Political Agenda

Chapter One

As a private investigator, I've had strange cases that come and go. I've had to find missing cats or misplaced money. In other words, nothing like those private eyes on TV.

Of course, being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I would rather have cases like that. I wouldn't want to have cases like Mike Hammer. The last thing I want to do is sleep with different women.

Anyway, I hoped I was going to have some time off cases like that, since I was spending time at the bowling alley with my best friend, Police Captain Nick Carpenter. He just bowled three strikes in a row. Being in good, physical shape, it shouldn't surprise me.

Nick is not like Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he is in good shape. He's not a male model, but he looks good. He's a married guy with three kids, two daughters in high school, and one in college.

His wife currently works as a greeter in one of the department stores located in the downtown area, and his high school daughters are on the track team. The one in college is currently the school's newspaper editor,

Nick smiled as he said to me, “Hey, Paul. If you can come up with three strikes, dinner is on me.”

Naturally, I didn't mind, so I smiled and said, “Okay, Nick. What happens if I don't?”

“Well, you're buying the drinks here.” We laughed as we continued bowling.

A miracle happened. I would bowl three strikes in a row.

Nick would shake his head but he wasn't upset about it. In fact, he smiled. “Paul Bradford Pennington, I can't believe you matched me.”

“Hey, Nick. You underestimate me. Now, about dinner....”

Fortunately, the Seafood Platter restaurant was just nearby the bowling alley. We sat down to eat salad, lobster tails with shrimps on a skewer, broccoli and of course, I had a soda while Nick had a beer..

“What do you do, Paul? Do you practice bowling somehow?”

“Hey, Nick, You've heard of the saying 'Practice makes perfect.' Works for me.”

“Oh, you've been practicing behind my back, eh-----”

“Come on, Nick. You've been being me at bowling for years. I finally decided I would figure out a way to beat you.”

Nick would smile. “I get it. You've always been a good sport. Now you want to try to beat me.”

“Nick, I just want to make myself look good. That's all.”

Our waiter came to our table. “Gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed your dinner. How about dessert?”

Since Nick was buying, I couldn't resist. “I'll go for the chocolate mousse.”

“Get me the strawberry cheesecake”, Nick would finally say.

The waiter smiled. “I'll get right on it.”

After I took a sip of my drink, I said to Nick, “That's good to see you're watching your weight.”

Nick was amused. “Of course. I have to watch what I eat to keep this figure. Ha ha... “

Seeing Nick's sense of humor, I jokingly asked, “Oh, did Playgirl Magazine call you to be their centerfold?”

“Oh, stop it, Paul, You know what I mean.”

Of course, I would laugh. Just then our desserts came in.

“Gentlemen, enjoy your desserts.”

Nick would slowly eat his cheesecake while I enjoyed my chocolate mousse.

“You, know, Paul, I think I should've had the mousse. But I couldn't resist the cheesecake.”

Laughing a little, I replied, “Hey, you can't go wrong with any kind of dessert. Frankly, I had cheesecake last time. So I wanted to try the chocolate mousse.”

“Hey, I'm just glad we went for the seafood dinner, especially I'm on a seafood diet.”

“Oh, you mean every time you see food you eat. I get it”

The waiter returned with the check and then, for some reason, game us a copy of the local newspaper.

“This might make you curious”.

“Why's that?” asked Nick.

The waiter cleared his throat and answered, “I'm sure you know about the two candidates for city

mayor --”

“Oh, Evansville and Boyer? One is a complete Conservative and the other is a ultra-Liberal.”

After I glanced at the paper, I'd say, “One has hair and the other is bald. One is slender and the other is portly. Decisions, decisions.....”

“If you don't mind me asking, gentlemen, who would you vote for?” asked the eager waiter.

Since I didn't really make up my mind on that, I'd humorously answered, “The Dodgers---”

“I beg your pardon.” said the confused waiter.

Nick started to laugh. “In other words, we haven't made up our minds.”

The waiter laughed. “Aha, I understand. Here's the check.”

“Okay, Nick. You promised.”

“Yeah, I know, I know”, Nick replied as he brought out his American Express card.

“Hey, Nick. Thanks for the dinner.”

“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah-----”

Once it was paid, I would leave a generous tip before we left.

As we walked out, we brought the newspaper with us.

“Paul, are you going to read that fluff?”

“Eh, why not? I need something to put me to sleep.”

“If I knew that would put you to sleep I'd ask the waiter for another copy.” he laughed.

“I find that hard to believe. You go through newspaper articles like a police report.”

“Take care, Paul.”

“All right, Nick.”

We obviously were in separate cars, so he hopped into his Buick while I went to my Toyota Camry. I was about to get in and drive off when suddenly I saw an old friend, Chuck Tillman.

Chuck was a young African-American kid, someone I helped out three years ago when he was arrested for possession of drugs, and he's been clean since then. “Mister Pennington---”

“Hey, Chuck. How are you doing?”

“Ah, I've been working as a staff member for Ronald Boyle, the candidate for mayor.”

“That''s good to hear you've been on the straight and narrow since I last saw you. What's it like to work for a mayoral candidate?”

“Well, it's great. But I have to tell you, I stumbled into something that might involve Mr. Boyle.”

“Really? What is it?”

Before he could answer, a dark brown mid-size car came very close and attempted to run over Chuck. The driver missed because Chuck ducked just in time.

We were not out of danger yet. The car came back, and the driver started to open fire. Chuck managed to duck under the line of fire, and I'd start shooting back at it.

Obviously I hit the target, That car suddenly went airborne, sideways, and ended up skidding while upside down until it hit a light pole. The car went up in flames.

A few minutes later, Nick showed up. “Paul, what happened?”

