Bang, You're Dead

Morgan nodded her head as she stepped down from the witness box and walked solemnly toward the exit.

The judge looked at Bob. "Mr. Sanders, you're free to go. The state has dropped the charges with prejudice. That means they can refile at a later date if they feel they have more evidence against you."

Bob knew what it meant but he knew he was innocent so the chances of them finding anything more to incriminate him wasn't going to happen. Now he had to find Troy's killer.

Paul Enroe had only been with the newspaper a couple years but had met Morgan Anderson several times at various company functions. He always thought she and his boss made a great looking couple.

Ian never talked about anything other than work related news items when he was in the office so Paul had no idea if he knew of his wife's affair or not. He really didn't want to be the one to break it to him if he didn't know. He wondered if he should say anything at all and just write the story or if he should ask Ian about leaving his wife's name out of it. He had no idea how he was going to handle the situation until he found himself standing in front of Ian's desk.

Ian lifted his head from what he was reading and looked up at the young reporter. "So, did the P.I. get off?"

"Yeah, the prosecutor really didn't have that much."

"That really doesn't surprise me. He's going to be running for mayor this year so he's trying to rack up all the convictions he can."

"I...I ah...saw Morgan there."

"Morgan?" he repeated back. "My Morgan?"

"Yeah, you...ah...you didn't know she'd be there?"

Ian sensed the nervousness in his young journalist. "What's going on, Paul?"

"You should read my notes, Ian," he said while laying his notepad on his boss' desk. "But you might want to read it in private."

Ian was staring in his young protégé's face as he pulled the notes in front of him.

Paul felt sorry for the man he respected as he watched Ian's face contort with pain. "I'm s...sorry, Ian. I can leave her name out of it. I'll just say an unnamed witness..."

"Write it like you would any other story," he barked. Ian handed the young man's notes back to him. "Have it on my desk in an hour."

Ian stuck out the day but was finding it hard to concentrate. He didn't need his experience as an investigative journalist to ask himself the common question; why? It was the same question all men ask themselves in his situation.

Morgan made the hour long drive right from the courthouse to her parents. They could tell immediately that something was wrong but never expected the events of their daughter's confession. They made it clear they were both very disappointed in her but agreed to pick the kids up at school and keep them over night. Morgan had thought ahead and already had an overnight bag with her for each of the boys.

With that taken care of, she went home and walked around in a daze while starting to prepare what she assumed would be the last meal she would ever cook for her loving husband.

When Ian walked into the house at his usual time she was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked worse than he'd ever seen her. Her hair messed up and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Under any other circumstances his heart would go out to her but the last few hours had built a wall around that heart; a wall constructed of hurt, pain, and anger.

"Why didn't you tell me yourself? Why did I have to find out from a reporter?"

"I...I tried," she wept. "So many times I tried, I...I just couldn't. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, me too," he coldly commented. "All afternoon I kept asking myself why, then it hit me, it doesn't really matter why, does it. Oh I might be curious but in the scheme of things the why doesn't mean a hill of beans. The only really important aspect is that you did it. You destroyed our marriage; you destroyed our happy family. That's all that counts, isn't it."

Morgan couldn't answer him. Her body recoiled with each sob. She'd never heard so much pain in his voice. She would give anything to take back the last two years but it wasn't going to happen. She had lost everything that was important in her life and she knew there was no way she'd ever get it back.

To ask if there was some way to salvage the marriage was a waste of breath and she knew it. Ian would never stay in a relationship where he perceived the woman didn't love him as much as he loved her, and how do you convince someone you love them after betraying them like she did.

"Where're the boys?" he asked.

She could barely talk. "A...at my parents. I asked them to keep them over night."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I don't really feel like sleeping in the same bed with you so I'll sleep in their room tonight. This weekend I'll look for someplace to stay temporarily."

She looked at him through watery eyes. "I...I thought you'd want me to leave. I'm the one who screwed up. I should be the one to go."

