The Deadly Puzzle

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Jake Wayde was getting dressed in his two-bedroom, Oriental-themed apartment. The thirty-six-inch Sony television on the bedroom wall was showing pictures of a funeral.

The muscular, 220-pound, six-foot-one-inch Wayde was putting on his usual attire of tan slacks, pale blue short-sleeved Oxford cloth shirt, brown penny loafers, and no socks.

A male announcer came onto the television screen.

“The famous scientist Dr. Frederick Rhineman was buried this morning. Although evident he died of a heart attack, there’s still an air of mystery surrounding his death. Those who knew him are puzzled about his sudden death last Tuesday. It seems that during the previous week Dr. Rhineman liquidated bonds, sold stock and withdrew cash from the bank. In all, it totaled ten million dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills. The police don’t know why he wanted such a significant amount of cash or where the money is. There may be a reasonable explanation. However, with so much money unaccounted, the police are launching an investigation to find the answers. Dr. Rhineman’s estate is estimated to be about forty million dollars. The doctor was originally from Detroit, Michigan, where he amassed his fortune through patented chemical formulas and investments.

“In other news, last night in Miami, an All-Pro professional football player was murdered. Six-foot-three-inch Max Manchester, a 255-pound linebacker, was beaten and shot to death in his luxurious Key Biscayne home. At this time the police are not sure about the motive. It’s evident that Manchester put up an intense fight before his demise and his home searched. All the drawers and closets were open and their contents scattered about the floor.

When found, Manchester was tied spread-eagled on his king-size bed. From his bodily injuries, the police say he sustained a horrible beating. Manchester was known to be a tough man; his nickname on the gridiron was ‘The Mauler.’ Police are wondering how he could have been subdued and brutally beaten. Next, we have the weather with—”

Wayde turned off the television and headed out of his downtown condominium apartment when the telephone rang. He walked into the second bedroom; converted into his office. He picked up the phone. “It’s Wayde.”

“Mr. Wayde, this is Bill Kendra. While talking with a friend at our golf club the other day I told him I needed to hire a private detective. He highly recommended you. Are you available to take on a new case?”

“It depends. Yeah, I think so.”

“Are you free to come to my office?”

“Sure, when?”

“How about now? I want to get started on my problem. My office isn’t too far from you.”

“What’s your address?”

As Wayde wrote down the man’s address, he glanced idly at a small plaque on the desk “Jake Wayde, Pvt. Detective.” On the wall was a picture of Wayde and two guys in Marine uniforms. They were all sergeants.

“Okay, I’ll meet you at your office in a few minutes.” Wayde hung up.

His pet canary was chirping happily in her cage as Wayde closed the door. He walked through the spacious open-air hallway and down the one flight of gray-painted concrete stairs. It was a cloudless, sunny day in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. Wayde strolled over to the row of metal mailboxes near the front of the apartment building and inserted his key into number 207. The box was full, mostly with flyers and junk mail. He tossed the junk mail in a waste container near the mailboxes.

There were two letters, a statement from Florida Power and Light and white number ten envelope. He tore it open and removed a single sheet of white paper. A small piece of red paper cut into an odd shape fluttered to the sidewalk. Wayde started to read the letter.

“Mr. Wayde enclosed you will find a piece of red paper cut in the likeness of a puzzle piece, and that is what it is. I’ve mailed other letters like this. They all contained a red portion of the puzzle. All the red pieces inscribed with either a number or a letter of the alphabet. None of the recipients of these letters are known to one another. However, all of you have something in common. When assembled the pieces form a claim check that will give you an address. That address will lead to a place where you’ll be able to claim ten million dollars. The money’s packaged in one-hundred dollar bills. It is a small puzzle for small-minded people but should prove to be very interesting to solve.

As a bonus, there’s a copy of my latest and most crucial chemical formula. It could make the person putting the puzzle together and claiming the package one of the wealthiest people on earth. Good hunting, Mr. Wayde.

Your beneficiary,

Dr. Frederick Rhineman”

Wayde read the letter twice. He stood staring at it, tore it in half and tossed it into the waste container. He picked up the jagged piece of red paper and looked at it closely. It had the letter “e” printed on it.