As I looked for Chuck, I told Nick, “Whoever that driver was took shots at us,”

It was then I saw Chuck. He wasn't dead, but a bullet hit his left arm.

“Chuck, we're going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, Mr. Pennington”

So I would drive him to Cambridge General Hospital. I'd take Chuck to the Emergency Room. The attendants saw that Chuck was bleeding. The nurse would tell them to bring him to treatment room seven.

While they tended to Chuck, I'd sit in the lobby area. There was a HOLY BIBLE on the table, so naturally I would pick it up and read it. I chose to read Luke 22.

The nurse came to me and asked, “Are you a friend of his?”

Naturally, I showed her my ID. “I'm Paul Pennington. I'm a private investigator. My friend is Chuck Tillman, a staff member of Ronald Boyle, the mayoral candidate.”

“Okay, Mr. Pennington. Please continue to wait here in the waiting room. Once he's patched up, he'll be coming out of the treatment room and he'll be free to go”

“Thank you, nurse.”

Nick would show up. “How's your friend?”

“Hey, Nick. Looks as if he'll be fine. Thankfully he was just shot in the right arm.”

“Well, then he's lucky. Who would want to kill him'?

“He told me he stumbled into something that might involve Boyer..”

“Really? I wonder what it is.”

After clearing my throat, I replied, “Whatever it is, I hope nothing else happens to Chuck. After all, he's been through a lot and this is his chance to become a productive person.”

We waited for nearly an hour, and then we see Chuck in a wheelchair. “Mr. Pennington, I guess I was lucky.”

Being relieved he was okay, I smiled and then I told him, “Yeah, you definitely were lucky. You can talk about Boyer later. I'll go get my car in the front, so you wait there. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” he replied with a smile.

So I walked back to my car. I didn't think that there would be any trouble. Fortunately, there wasn't. I would drive up in front to pick up Chuck. Nick was there, too, smoking a cigarette.

“Mr. Tillman, as soon as you're up to it, I want to talk to you about Boyer.”

“Of course, Captain. I'll tell you anything you want to know.”

Before we left, I turned to Nick, saying with a smile, “One of these days, you'll quit smoking.”

“Spare me your sermons, dude.” He would reply, smiling as he continued smoking.

As I drove away from the hospital, I was just about to take the freeway to take Chuck to his place, when suddenly, I noticed a green Chevrolet Cavalier following us.

“Say, Chuck. I think we're being followed..”

“Really? Nobody knows I've been to the hospital but you and Captain Carpenter.”

“Tell me, Chuck. Do you know anyone who owns a Chevrolet Cavalier?”

“I know all the cars my co-worker drive. Neither of them own a car like that.”

“Do you have your seat belts fastened?”

“Yeah, I do-----”

Before he could complete his sentence, I'd put the pedal to the metal and turned left quickly into the next intersection.

As I suspected, the green Cavalier was behind us. Naturally I did what I could to shake that car off us. It was still following us.

Just then I got lucky. There was a big rig waiting to turn left, so I drove right past him. The truck would make his turn, blocking the way of the Cavalier. The driver had to stop.

By the time the truck completed his left turn—albeit slowly--- we were long gone. I slowed down and then I drove back to drop Chuck back at his place.

Chuck lived with his elderly parents in a nice home. It was located in the suburbs. It looks like the neighborhood the Brady Bunch must've been. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but that was what I thought.

Naturally, I knocked on the door. The father, Mr. Gary Tillman, would answer. “Chuck, are you okay?”

“I'm okay, dad, for a guy who got shot in the arm.”

“Wait a minute---”

Just then, Mrs. Adela Tillman came to the door. “Chuck, what happened?”

“It's a complicated story, mom”, Chuck said as he gave her a hug.

“Please, Mr. Pennington” Mr. Tillman would say to me.”Come on in.”

“A pleasure”, I said with a smile.

We sat in the living room, as we munched on potato chips and dip, and a few sodas. I was glad that I was munching on Ruffles. After all, that was my favorite potato chips.

“Now, Chuck”, Mrs Tillman asked. “What sort of trouble are you in?”

“Well, I was just cleaning up in the campaign office when I suddenly heard Mr. Boyer on the phone. I overheard him say first. 'Why are you calling me here?' Then I overhead him say 'I paid you to do a job, now don't bother me.' After that, he stormed out of his office and then he saw me. “

Naturally, I go more curious. “Go on, Chuck.”

He would continue. “Anyway, he said, 'Oh, Chuck. Are you just cleaning up the office?' I said 'Yes, sir. I don't want to leave this place messy, you know what I mean' He paused for a moment and then he smiled, saying, 'Chuck, you realize you're the best campaign worker in my staff. I thank you for your hard work and support.' I smiled and said, 'Thank you, Mr. Boyer.”

“Son, were you the only one in the campaign office?”

“Actually, dad, there were two others. Lisa Harding and Chelsea Gonzalez. In fact, after Mr. Boyle left the area, Chelsea went to Mr. Boyle's private office to check what was the last number that called in.”

“Did she get the number?” I asked.

Reaching into his pocket, Chuck said, “It's right here, Mr. Pennington.

Glancing over it, I'd see the number was 858-473-2121.

“Lisa also wrote down the number. But we don't know who it belongs to. “

Luckily I carry a pen and pad with me. I copied the number. “Look, Mr. and Mrs. Tillman. I thank you for your hospitality. I need to go.”

“We understand, Mr. Pennington”, Mr. Tillman said . “Thank you for bringing Chuck back safe and sound.”

“A pleasure. Bye now.”

The Tillmans were nice people. They're both retired, he being a former iron worker, and she used to be a nurse. It's great to see they are enjoying retirement, because they deserve it.