Roped Part 3 Read online

  Roped

  By Stephen Shypitka

  Smashwords Serialized Edition

  © 2021 Stephen Shypitka

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  For Farley Granger

  CONTENTS PART III

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About The Author

  Discover other Titles

  Acknowledgement

  Connect With The Author

  Free Tasty Bits

  Roped

  Chapter 7

  The sun was setting across the LA basin.

  Morgan was sitting melancholy on a Chez lounge. Red.

  Henri with a wave of his hand in front of Morgan's still torn face.

  “Why so down?” Henri righted himself turning away. “It's the darkness that's got you?” He stood staring at the city lights.

  "No. Can we just"—

  Henri placed the curtain rope around Morgan's neck.

  “Return that from whence it came.”

  “Jesus!” Morgan jumped.

  Henri motioned to the nearby set of curtains.

  A fresh linen tablecloth had been laid out across the dining room table.

  Henri stepped on the blood-stained carpet. A reminder of what lies beneath.

  “Oops...”

  Henri raised his Versace shoes.

  “I've ruined them?” Taking them off.

  He tried to wipe the carpet stain as best as he could with the old table runner. Wiping down one wooden leg. Re-adjusting the dining table so the leg mostly covered the stain.

  “Wait!” Morgan tried.

  Henri threw his shoes and discarded tablecloth together into a black plastic trash bag.

  “No, we haven't time. Dinner guests are arriving. Into a hamper.”

  “What?” Morgan sputtered. “You're still going through with it?”

  “Yes, my dear boy.” Henri stopped at a mirror. “Dinner at eight.” Quaffing his hair.

  “Dinner at eight?”

  “Oui.”

  Henri sighed.

  Trying to match ties on Morgan. Giving him a more reserved look.

  “Guess who's coming to dinner?”

  “Henri this is not funny.”

  Tying Morgan's tie for him.

  Tightening the knot around his neck.

  “Oh but is.” Making Morgan gasp.

  “Like I said before. You worry too much.”

  “There's blood on the carpet?” Morgan pointed.

  “It will help set the mood.”

  Henri dimmed the lights.

  He made rounds lighting candles.

  “Voilà,” smoke tracing from a long-stemmed matchstick.

  “There's Dickie dead in the sideboard?”

  “Atmosphere.” Combing Morgan's hair.

  Trying to give him a more sophisticated style as if he stepped out of the pages of Instinct.

  “They won't see a thing.” Henri kissed him. Settling him down.

  “Henri?”

  Henri licking a single hair out of place on Morgan's head.

  “If you must know.”

  He held out a dark blue dinner jacket sliding Morgan into it.

  “I believe it's the,” pulling along Morgan’s inseam. “District Attorney and”—

  “The District Attorney?” Morgan jumped at the name or Henri’s tug or both. “Robert Cadell?”

  “Yes, and Dickie's widowed aunt. Ms Atwater.”

  Morgan stunned.

  “Are coming? Here?”

  “After our little fiesta, you get rid of the body. You will be forever in my debt.”

  Morgan grabbed Henri by the lapels of his dinner jacket.

  “Have you completely lost your mind?”

  Henri pulled Morgan’s grip off his lapels smoothing them out back at the mirror.

  “It's not my fault you murdered him.”

  “My fault? Murdered him? When you say it out loud like that”—

  “Relax mon ami. I promise to help you.”

  Morgan welling up with tears.

  "Oh, God."

  “Relax. I will shield you with my money.”

  “Call and cancel them. Henri, before it's too late. Call and cancel—Why bother with any of it unless you want us to get caught?”

  “It's a little fundraiser the recently departed arranged.”

  “But he's sure to get suspicious.”

  “Roberto Cadell? More suspicious if we cancel. It's election eve and he needs the cash. Auntie Atwater will write the cheque and voilà. Our evening will be a success. Right under their noses.”

  “You're mad.”

  The doorbell chimed like a dinner bell.