Wayde unbuckled his wide leather belt. He removed the buckle decorated with a brass letter “W.” He slid the claim check portion into a small pocket opening in the belt next to his emergency fifty-dollar bill. Wayde hooked the buckle back onto his belt and fastened it.

Wayde strolled to the galvanized steel carport. He climbed into his five-year-old navy blue Mercedes SL500 convertible and set off for his meeting.

Pulling around the corner, he drove past Charlie’s Crab and Shooters Bar and Grill, under the Oakland Park Bridge, up onto Oakland Park Blvd. and headed west.

Minutes later he parked in front of a tall, white building on Federal Highway. When Wayde approached the building entrance, a broad-shouldered, muscularly-built, well-tanned man meets him. They conversed for a moment, and the man pointed to the top of the building.

They went inside, entered the elevator and rode up to the eighth floor. When the elevator door opened, Wayde found himself facing a big, stocky, tattooed man pointing a gun. The well-tanned guy shoved Wayde out of the elevator into the hallway. The two men walked him down the long hall to an unmarked door. They opened it and shoved him in.

Once inside, they pushed him up against the wall of a large, sparsely furnished room. One of the men shook him down, checking to see if he was carrying. Finding a small knife in a leather sheath around Wayde’s ankles, he laughed. He removed the knife and tossed it onto the tan-carpeted floor. Then the man took out Wayde’s wallet and searched it. He didn’t find what he was looking for and dropped it next to the knife.

The two men grabbed Wayde by the arms and steered him across the room. A short, stocky, balding man sat staring at him from the front edge of a large gray metal desk. The gaudy-looking man was wearing a colorful silk Hawaiian shirt and a loose-fitting, cheap, cream-colored suit. Clad in white-and-tan loafers, his feet swung back and forth. Wayde squinted as the man’s face bore a strong resemblance to the late Dr. Frederick Rhineman.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Wayde, seeing a ghost?” The man laughed and spread out his arms. “Welcome to my office.”

Wayde glanced around. There wasn’t much furniture in the room. However, there were all kinds of things on the walls—mostly African shields, spears and tanned big-game hides. On a table across the room, there were two stuffed animals and some small mounted animal heads.

“Looks like a zoo’s graveyard,” Wayde remarked drily.

The short man smirked, “Cool. Yeah. Cool—that’s what I’ve heard about you, Wayde. Cool. No feelings. Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe you’re talking to the wrong people. Check with the chicks—they say I’m pretty hot stuff.”

“Yeah, ladies’ man—I heard that too.” The short man crossed his legs.

Wayde stared at him.

“I’m Benny Rhineman,” he resumed after a pause. “I’m the dead doctor’s twin brother.”

Wayde looked at him questioningly, “Twin?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not quite as tall as my brother was.”

“You’re not quite anything. The best part of you must have run down your dad’s leg,” Wayde wisecracked.

“A real smart-ass, aren’t you, Wayde?”

“I call ’em as I see ’em, Shorty,” said Wayde, with a grin on his face.

Benny Rhineman’s steely blue eyes glared. “You’d better watch your mouth, Wayde. I’m the bad seed in the family.”

“Maybe it runs in the family. I didn’t think the doctor was exactly a good seed.”

“Yeah, you might be right there,” Benny snorted.

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this, Wayde, but I believe you have a small piece of red paper I need.”

Wayde looked at him and then at Benny’s two goons. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try and bullshit me, Wayde. I know you got a piece of the puzzle.”

“What puzzle?”

“I know that you and the proud doctor shared a mutual interest, and that interest pissed him off. My brother was a vengeful asshole. It makes sense that anyone he didn’t like got a letter and a little piece of red paper.” He grinned. “My gut tells me you were high on his list of people he didn’t like.”

“High on his list, what makes you think that?”

Wayde honestly didn’t know why he’d be on Dr. Rhineman’s hate list, but he’d received a letter.

“You prick, don’t try and play Mr. Innocent with me. You got a letter from my brother with a piece of the puzzle, and I want it.”

Wayde glanced over at Benny’s two men once more. “So the game begins.”

“The game?” Benny chuckled. “Well, you can call it that, but I prefer to call it a business venture.” He looked thoughtfully at Wayde.

