The Deadly Puzzle

Prologue

PROLOGUE

His front door burst open. Max Manchester, an All-Pro Miami Dolphin linebacker, looked up from the football game on ESPN. He got to his feet as three men entered. Two of them were huge, with tattoos covering their budging arms, maybe professional wrestlers. A short, balding, gaudily dressed man in his mid-fifties followed behind, maybe a gangster.

“Who the f**k, are you?” Max shouted.

The over-sized muscle-bound men clashed with Max in a vicious fight. Everything in the living room became smashed or overturned. Throughout the melee, the short, stocky man stood and calmly watched. After a couple of minutes, the man realized his goons weren’t going to subdue the football player.

He struck Max on the back of his head with a Glock 19. Dazed, Max fell to his knees. Through glassy eyes, he looked at the short man and passed out.

Max Manchester coughed as he regained consciousness. Slowly he opened his eyes and spat red liquid on the floor. The intruders looked down at him lying on his back, spread-eagle on his king-size bed. Max struggled to move his arms and legs, but couldn’t. They’d tied him to the bedposts.

“What the f**k do you bastards you want?” He coughed and spat bloody phlegm at the short man standing near his head.

Stepping out of the way, he cuffed Max’s face with the Glock. Max winced and groaned.

“Max, while in college, you were a badass to my nephew, Jeffery, Dr. Rhineman’s son.”

Max glared at him. “You’re beating the s**t out of me because of that queer asshole? Christ, that was years ago!”

“No, it’s not about him. My late brother, Dr. Frederick Rhineman, who hated you, mailed you a small piece of red paper. It’s part of a puzzle.

Max sneered. “He was an asshole too.”

“I agree with you on that.” He chuckled as he lit a cigar. “Okay, enough of this small talk. Where’s the piece of red paper?”

Max yelled, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

The short man nodded, and a goon punched Max in the face. More blood poured from Max’s nose. He remained silent.

The other goon came out from the kitchen carrying a butcher knife and a broom handle. He handed the short man the blade, then whacked Max across the chest with the broom handle. Max’s body heaved, he cried out in agony.

“Max, I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Benny Rhineman, the late doctor’s twin brother,” said the short man. He took a puff on his cigar and blew the smoke at Max.

Max looked up at Benny Rhineman and forced a sour grin. “You got to be shitting me. You’re an ugly runt, compared to Dr. Rhineman.”

The goon brought the broom handle down across Max’s shins.

Max gritted his teeth against the pain. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Benny removed the cigar and pressed the hot ashes against Max’s ankle. He grinned at the smell of burning flesh.

Max groaned, “You bastard.”

“We can continue this, Max. Where’s the piece of red paper? I know you got a letter from my brother.

Max remained silent.

As the broom handle slammed between Max’s legs, he let out a gurgling scream and coughed blood into the air.

Nothing’s said as Max lay moaning.

“Max, you can’t win. You won’t come out of this alive unless you tell me where you hid the piece of red paper.”

Max fiercely tugged at the ropes that tied him to the bedposts.

Benny handed the sharp blade to his man standing at the head of the bed.

“Max, my man can cut you free if that’s what you want.” Benny smiled and pointed to Max’s arm.

The big man ripped the blade across Max’s arm. Blood oozed from a vein.

“Jesus Christ! What are you doing, you asshole?” screamed Max.

“He’s cutting your arm off; you want to be free from the rope, don’t you?” Benny loudly laughed.

“You bastard, you’re insane!”

The broom handle came down hard on Max’s face, hitting his already broken nose. Blood squirted into the air. Max shrieked.

He looked at Benny, “You Mother fucker.”

“Max, your football career ends if we cut off your arm. Tell me where the piece of paper is, and we’ll leave.”

Max doesn’t answer.

Benny shook his head and nodded to the man with the knife. He jabbed the blade deeper into Max’s arm.

Max cries out. “Okay! Okay, no more!”

He looked at the white fan above his bed. “It’s taped to a fan blade.”

The goon with the broom handle climbed onto the bed, retrieved the piece of red paper, and handed it to Benny.

Benny examined it.

“You coulda saved yourself a lot of pain, Max.”

He put the piece of paper in his pocket and looked down at Max.

“You’re right Max; all of us Rhineman’s are assholes.” He leveled the Glock at Max’s forehead and fired.