The Josh Manely Mystery Characterizations Series

Conspiracy

A short story by Larry Weiss

Dalton Millen, Manager of Shipping and Receiving at Millen and Son, was organizing packages on shelves for delivery. The rugged looking six-foot-two-inch tall former Striker moved around the warehouse with graceful strides programmed into his muscle memory from years of playing soccer. He would rather be at the University College playing for the varsity team, than working, but he had accepted his father's plan, so Dalton had to bury his dream.

His father was thrilled when he agreed to take over the business in a few years. What he didn't know, is that Dalton accepted his proposal to keep an eye on Dear Old Dad, and protect his brother and sister from further exploitation.

The play by play of a soccer match between the Vancouver 86ers and the Los Angeles Salsa flowed from speakers as his movements took on a familiar rhythm? Whistling softly while he organized parcels. A bang on the open warehouse door made a rent in his routine. Dalton turned to see who had knocked and noticed two RCMP Constables standing in the doorway, one of whom he recognized as Stephan Anderson, but the attractive young female at his side was a stranger to him.

The constables walked over, and Stephan Anderson spoke gravely, 'Hi, Dalton. This is my partner, Rosalind Baxter. We need to tell you something, and I'm sorry to say it's not good news.'

Constable Baxter spoke softly, 'Dalton, is there a place we can talk?'

Dalton responded with a concerned tone, 'Sure, we can sit in my office.'

They walked slowly, in silence. Dalton closed the office door and pulled three chairs up to a table. An awkward quiet persisted in the space around the trio despite the muted sound of the radio penetrating the door.

Constable Anderson disturbed the deadly stillness, 'Dalton, there is no easy way to say this so here it is, your parents were involved in a serious accident on the Coquihalla Highway early this afternoon, and they were both killed.'

Dalton inhaled sharply as his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Regaining his composure after a few seconds, he said slowly, 'What do you mean they were both killed? What happened?'

Constable Baxter answered, 'It looks like the brakes on their SUV failed. Your father must have lost control and tried to steer the car up a runaway lane to stop it. The soft roadbed of the lane grabbed the tires and flipped the SUV end over end.'

Dalton said nothing as he teared up, staring at the messengers in disbelief.

Stephan took over and continued, 'There's more. The vehicle caught fire and your parents' bodies were badly burned. Their bodies have been transferred to the hospital morgue for further examination. I'm really sorry about this. Is there anything we can do for you?'

Dalton said nothing. He was in shock. The news about his mother's death took him by surprise. Stephan and Rosalind waited for him to respond, but he did not.

Stephan handed him a business card saying, 'Dalton, if there is anything that we can do for you, just contact us at this number. Either Rosalind or I will be available to help out.'

Dalton gave his head a little shake as if to wake himself up, 'Thanks, Stephan, I will. I need to be the one to give this news to Callum and Minah. I'll be fine. Right now, I need time on my own to think about what to say. I'll call you if I need you. Goodbye for now.'

After the constables had left, Dalton switched on the answering machine in his office, locked up, and headed for the house. He had to hurry, Callum would be there soon, and they had to talk before Minah got home. He knew Callum would be upset when he heard about Mom's death. That was not part of the plan, but what can he do about it now? Nothing, nothing at all.

* * * * *

Callum was surprised to see his brother at home so early in the day and sensed trouble.

'Cal, the RCMP paid me a visit to tell me about an accident. It happened exactly as planned, except for one hitch. Mom was in the car, and she was killed too.'

Callum dropped his books and flew at his brother, fists clenched, ready for a fight. Anticipating his reaction, grabbing his brother's arms as gently as possible, Dalton held him close, stifling his attack.

After a while, his younger brother collapsed in grief, sobbing, almost inaudible, 'How did that happen Dal? Mom never goes on those trips. What a screw-up. What do we do now?'

'Look, Cal, there's no time to talk. Minah will be home soon, and we have to be together on this. You need to calm down. She'll be wrecked when she hears the news. We're all she has now. We have to be strong for her.'

The usually self-assured teen spoke haltingly, 'Okay Dal, I get that, but how about the car? Are the police going to find out what we did? If they do, then what? Who is going to take care of Minah then?'

'Pull yourself together Callum. Mom was just as guilty as Dad. She knew about the pictures he took of Minah, his visits to call girls, and using our business as a front, and did nothing. You know that's the truth. I'm sorry, but it's what happened, and it doesn't matter anymore.'

Callum, half sobbing, recoiling from the coldness of his brother's words, responded, 'Okay, but what about the car? I was the one who figured out how to rig it. They're going to check out the car?'

'I don't think the car is a problem. It caught on fire, and that should cover everything up pretty good. Go wash your face so Minah can't tell you've been crying. She'll be home any minute now. We'll talk later.'