"You're right. If I followed what was in my heart right now I'd kick you out of here and tell you to never look back but that's not practical, is it. How I feel doesn't count. What counts are the boys. Right now their welfare is the only thing that matters. They're going to be completely devastated by this. Their lives are going to change forever and not for the better. It's going to be our job to try and keep some semblance of normalcy in their lives. I don't want to disrupt their routine any more than I have to. That means, at least for the near future, they stay here with you. They keep going to the same school and keep the same friends.

"Down the road you and I will have to sit down and make plans to keep the divorce from affecting them any more than it has to but for now it's better if I just move out."

It didn't really make any difference to Morgan who moved out. They were separating, that's all that mattered.

There was something else, too. She knew Ian. She knew he'd like nothing better than to beat the crap out of her former lover. "Ian, promise me something." She saw the look on his face. "I know, I have a lot of nerve to ask anything of you but please, just promise me you won't go after Robert."

She always did know what he was thinking. "Why--worried about lover boy?"

"Ian, he's an ex-Marine. He's a trained fighter, not to mention he carries a gun. I don't want you getting hurt. Please promise me you'll stay away from him."

"No," was his emphatic reply.

***

After just being released from jail the day before, Bob should have felt like he was on top of the world but in fact the opposite was true. When he got home there was no one there to greet him; no one with whom to celebrate his freedom. His wife and kids were gone. He tried calling her cell several times during the night but they all went to voice mail.

Marines aren't supposed to cry but the salty tracks that stained his face would verify that to be a false concept. As daylight faded into night he sat in his recliner and tried to visualize his future. It certainly didn't look like he had anticipated only a couple weeks previously. Thoughts of bouncing a horde of grandchildren on his knee while captivating them with stories of his life as a private-eye would never come to pass nor would he grow old with Cindy by his side.

Dark thoughts of a bleak and lonely future pervaded his mind as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, aided by a bottle of scotch.

He awoke the next morning with someone beating on an anvil inside his brain and the sun reflecting from the lonely walls of what used to be his happy home. He thought about simply staying there and wallowing in his grief some more but there was still the matter of Troy's murder. He wasn't going to rest until his killer was behind bars. After a shower, a piece of toast, and two cups of coffee he was finally able to start his day.

Jimmy was waiting for him in the office. He was reading the paper and didn't look happy. Bob said good morning but he didn't respond with any kind of formal cliché type greeting. "Bob, is this true; you had an affair, you cheated on Cindy?"

It wasn't what Bob was expecting. He didn't even think of his sins being displayed for everyone to see in the paper. He sighed as he replied, "Yeah, it's true."

Jimmy was hoping his boss would say it was all a mistake. Here was the man he looked up to admitting to the same immoral acts they uncovered almost daily.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I know it was stupid."

"That's why Angie's not here, isn't it. She found out."

"Yeah, she walked out on me but I can't say I blame her." He looked into the disheartened face of his last remaining coworker. "What about you? Are you going to bail on me too?"

"I don't know. I have to think about it," he said. "I won't leave before we find Troy's killer, I promise you that."

That was good news for Bob. "I appreciate that, Jimmy. It's probably better than I deserve. I've got to start going through Troy's notes on the Murphy case. I know he said it was very confusing. Did you get her stashed?"

"Yeah, she's in room two-twenty. I gave her both your cell number and mine and told her to call us if she needs anything or she sees anything suspicious."

"Good man, Jimmy; thanks. Is that fresh," he asked with a nod of his head in the direction of the coffee maker.

"Yeah, I just made it."

Bob waked over and poured himself a cup then disappeared into his office.

***

Ian was well aware of the solicitous looks he was getting from his staff but tried to ignore them. That was easier said than done. Every time he caught of glimpse of a pitying expression it just reminded him of his situation. It was almost ten when he gave up and headed for the managing editor's office.

"I got to get out of here for a couple days."

Tom Gleason had been Ian's boss in one capacity or another for several years. He knew Morgan and the boys and knew his friend and colleague had to be coming apart inside. He wasn't about to give him a hard time. "Take as long as you need, Ian, and let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Thanks, Tom."

Ian said nothing to no one in the newsroom. He quietly gathered a couple items from his desk and left the building. Tom emerged from his office and sat at Ian's desk—the same desk he had commanded when Ian was his top reporter.

