Sure! I'll be right in, I'm gonna get another bottle of soda from the fridge," Kevin answered.
Kevin disappeared into the kitchen.
"Nice going Kingsman!" Kevin heard one of his friends say.
"What's going on?" Kevin asked, returning to the living room carrying a bottle of root beer.
His friends were huddled around the VCR.
"Stop hassling me!" Jim said, angrily shoving Joel aside.
"Don't push me!" Joel shoved back.
"Hey guys, cut it out!" Kevin warned. "What's the problem?" he asked, putting the soda down and moving closer.
"Kingsman busted your VCR!" Joel complained.
"Did not!" Jim said, defensively. "It's just a little stuck. All I need is something to give it a push."
"Let me see," Kevin said. He pushed the eject button, trying to pop the tape out, without success. He pushed his finger in the opening trying to force the tape in further, but it refused to move.
"I think it's in crooked," Scott suggested. "We need something thin to slide along the side so it will go back on track. Got a letter opener or ruler or something? he asked, looking around the room.
"There's your dad's brief case," Joel suggested, "He's gotta have a ruler or something in there! Throw it here, John!"
"Uh, my dad doesn't like me going through his things," Kevin objected.
"What are you talking about? We're just looking for a ruler," Joel argued, ignoring Kevin and unzipping the brief case.
"Give me that!" Kevin insisted, snatching the brief case of out Joel's hand.
Joel grabbed it back and tossed it to Scott, "Here catch!" he shouted.
"Come on guys, quit fooling around!" Kevin ordered.
"What… is… this?" Scott said, staring at the piece of red fabric hanging out of Ralph's brief case.
Joel reached over and pulled. All six boys stared at the red superhero suit that spilled out onto the floor.
"Cool!" Scott exclaimed, picking up the suit and showing the others. "What a radical costume!"
"Look! There's shoes and a cape too!" Joel said, removing them from the brief case. "Your dad must have picked them up for you to wear at the contest tomorrow night!"
"No way. I'm not even going; we're going to the baseball game tomorrow!" Kevin answered.
"I heard the contest was postponed until next week, Kev," Jim argued.
"Yeah, Mrs. Johnson called our mom this afternoon about it. Something about not enough parental help because of the base ball game this weekend," John added.
Scott rolled his eyes, "Yeah, my dad says Mrs. Johnson calls every month asking him to attend the PTA meetings. He isn't too happy about it because he works late."
"Why don't you try it on?" Joel suggested.
"I don't know…" Kevin said doubtfully. "I think I should wait for my dad to give it to me."
Chapter Fourteen
"Good evening, welcome to Bernoulli's Bistro. Is this your first visit with us?" a short, dark-haired, Italian looking gentleman asked.
"Yes, it is," Ralph answered, politely. "I have dinner reservations for two under the name Hinkley."
"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Joseph Bernoulli, the owner of this fine restaurant. I am honored to have you both dining here this evening," he said, searching the reservation list for Ralph's name.
"Ah, here it is. Would you prefer a table by the fireside or one on the patio by the lake?" he asked.
"Oh, Ralph, I'd love to sit on the patio," Pam suggested.
"Very well, a lovely night to dine by the stars," Mr. Bernoulli answered, leading them to a private table at the far end of the patio.
"Allow me," he said, holding Pam's chair for her.
"Thank you, Mr. Bernoulli," Pam said, appreciatively. "What a lovely restaurant."
"Thank you for the compliment, ma'am. You are very kind. Would you care for a glass of wine before dinner? We have an excellent red dinner wine I would highly recommend," he offered.
"I'd prefer something non-alcoholic, if you don't mind," Pam replied.
Ralph looked surprised. "You love red wine, Pam."
"I'd like a diet soda, please," Pam responded, smiling sweetly.
"I'll have a regular soda, please," Ralph ordered.
"Very well," Mr. Bernoulli answered before departing.
"Oh, Ralph, this is so romantic!" she whispered.
Pam leaned back in her chair and sighed. This place is perfect, she thought to herself. I couldn't have picked a better place to give Ralph the good news.
Ralph seemed relaxed, Pam noted. He looked around smiling and returned his attention to her.
"You look especially lovely tonight, Pam," Ralph said reaching across the table and taking hold of her hands. "You've been so wonderful about everything all this time. I mean with Kevin, the suit and the school. I know it must seem like you take the back seat to other people in my life, but I want you to know that that isn't how I feel. I love you so much Pam. Thank you so much for putting up with me and the crazy stuff that comes with me."
Ralph leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips.
Mr. Bernoulli showed up with the drinks as they pulled apart.
"Excuse me," he said, placing the sodas on the table in front of them.
"Thank you," they both said in unison.
"I'll leave these with you to look over," Mr. Bernoulli said, handing them the restaurant menus.
"Thank you, Mr. Bernoulli," Ralph repeated.
Pam sighed. It was relaxing here, away from it all. This would be the perfect time to tell him, she thought.
"Ralph, now that we're alone, there is something I'd like to speak with you about," Pam began.
"What is it Pam?" Ralph asked, smiling contentedly. He reached for his soda and took a sip.
"There you are!" interrupted Bill, rushing hastily toward Ralph and Pam.
Pam and Ralph watched Bill grab an empty chair from another table and drag it over to their table.
"Bill, what are you doing here?" Ralph asked, annoyed.
