http://garyfouse.blogspot.com/2012/11/who-killed-susan-rice.html (Ch 1)
http://garyfouse.blogspot.com/2012/12/who-killed-susan-rice-cont.html (Ch 2)
http://garyfouse.blogspot.com/2012/12/who-killed-susan-rice-ch-3.html (Ch 3)
As the Orient Express continues its (winding) journey to Paris, Justice Department sleuth Dick Holder finds himself seated alone in the train's bar. It is past midnight and he has had a few too many highballs as he tries to make sense of all he has learned about the murder of Susan Rice. Earlier, he had been given shocking information from Agent McClain of the ARB (Accountability Review Board).
Who were these "Evangelical Zionists, anyway? He had looked in his dictionary as well as the train's library encyclopedia, but could find nothing on them. Who were they? What had happened to Victoria, Snapper, and Morelli? When were they going to be able to talk to Harriet Clanton?
When were they ever going to get to Paris?
"Bartender,"
"Oui, Monsieur?"
"Gimme another drink."
"Oui, Monsieur."
As Dick Holder was reaching into his pocket for a few more Euros, he looked over at a corner table near the door. What he saw shocked him to his core.
There sitting at the table and chatting away were Victoria, Snapper, and Morelli.
Tossing down his drink in one gulp, Dick Holder got up and staggered from the bar. He proceeded down the corridor straight to Agent McClain's compartment.
"Open up!" he shouted as he banged on the door.
"What the Hell is going on?" said McClain as he opened the door with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
"Come quick! I just saw Victoria, Snapper, and Morelli sitting in the bar!"
McClain shrugged, snuffed out his Gauloises, and answered, "I think you've had one too many."
"No, no. They're there. Come on. I'll show you."
Putting on his black leather overcoat, McClain followed Dick Holder back to the bar. Upon entering, Dick Holder anxiously pointed to the corner table.
But there was nobody there.
"So where are they?" asked McClain with a smirk on his face.
"They were here just a minute ago, I tell you."
Just as McClain was turning to go back to his compartment, Dick Holder turned to the bartender.
"You saw them, didn't you?"
"Saw who, Monsieur?"
"The three people who were sitting here."
"No, Monsieur. You were the only one here for the last hour."
Shaking his head, Dick Holder sat down at a table by the window. Dawn was breaking.
"I don't get it. I coulda sworn I saw them."
Agent McClain sat down without saying a word. After a couple of minutes, he finally said,
"You're taking this a bit too seriously, Dick."
"I know," answered Holder gazing out the window. "But I keep thinking of poor Susan Rice, dead with that knife sticking in her back. She was going places. Now she's dead."
"Don't worry, said McClain. There's plenty more where she came from."
Suddenly, Dick Holder pointed out the window at a passing sign. "Look!"
"Where the hell are we??" yelled Dick Holder. "We're not going to Paris. We're almost in England!"
"Relax," said McClain lighting another Gauloises. "We're taking the scenic route. We'll be there soon."
"But when? When?"
"In time."
"And when are we gonna interview Harriet Clanton?" asked Dick Holder.
"In time. In time."
Dick Holder took a deep breath and looked out the window. He could see the English Channel appearing on the horizon.
"I don't get it," he said. "No Harriet Clanton. Victoria, Snapper, Morelli. First they're dead, then I see them, then I don't."
"Did I say they were dead?" interrupted McClain.
".....Evangelical Zionists, some strange pastor out in Pasadena, a video. Now here we are almost out of France. "None of this damn story makes any sense, you know."
McClain stared back at Dick Holder.
"I know. I know."
To be continued..........
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