Now, without anything to at least try to keep himself busy, Ian felt lost. He started for his car but where was he going to go? Not home. The last thing he needed was be around his wife.

He started to walk aimlessly toward down town. He made a left then another left then a right then...

By the time he his brain caught up with his feet he had walked close to three miles and still had no idea what to do with himself. He needed a sanctuary, someplace to sit and think. He saw the sign for Plato's Place only a block away. He'd been there once before with a coworker. It was a quiet little bar that served lunch with their drafts.

He wasn't hungry and he really wasn't much of a drinker but it was the kind of atmosphere he needed. Ian ordered a frosty one from the tap and sat in a dark booth in the corner. That's where the anger started to give way to the grief. He fought a losing battle against the tears that flooded his eyes and escaped down his face. He looked around to make sure no one saw as he wiped them away.

Again, he had to ask himself why; was it something he did or didn't do? Yeah, he told himself, I know I told her the reason didn't make any difference but it does. Oh well, he cursed under his breath, whatever the reason, it was painfully obvious to him that the love she felt for him wasn't nearly as strong as his was for her. I guess that sums it up, he thought. She simply didn't love me enough.

Over the next forty minutes he had barely made a dent in his beer. He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. As long as he was going to be off for a few days he might as well get the ball rolling. The only lawyer he knew personally was the one who set up his financial trust. He'd check with him and see if he also took on divorce cases. He also had to find a temporary place to live, but first...

Yeah, first there was something else he had to do. He'd have to stop off at the bank on the way.

It was almost one in the afternoon when Ian found himself outside the office door. As he walked in he saw a young man sitting behind a desk. There were two doors to other offices along the wall to the left.

"Can I help you?" The young man looked slightly nervous. Understandable, thought Ian.

"Is Robert Sanders here?"

Ian heard some moving around from inside the office closest to him and before the young man had a chance to ask the reason for his inquiry, his wife's former lover appeared.

Bob recognized Ian a split second before everything went black. Two dollars in nickels went flying in every direction as Ian's fist slammed into the face of his nemesis. Some of the five-cent coins bounced off the wall, others fell to the floor, some landing flat with a tapping noise while others rolled around before toppling to a stop. Several came to rest on the chest of the unconscious figure sprawled out on the old hardwood floor.

Ian anticipated retaliatory action from the young man and swung around to defend himself but Jimmy was too shocked to move. "When he wakes up tell him he can keep the change," Ian hissed with sarcastic vile.

By the time he got to his attorney's Ian's hand was swelling and turning purple. He smiled knowing that as bad as his hand looked, Sander's face was going to look worse.

"Bob," called Jimmy as he poked at his insensible boss. "Bob, wake up."

Bob started to show signs of life as he came around with a mournful groan. He propped himself up on one elbow and worked at opening his eyes. The side of his face felt like it was on fire and he had a big knot on the back of his head from the fall.

"You alright?" asked Jimmy.

"Not really," he said, squinting from the pain of moving his jaw.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that was the husband of the woman you slept with."

"That would be a good guess, Jimmy. Christ, what did he hit me with?"

"He had a roll of nickels in his hand."

"Felt more like a sludge hammer," he said, touching the side of his face.

Jimmy helped him to his feet. Bob shook his head and blinked his eyes a couple times, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain. He stumbled into the washroom and looked in the mirror. "Oh, shit," he exclaimed upon seeing the multi-colored bruise that was growing bigger. He got more bad news when he came back out of the washroom.

"Bob, I've been thinking, I'll work for you for another two weeks or until we find Troy's killer, whichever comes first."

"Okay, I hate to lose you, Jimmy, but I understand. Listen, just before I got cold-cocked I came across the adoption papers for the Murphy girl. I'm pretty sure they're phony. I'm going over to her dad's place."

"Do you think it's wise for you to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm sure it looks worse than it is."

"Hell, Bob, if it was as bad as it looks you'd be dead."

"Yeah, thanks," he chuckled on the way out the door. It was still early, too early, Fred Murphy, Andrea's dad, wasn't home from work yet. Bob parked across the street and waited. About quarter to six a blue Hyundai pulled into the drive and middle aged man with greying hair entered the house. Bob gave him a few minutes before going up and ringing the bell.

