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Novelo Rectangle

For the next week, Jack and Elaine continued to work, but tended to watch me warily.My publisher, Dan Coleman called me late one afternoon as I started frying chicken for dinner.	“What the hell is wrong with you?” He demands by way of greeting.	“What? Is there a problem? I sent the anthology last week.”	“Yeah, I got it. I hope this is some sick joke.”	“What are you talking about? Don’t you like the stories?”	“WHAT! You can’t expect me to believe that you actually intend for me to publish this trash.”	“Hey, now wait just a damned minute. I worked my tail off for weeks getting you those fifteen stories in time for the fall releases.” I reply indignantly.	“Oh. God. You are serious. Are you trying to get us all thrown into prison? I know you like to dabble in different genres, but I never expected you to leap into this kind of trash.”With a sinking feeling, I remembered Bob and his threat. Is it possible that he replaced my stories with something else after I had gone to bed? Nah. That would take way too much work, and they don’t type.	“Uh, listen Dan, there must be some mistake. What stories are you talking about?”	“You know very well what stories you imbecile! I mean this pornographic sewage. We are a respectable publishing house. Some of this garbage would not only get us shut down, but lengthy prison terms! The one entitled, ‘Kindergarten Kinks’ is especially detestable. I mean Jesus! Rape and murder of kids is bad enough, but necrophilia too? What the hell were you thinking?”	“Oh, my God. No…you have to believe me. I didn’t write anything even remotely like that. I wouldn’t!” Vaguely, I heard Elaine mutter, “I told you so.”	“I don’t know what game you are playing here, John, but I expected much better from you!” Dan raged.	“I know. Look, I don’t know what happened. I can’t explain it, but please believe me. I’ll email the real stories to you right now, and overnight new hard copies. You’ll see. I didn’t write that other stuff.”For a long moment, Dan didn’t say anything. I feared the worst. After an interminable silence, he says, “Fine, but if you ever pull a stunt like this again, you’re finished. I’ll make sure no publishing house will ever touch your work again. I’ll shred this manure and watch for your email.”	“Thank you. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.” I reply, but Dan had already hung up.&nbsp;	I plopped into my desk chair, shaking and trying to figure out what happened. Every probable scenario seemed more far-fetched than the last. I forgot about the chicken frying until the smoke alarm shrilled and I fell out of the chair. The smell of burned meat permeated the house.	After putting out the small fire and opening all the windows, I looked inside the condo. I found Elaine hard at work, but Jack just sat staring into the fireplace, a forgotten cigarette hanging from his fingers. I watched the two-inch-long ash fall to the floor, soon followed by the butt.	“Jack. What’s going on?” I told him about my call from Dan.	“Bob. That’s what happened. We tried to warn you.”	“Okay, I’m sorry. What can I do to fix this? I don’t even know what made Bob so angry.”Elaine put aside her yellow pad and stared at me for a moment before replying, “It isn’t for us to tell you how you wronged Bob. That’s up to Bob. You should’ve been nicer and just asked him what the problem was.”	“Why can’t you just tell me? And why should I have been nicer…he sure wasn’t. If he had a problem, he should’ve just said so. You three are always telling me what you want and leaving lists for me to fill.”	“That’s different. Our contract forbids us to tell you what is Bob’s right to. Eventually, maybe he’ll tell you himself. Or you may even figure it out. Until then, we cannot help you. All we can do is continue working, and hope for the best. I must be honest though, we don’t think you have much of a chance against Bob.”	“I don’t get it. War with him is not what I want. I see now that I was wrong to assume that he was just a harmless product of my imagination. How can I make up with him and stop him from ruining my life?”	Elaine looked up at me with such pity; as if looking at a man taking his last steps towards the gas chamber. “You can’t. What’s done is done. As we told you before, Bob is no longer bound by any contracts or laws. He will only stop if he chooses. You can’t even contact him; none of us can. Your only hope is to try anticipating his moves and outsmart him.” The way she said it, though, told me she didn’t have much faith in me.