  “Oh,” Morgan whimpered.

  “Quick. Drink this.”

  Morgan downed Henri's glass.

  “Now take this?”

  Morgan looked at it.

  “What is it?”

  Henri pushed it into Morgan's lips.

  “Klonopin. It will help calm you.”

  Another ring.

  Henri ran to the door. Looking back.

  “Isn't this exhilarating?”

  Morgan as if an answer, grabbed another glass. Downing it.

  Henri eyeing the empty.

  “Careful. Now the fun really begins. Follow my lead.”

  Henri opened the door and smiled big.

  Aunt Atwater beamed big pouring into the room. Even bigger kisses for Henri.

  “My dear, thank you for having us. You look wonderful.” She cooed.

  “Merci beaucoup mon chéri. So do you. As always auntie.”

  Kissed her back, squealed.

  ”And where did you get that bonnet?”

  Her hands through its feathers. Faithfully.

  “This old thing. Like me?” She mocked self-deprecating. “But thank you for noticing.”

  Morgan's nose wrinkled from the feather. It tickled his membranes. Passing by.

  Auntie Atwater spied Morgan, taking notice. She leant in,

  “A new beau of your own?”

  “Hardly. You know me.” He winked at her before turning back to Morgan. “More like part of an ageing collection.”

  Morgan was frowning now.

  Atwater laughing.

  “And just what have you been up to?” She asked Morgan direct.

  “I'm sorry?” Morgan stumbled.

  “Your colour looks awfully hectic. The pair of you. Flushed even.”

  Henri put his arm around Morgan.

  “We'll never tell.”

  “May I present District Attorney Robert Cadell.” Auntie presented. “Robert our host for the evening and the man I've been telling you so much about.” She emphasised.

  The figure stepped forward with his hand out revealing his cufflinks, no longer hidden behind the pink Azalea, it was Robert Cadell. But his gaze was startled upon seeing Henri there in his midst.

  “What's the matter, Robert? Looks like you've seen a ghost?” Henri grinned. The two reunited once again from the eatery off Valley Village.

  “You two know each other?” Auntie Atwater buzzed.

  “Yes you could say, I'm his biggest fan,” Henri assured.

  “Dickie's already made the introduction then?” Auntie asked.

  “Officially. Not till night.” Robert cleared up. “Just another behind-the-scenes benediction.” Robert shook Henri’s hand. Firm. “Nice to meet you.” Robert tried.

  “Robert por favor. Why so formal? Stop acting like a politician. We've known each other for ages.” Henri kisses him on one cheek.

  Atwater was laughing. Tugging on her pearls. Precious.

  Robert took half a step back.

  Henri's smile faded.

  Morgan made note.

  Henri finished with a second kiss forced to Robert's other cheek.

  “I'm the one who arranged this tête-à-tête darling.” Henri clarified. “I just had to put you two together. Auntie? What do you think? He fits the bill, doesn't he? Fills it out nicely in all the right places?”

  Henri looked at Cadell’s curves.

  Atwater giggled. Hand to her wrinkled mouth. Amused.

  Morgan drank a scowl.

  In nervous habit, Robert pulled on his shirt cuffs giving himself away.

  Morgan noticed their sparkle.

  “Nice cufflinks.” Sipped his champagne.

  “Morgan you do have an eye for the finer things.” Henri chortled then turned to Atwater. “And you Auntie? You two were made for each other.” He pawed her.

  “Yes, well, we've spent the most delightful time tossing back cocktails and getting acquainted.” Auntie patted Robert’s arm.

  Brushing against his cufflinks.

  “Like a pair of old mitts, you two are. Well worn.” Henri shot a look to Robert. The minute I saw Robert, I thought of you. I mean, if he, out of all people, could give me a social conscience, can you imagine?” Henri eyed Morgan. “I knew we just had to have him for the legislature.”

  “Attorney General.” Morgan corrected.