"Can I help you?"

"Mr. Murphy?"

"Depends on who's asking."

Bob handed him a business card.

The man took several moments to read the card, almost like he was trying to decide what to do. "You're the guys Andrea hired to find her biological parents."

"Yes, sir."

"What happened to your face?"

"Ah, I ran into a door," he said, trying to smile.

"Is Andrea okay? I haven't talked to her in a couple of months."

"Someone tried to kidnap her yesterday morning."

"What?" The man was visibly shaken. "Is she alright?"

"Yeah, I put her up in a safe place but you and I need to talk. May I come in?"

Murphy opened the door further and gestured for Bob to go inside. "Coffee?"

"Ah, no, no thanks."

"I knew this was going to happen. I knew it. That's why I didn't want her to go snooping. Damn, Betty, that bitch wife of mine. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut?"

"Knew what was going to happen?" Bob could see the reluctance in the guy's face. Whatever it was, Murphy really didn't want to talk about it. "Look, Mr. Murphy, my partner was killed a couple weeks ago and I'm pretty sure it had something to do with this case. Now if you won't talk to me I'll hand over what I've got to the cops and you can deal with them."

Murphy sighed. His shoulders slumped and he seemed to lose some of his bravado. "Sit down," he said, indicating a chair while he took a seat in another one. "I'm...I'm sorry about your partner. What do you want to know?"

Bob opened his briefcase and removed the official looking adoption papers. "These aren't real are they."

Murphy took one look. "No, no they're not. A...a friend of my brother's made them for me."

"Why? I don't understand."

"I...I didn't want Andrea going off in search of her real dad because..." he hesitated for moment, "because I'm her real dad."

"You're her...this doesn't make sense. Why would you have to fake the adoption of your own daughter?"

"Because Betty wasn't her real mother. I...I was having an affair. Andrea's my daughter but her mother was a woman named Julia, Julia Giovani."

"Okay," Bob was still confused. "You lost me."

"I didn't know it at the time but Julia had a boyfriend in prison while we were seeing each other. When she got pregnant she panicked and was going to abort it. I couldn't let that happen. It was my kid and Betty couldn't have kids.

"Julia said she couldn't keep the baby because her boyfriend was extremely jealous. She said he'd kill them both when he got out of prison. I made a deal with her; I'd pay all her medical bills and give her ten grand if she didn't abort it. Once the baby was born I'd take it and her boyfriend would never find out she was screwing around while he was in the slammer. Reluctantly, she agreed. That left the problem of how I was going to get Betty to accept the baby without telling her it was mine.

"I told her I wanted a family and since she couldn't conceive I wanted to adopt. I called my brother who knew a lot of people and he put me in touch with the guy who made those adoption papers for me."

"I can't believe you pulled it off," Bob interjected. "Your wife really thought you guys were dealing with the state adoption agency?"

"He had I.D. that said he was from the adoption agency and he always came to our apartment so we didn't have to worry about faking any offices or anything like that. He played his part well. He visited us several times over a period of months. He said we were on a list and he would let us know when a newborn child would become available. Of course as soon as Julia had her baby he came to the apartment and told us we had been approved and they had a newborn available. We signed the papers there in the apartment. The next day, Julia gave him the baby and he brought to us. Betty never suspected a thing."

Bob was shaking he head in disbelief. "And all this happened in Michigan? That's what it says on the papers."

"Yeah, Grand Rapids, Michigan."

"So what happened?"

"Everything was going great. Betty took to the baby and loved it like it was hers. Then one day Julia shows up at my door. She had been beaten up and was scared to death. She said her boyfriend found out about the baby and said he was going to kill her. Then he was going to find me and kill me too. She was getting out of town but stopped to warn us.

"Well, hell, Betty was right there. I had to tell her what it was all about. I think she was more afraid of what the boyfriend would do to the baby than to me. She panicked and wanted to move immediately. The company I worked for had offices in Chicago and Nashville. I asked if there were any openings in either place and they sent me here.