&nbsp;	“What’s with Jack? Is he mad too?”	“No. He’s upset about this; his loyalties are divided now and can’t decide what to do about it. Give him time.”I kinda felt bad for Jack but didn’t know how to help him; I couldn’t even figure out what I was going to do about this situation.&nbsp;	The doorbell rang, and I left them, hoping Angie had come by. Ha! I’m not that lucky; I didn’t realize it, but my life had just gotten a lot more complicated.&nbsp;	I opened the door, and a shiver fled down my spine as I looked at the officers on my porch.The tall blond one looked stern and his hand hovered near the large 9mm on his hip. The other man was shorter, but more muscular. For some reason, the old TV show “Chips” came to mind.	“Mr. Baxter?” The blonde asked.The darker-haired officer peered around me and lifted his hand to the gun riding his hip.	“Yes. How can I help you?” My heart nearly hammered out of my chest as I thought of the myriad reasons for cops at my door. Had Angie had an accident?	“May we come in? We need to speak to you about a problem with one of your neighbors.”Relief swept through me as his words sunk in. Not Angie then. Good.	“Sure, come on in. Please excuse the smell; I just burned chicken, and the house hasn’t aired out yet.” I chuckled, but they didn’t.	“We have a complaint that states you’ve been harassing a young neighbor of yours. Would you care to explain that?” The Blonde asked.	“Huh?” His words didn’t penetrate at first. “Harassment? What neighbor?”The cops looked at each other, and the shorter one took out a notebook and glanced at the top page.	“A Miss Blake. Down the street. She claims that you often leer at her as she walks her son to school and back. That a few times, she thinks she’s seen you peering in her windows at night.”	“That’s crazy! I don’t…wait, are you talking about the new divorcee down the street? Red head?”	“Yes sir. Do you admit to acting threateningly towards her then?”	“No way! I’m a writer, and sometimes I stare out the window of my den when I’m thinking. I haven’t even met her. Why would I harass her?”The cops share a look again, and the blonde asks, “That’s what we’d like to know. If you haven’t met her, sir…then how would you know her marital status?”	“Well, I assumed…I mean, she moved in with a kid, but no man… and I think I heard one guy at my gym say she’s divorced."	“You say you are a writer?”	“Yes. In fact, I’ve just finished a sci-fi anthology.” The jackhammer started again in my chest as I remembered Bob and my manuscripts. Uh-oh, this didn’t feel good.	“I see. Do you mind if we take a look at your office?”	“What for?”	“We have obscene letters that Miss Blake claims you sent her. They claim there are stories with her as the main character. Stories involving her son. If we could take a quick look, maybe we can clear this up.”	“That’s nuts! I haven’t written anything of the sort. Look all you want; you’ll see I’m innocent.”	“Very well. Lead the way.”&nbsp;	I led them into my den and opened the folder of my latest work…only to find it all gone. Instead, I found scores of strange titles I knew I had never written. Among them were names like “Anarchy for America” and “Child Custody—What It Truly Means.” I couldn’t believe it; Bob had somehow set me up. I tried to close and delete the folder, but the cops were faster.	One of them grabbed me by the collar of my sweatshirt and yanked me out of the chair onto the floor. He slammed his knee into my back and wrenched my arms behind me. I felt cold metal slap against my wrists as the other cop began to read me my Miranda rights.	“John Baxter, you are under arrest for…” He began, but a crash from the front of the house stopped him. I tried to look up, but someone slammed my face back down. I glimpsed several black-clad legs and heavy boots before my nose smashed into the deep blue carpeting.	Someone rolled me over and yanked me to a sitting position. I screamed in pain and confusion, and someone called for an ambulance.Through my watering eyes, I saw many men crowded around me. Most had rifles pointed at my head and chest.	“What the hell…?” I choked.	“Mr. Baxter, I am Agent Murray of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You are under arrest for the assassination plot against President Bush under penal code section….”	I didn’t hear the rest. I heard Bob laughing his detestable head off. I heard Elaine crying and Jack muttering, “Shouldn’ta done it, just shouldn’ta.”&nbsp;

Musing Muses

Euphrates26

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Anita (A.M.Carlisle)

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