  “Whatever. I don
't know, there's just something about Mr Deeds that just wants one to part with one's chequebook.”

  Auntie was back to laughing.

  “Easy there big fella. We just started with drinks.” Robert chided.

  “Yes, well that's why your here isn't it? Robert is far too civilised to mention money. Matter's of the heart?” Henri fired another look to Robert. “Well, that's entirely another affair. That's why Dickie brought you here to close the deal, as it were, tonight. You know our Dickie, Auntie, ever so crass.”

  “Where is Dickie?” Auntie looked around the room her eyes ending on Morgan who shrugged.

  “Dickie? Well, we thought he would be coming with you? We haven't seen him. Have we Morgan?” Henri looked.

  Morgan strained, “No.”

  “Auntie this is Morgan.”

  Morgan shook her hand.

  “My what strong hands. Do you mind?” Auntie held her grip. Turning over Morgan’s palm. “I'm a palm reader. Did you know Henri? I'm part psychic.”

  Morgan cried out his hand instantly recoiled.

  “You're psychic?” He gasped.

  “Not professionally. Merely a hobby.” She laughed.

  “Don't worry honey. She won't bite.” Henri mused. “Morgan’s from a very conservative Christian background. I think they only started wearing buttons.”

  Made Auntie squeal with delight.

  “Nothing wrong with being conservative is there?” Robert assured.

  Auntie taking hold of Morgan's hand once more.

  “Oh yes, such a firm grip.” Followed a grimace. “Oh, my?”

  “What is it?” Morgan angst-ridden.

  "I'm not sure." Auntie looked closer. "You have such a short lifeline?"

  “What does that mean?” Morgan looked to Henri. “What does it mean?”

  “I'm sorry Robert this is Morgan.” Henri apologised.

  Auntie was double-checking with her spectacles.

  "Sorry, dear."

  She reaffirmed.

  Morgan pulled his hand back sharply.

  “I didn't mean to worry you. I'm afraid I've got the poor boy worked up.” Auntie looked over her frames.

  “It's started long before you arrived.” Henri attested. “Trust me.”

  Robert extended his hand to shake Morgan's.

  Morgan staring at his hands merely walked away deeper into the room. Agitated.

  Robert looked.

  “How do you two know each other?” He quizzed.

  “Oh, Morgan and I go way back, to the back of beyond. Don't we Morgan?”

  Morgan slumped into a chair.

  “Look at me?” Henri off Morgan back to his two guests. “Where are my manners?”

  Morgan in a wayward glance spied Dickie's lighter.

  Frantic. He placed it into his trousers’ pocket. Fast.

  Un-noticed.

  “Morgan, quick the champagne. Poor auntie is sucking air.”

  Morgan up to the sideboard back fumbling with the fresh bottle.

  “How on earth am I going to get you to part with a cheque when you're not the least bit tipsy?”

  Morgan trying to fill a glass was hip-checked out of the way by Henri.

  “I'll take care of it.” He took over. Shook his head in disgust at Morgan’s social skills.

  There was laughter.

  Henri moved them all to the sideboard, sitting them at the dining room table.

  Morgan shook his head in disbelief.

  He rejoined the group reluctantly but kept his distance from the table as if he were afraid. And he was.

  He slumped further in his familiar chair.

  “What is that?” Robert asked.

  “What?” Henri asked.

  “There on the floor.” Robert pointed.

  Auntie with her spectacles back on.

  “It looks like blood.”

  "Oh, God." Morgan began up to his feet. "It's not. It can't possibly be. You're mistaken." Morgan moved closer forcing a look. "Why it's not even red?"

  Auntie moved closer her spectacles pressing in.

  “It looks red to me.”

  Made Morgan’s lips tremble. He fell back into the dining room chair. Trying to block Atwater’s view.

  “Don't mind Morgan. He's colour blind.” Henri suggested.

  “Did you two cut yourself shaving?” Robert cajoled.

  “Ah? It's from his dog.” Morgan panicked.