"Sorry to intrude on your private evening, but we've got big trouble Ralph," Bill continued, ignoring the nasty looks he was getting.
"The key word is 'private' Bill. This is supposed to be a private dinner for two. Get it?" Ralph repeated.
"Ralph, you're not listening…" Bill insisted.
"No, Bill, YOU are not listening. There can't possibly be anything that important that can't wait until tomorrow morning Bill," Ralph argued.
"Ralph, my meeting with Carlisle was a bust! Not only didn't he promote me, but he assigned me a new 'boot' to train," Bill complained.
"Bill." Ralph said flatly.
"Ralph, the kid is Villicana!" Bill insisted.
"Tony Villicana? That's great Bill! Did you hear that Pam? Tony Villicana made the FBI? I knew he'd make something of himself some day," Ralph said excitedly.
"No, it isn't 'great' Ralph!" Bill argued.
Pam sat there silently, knowing anything she said would only prolong Bill's interruption.
"Excuse me, will your guest be joining you?" Mr. Bernoulli asked, having showed up again.
"NO!" Ralph and Pam shouted in unison.
Bill looked surprised.
"Would you like a few more minutes?" Mr. Bernoulli inquired.
"Yes, please," Bill answered, annoyed at Mr. Bernoulli's interruption.
Mr. Bernoulli shot Bill nasty looks as he left their table.
"Carlisle assigned us to a case, Ralph. The case is a composite of 'vandalism' incidents," Bill explained.
"Sounds good to me, Bill. I think it's the perfect kind of thing to get a new agent's feet wet, don't you? Honestly Bill, not everything has to be about espionage!" Ralph argued.
"Ralph, you're not listening," Bill stated flatly.
"Why do you always say that!" Ralph fumed.
"Because it's true Ralph. Now just shut up and listen," Bill insisted.
"There's no need to be rude, Bill," Ralph shot back.
"Counselor?" Bill looked Pam's way for support.
"Bill, would you please get to the point? Maybe Ralph would listen if you didn't drag things out so much?" Pam replied, wishing Bill would just go away already.
Bill took a deep breath. "Listen, both of you. The case that Carlisle assigned us is a vandalism case. Specifically vandalism incidents that Carlisle thinks are related. Vandalism being caused by one lone offender. The descriptions that are coming up in each of these cases are include a 'flying man dressed in a red suit'! Need I be any clearer?"
"Oh my gosh, Bill," Ralph exclaimed.
"What kind of 'vandalism' are we talking here, Bill?" Pam asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Broken windows, bent antennas, downed clothes lines, busted roofs, crashed walls, and so on and so forth," Bill answered evenly. "Sound familiar, Ralph?" he asked.
"I didn't mean to do those things. My flying hasn't been quite right since I started; you know that Bill," Ralph answered.
"I know that and you know that, but apparently the police don't care and the FBI is now investigating this rash of vandalism that continues to occur," Bill responded.
"What are we going to do, Bill? I can't very well come forward and explain," Ralph reasoned.
"Listen, I'm trying to get the case thrown out. I think I've convinced Villicana that these incidents are not related. I explained to him that they're just bogus reports by a bunch of drunk, wacky, deluded people looking for attention or to send the department on a wild goose chase."
"Okay Bill, that sounds good. Keep me posted. Now will you get out of here?" Ralph insisted.
"Sure, Ralph," Bill answered snatching a bread stick from the basket on their table and biting into it. "You know, this isn't half bad," he added.
"Anything is better than those dog treats you've been eating!" Pam replied.
Chapter Fifteen
"You still here, Villicana? You don't have to burn the mid-night oil on the first day, ya know," Agent Roth said, from across the room.
"Ha! Thanks Roth. Just checking a few loose ends here, then I'll be heading out. I just don't like leaving things hanging over the weekend," Tony answered back.
"It'll be there on Monday," Roth shot back, "Why don't you give it a rest and begin fresh on Monday?" he suggested.
"I suppose your right," Tony agreed. "I'm just gonna put these files away before I head out. You go ahead, okay? Have a great weekend!" he called.
"You too! Nice to have you aboard!" Roth responded before disappearing behind the closed door.
"Hmm, here's an earlier incident from before Carlisle was in charge. He reports that a man dressed in a red, super-hero suit with black cape burst into the department demanding a case file. Carlisle shot the man and the bullet bounced off the offender's chest. Carlisle was treated for stress and given time-off." It nearly cost him his job, Tony realized. Something happened, but what?
There are too many instances of this man in the red suit. Some of these descriptions are so detailed and so similar that they cannot be imagined, Tony reasoned. Carlisle's description is one of the most detailed, 'the man had blonde curly hair, blue eyes, light complexion, his height was about 5'11, non-threatening…'
Why would a man break into the FBI to steal a file? Why go to all the trouble to wear a costume that would so obviously stand out? Wouldn't it be more reasonable to sneak into the building blending in, without causing any damage or attention to himself?
Perhaps, the criminal meant to stand out so as to appear so absurd that no one would believe the report of his crime? And perhaps the damage was intentional or even the motive for the break-in? It certainly would make the FBI look ridiculous to have a costumed amateur break into their offices, cause damage and steal a confidential file.
Yes, Tony suspected he was onto something and he wasn't about to give up. He was going to prove to Maxwell that he wasn't such a green recruit after all.