“Besides your gut feeling, Benny, how’d you peg me so fast?”

“So fast?” he chuckled. “I guess you haven’t opened your mail for a couple of days. I checked on you over the weekend.”

“I see. It looks like I should’ve opened my mail sooner.” Wayde paused for a moment. “I suppose you have one of the other so-called ‘puzzle pieces,’ Benny?”

“That’s my business.” He stared at Wayde and snapped his fingers. “The red paper, I want it now.”

“Your guys searched me. I don’t have it.”

“It’s on you someplace. I pegged you for the kinda guy who’d keep something like that with you. We can tear your clothes apart to find it if that’s what it takes.”

Wayde glared at him. “And then what?”

“And then, Mr. Private Eye, you fly like a bird.” He gestured toward the large window behind the desk.

“Out of your office window, that’ll be rather stupid. It wouldn’t take the police long to track you down.”

Benny grinned. “I rented this office under an assumed name. I’ll never be back here.”

Wayde glanced over at the two goons. He laughed and returned his gaze to Benny Rhineman. Then, still grinning, he lunged for the wall behind him and grabbed an African spear and one of the axes hanging on the wall.

Before anyone could react, he hurled the spear at the man holding the gun. The spear buried in his chest, driving him back against the far wall, his weapon dropped from his hand.

The second guy was reaching for his gun as Wayde flipped the ax toward him. It struck him in the upper chest and neck area. He gagged, grabbed at the ax and staggered backward. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Benny stretched out across the desk on his stomach; he was opening the desk drawer and reaching for a Kel-Tec P-32 pistol. Wayde leaped across the corner of the desk, grabbing Rhineman’s arm and pulling the gun from his hand. He struck Benny over the back of the head with the pistol, stunning him. Wayde stood up and slipped the blue-finished weapon into his pocket.

“Well, it looks like we have a new dealer now,” he murmured.

He looked over at the two dead goons and down at Benny Rhineman, who is coming to. Wayde watched as the short man slowly sat up.

“So, Shorty, you’ve got a red piece of the puzzle. Well, I appreciate your looking me up—that makes one less piece I need to look for.”

Wayde stared coldly at Benny. “What was that you said about making me fly like a bird?”

Benny Rhineman was rubbing the back of his head.

“Do you have the red paper piece of the puzzle on you?” Wayde demanded.

Benny didn’t answer.

Wayde grabbed him by the shoulders. “Hey, I asked you a question!”

Benny nodded.

Wayde smiled at him. Benny turned and looked at his two dead goons.

With a frightened look, he turned back toward Wayde. “Please—all I wanted was the red piece of paper. I was gonna let you go after that.”

“Sure you were, Benny. You were going to let me go so I could come looking for you later. No, I think your brother knew the people whom he sent the letters. He knew if he made the prize large enough, it would be all or nothing with them.”

Benny sat staring at Wayde.

“I want your piece of the claim check.”

Benny reluctantly took his wallet from his coat pocket and pulled out a jagged piece of red paper. “Here it is. Take it and go. I’ll leave town. I promise,” he pleaded.

Wayde took the paper from Benny. “I’ll take your cash, too.”

Benny gave Wayde a strange look and slowly began to take the bills from his wallet.

Wayde grabbed the wallet. “I don’t have all day.”

He removed the cash. It was mostly hundred-dollar bills.

“Not bad. It looks like your business is pretty good.” He shoved the money and the piece of red paper into his pocket and handed the wallet back to Benny. The short man looked relieved as he took the wallet.

“Hey, I got plenty more cash—why don’t we work together on this deal? I know a lot about the people my brother hated.”

He waved the wallet as he talked. Another piece of red paper fluttered onto the top of the desk. They both watched as the piece of paper landed.

“What’s this?” Wayde picked up the paper, looked at it, and gave Benny a wry smile. “Holding back on me, Rhineman?”

The little man squirmed and dropped his wallet onto the desk. “No, no, I forgot about that. Honest, I forgot about it.”

“Where’d you get it?” He grabbed Benny’s coat lapel.

Benny didn’t answer.

“I asked you where—or should I ask from whom?”