  “Dog?” Auntie looked.

  “Yes, my dachshund,” Henri explained. “Morgan managed to cross paths with it just before you arrived. Crushed its paw.” Henri looked at Morgan. “Poor thing.”

  “Sorry,” Morgan muttered.

  “Now he can't stop apologising for it.”

  “Sorry.” Morgan apologised again.

  "You see?" Henri thin-lipped. "Over and over."

  Robert looked.

  ”I didn't know you had a dog?

  “That's all right.” Henri was cavalier about the whole affair. “Neither did I.”

  Made Morgan choke on his drink.

  “Where is it now?” Auntie wondered. Her spectacles surveying the room.

  Morgan coughing louder.

  “Hmm?” Henri seemed disenchanted.

  “The dog.” Atwater mused.

  “Samuel del amor del toro de la visitación?” Announcing as if it, the breed, had a name. A simple Max or George would not do for Henri. It had to be flamboyant.

  “I had to lock the beast up. Keep it from getting underfoot. It has a nasty habit of biting people.”

  With that Morgan began to snap, snarl and bark.

  “You see?”

  Henri pointed.

  Auntie laughed, but Morgan made Robert grimace.

  “What do you say we eat?” Henri suggested. “I don't know about you all, but I'm simply starving.” Henri grabbed the bottle. Pouring haphazardly. Sloshing. Stood heading to the kitchen. “Roberto?” Henri gazed back longingly.

  ”Why don't you fiddle with my ivory? Hmm?”

  Robert shifted anxious in his seat when Henri motioned to the Steinway.

  “Oh, Mister Cadell do you play?” Auntie gushed like a spring.

  “Not really.” Robert twisted his bow tie.

  "False modesty. Amuse us, Robert, with something light." Henri picked up a knife. "While I carve the beast."

  Morgan sank further.

  “If you insist.” Robert’s self-effacing quickly turned to bravado.

  "I'm afraid I do," Henri replied.

  ***

  Chapter 8

  Robert at the piano bench began playing.

  “Join us, Morgan, won't you?” Auntie motioned.

  Morgan did so half-heartedly.

  Robert played.

  “Oh, that's lovely. What? What do you call it?” Auntie fawned.

  “Wandering fantasy.” Robert smiled. A perfect politician’s grin.

  All smiles and kissing babies.

  “Impressive.” Cooed Henri. Sticking his neck out.

  "It does have a way of making one feel free doesn't it Morgan? One escaping." Auntie droned on.

  Morgan was lost.

  “Why, it's absolutely charming.” Once again tugging on her pearls.

  “And so is Roberto.” Henri insisted. Craned his neck out from the kitchen.

  "Yes, I can see that." Auntie clucked. "Wouldn't you agree, Morgan?"

  “Oui.” Morgan chirped. Sarcastic.

  Making Henri stick his neck out once again.

  “There's only room for one French man honey and that would be me.” He chastised. A Henckel pointed to his chest.

  "An attorney and a musician? What is your birth sign, Mr Cadell?” She began.

  “I haven't the slightest.” Robert shook his head as he continued to play.

  "Well, the juxtaposition of critical thinking and the emotional would leave me to believe you're a Taurus. Quick, Mr Cadell your birthday then?”

  “May sixteenth.”

  “You see I called it. Bang on Taurus. You are tenacious, deliberate, as I said before, emotional. Careful with your heart Mr Cadwell it may lead to your undoing. Taureans have been known to have their bouts of unfaithfulness.”

  Henri laughed.

  Robert missed a note.

  “Looks like you slipped maestro.” Morgan smiled.

  “And you Morgan? What is your birthday?” Auntie continued.

  “I'm a Gemini and I already know everything there is to know about astrology.” Morgan insisted. Slightly tipsy.

  “Yes, well then you know you as a Gemini you are literally of two minds. Two personalities. Careful you don't tear yourself in two. Gemini's can come across as schizophrenic”—