“From Max Manchester,” Benny mumbled.

Wayde thought for a moment then jerked on the coat lapel. “You mean the pro-football player that was beaten and shot?”

“Yeah,” said the little man.

Wayde released him. “I take it he was on your brother’s list. Why?” Benny didn’t say anything. “Well?” He grabbed Benny’s shoulder.

“Yeah, he was on the doctor’s list,” said Benny, hesitatingly.

“And?” said Wayde, shaking his shoulder.

“In college, at the University of Miami, Max was known as a bully—and he hated queers. He used to beat up my brother’s fag son, Jeffrey. Once he went so far as to break Jeffrey’s arm.”

“So you and your goons beat Max to death for this piece of red paper?”

Benny shrugged. “Yeah, things got out of hand. He wouldn’t tell us where it was.”

“It looks like he gave it up.” Wayde waved the puzzle piece and put it in his pocket. “Okay, Benny, tell me about the other people on your brother’s list.”

“I don’t know—only the people he didn’t like.”

“All right, tell me their names.”

“Screw you, Wayde. If I give you the names, what guarantee do I have we’ll work together on this?”

“That would be none Benny, none at all.”

Benny took a swing at Wayde, hitting him on the side of the head. Wayde grabbed him with the intention of pushing the short man up against the wall behind him. But Benny jerked away and stumbled backward, crashing into the large plate-glass window behind the desk.

The glass shattered and Benny tumbled through the window and over the ledge. Wayde made a futile grabbed for him, but Benny fell toward the ground. Eyes wide with horror he stared up at Wayde, who watched helplessly as the screaming gangster plummeted to the black asphalt parking lot.

Wayde was stunned. He stared down at Rhineman’s twisted body, then turned away and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.

He looked around the room before pulling out his shirt-tail. He wiped Benny’s wallet clean and tossed it out the window after the lifeless body below. He hurriedly wiped his fingerprints from the desk, wall, ax, and spear. He picked up his wallet and knife putting them in his pocket. After removing the money from the goons’ billfolds, he wiped them clean and tossed them on the matted, tan-carpeted floor.

As he tucked in his shirt, he said, “Thanks, bad guys. It’s been a productive and enlightening morning. The pleasure’s been all mine; I’m sure.”

Being evasive he left the office and went down two flights of stairs, through the door and down the hallway to the elevator. He pushed the “down” button and took the elevator to the first floor. On the way down, he put the two pieces of the red puzzle in his belt together with the one he’d received from Dr. Rhineman. Wayde, he thought, the way things are going, it’s better to be safe than sorry. In his car, he placed Benny’s gun in the glove box and drove to his condominium.

When Wayde put the key into the front door lock, he heard his pet canary start chirping. He smiled, walked in and fed the little yellow bird. “You’re a good little guy—always happy to welcome me home.”

The telephone rang. He went into his office, “Wayde here.”

“Wayde, I thought you were coming back last night from fishing with Tiny?”

Wayde glanced at the desktop portrait of his blue-eyed, short blonde haired girlfriend, Betti Dennis. “I did, babe. We got back late.”

“I called you earlier, but you didn’t answer.”

“Well, I needed to begin to solve a puzzle.”

“What?”

“It’s a private joke, honey. What’s up?”

“Oh, there’s a party over at Lisa Kelly’s tonight. You want to make it?”

“Sure. What time?”

“Lisa said it would start about seven-thirty.”

“That’s fine. I’ll pick you up about eight, okay?”

“Okay, Wayde.” She paused. “Lisa’s brother, Lieutenant Kelly, is going to be there. Does that make a difference?”

“No, the lieutenant and I have a friendly relationship.”

“Wayde, if you don’t feel like going to a party…”

“No. It’s fine. Today was hectic. I need a little relaxation. I’ll see you later.”

He hung up the phone and walked over to the birdcage. Taking the three puzzle pieces out of the pocket in his belt buckle, he examined the two he’d gotten from Benny. One of them had the number ‘1’ printed on it, the other the number ‘7.’ Wayde smiled and slid the three pieces under the paper in the birdcage. “You guard these with your life, Yellowbird.” He smiled as the little bird c****d its head and looked at him.