Dexter climbed out of bed and walked over to the window of his Reno, Nevada's casino hotel room. He yawned and opened the curtains enough to look out the window without exposing his naked body to the world. There was nothing to see except the rooftop of part of the hotel.
He rubbed his stomach, wishing it would settle down. He'd had a lot of coffee the night before, but it shouldn't have been bothering him by this point in time.
"I'm getting old," Dexter said.
His bladder demanded attention. He went over to the bathroom and relieved the pressure on his bladder while checking his reflection in the mirror. He looked at his naked body with a critical eye.
Not pleased with what he saw, he said, "I need to lose about forty pounds. I'm getting fat."
He looked down at his cock and muttered, "Another couple of pounds and I won't be able to see my cock."
He needed to start an exercise program. He had never liked exercising. To him it had always been a waste of time. All of that jumping, lifting things, and running around without going anywhere seemed rather pointless. Life in an office had really done a number on his fitness. He doubted that he could run a hundred yards, now.
He tried to remember the last time he had a day filled with balanced meals. He couldn't remember.
There had been a time when he had a half a grapefruit, and a slice of toast for breakfast. Lately it had been toaster bagels with cream cheese, toaster waffles with maple syrup, or sugar laden cereals.
His lunches were fast food burgers, fries, and sodas. He tried to remember when he had last eaten a chicken salad sandwich on white bread with a glass of milk.
Dinners were either prepackaged food, nuked in the microwave, or restaurant fare.
With that kind of diet it was a miracle he wasn't a hundred pounds overweight, but it wasn't going to be possible to change his diet while living in a hotel. He called room service, and ordered a continental breakfast, with a large pot of coffee. He put on a robe and went over to his computer. He checked the website, and answered a few e-mails via the hotel's free wifi. He put one of the more interesting emails on the website.
There was a knock on the door. He opened the door to find a guy from room service holding his breakfast on a tray.
Dexter stepped back and said, "Come in, and set it on the table."
The man set the tray on the table before handing Dexter the bill. Dexter charged it to his room, after adding a nice tip. He didn't notice that the bill already contained a tip, a delivery charge, sales tax, and hotel tax. He had been fairly lucky at cards the previous night ... he had won enough to cover the cost of the room for at least a week.
After pouring a cup of coffee, he returned to the computer. He was about to do a little more work, when his cell phone rang. Surprised, he picked it up and looked at the caller id. It was Eric.
Concerned, he answered, "Hello, Eric."
"Thank God you answered," Eric said.
"Why?" Dexter asked taken aback by the Eric's greeting.
"There was an explosion at the office, just a few minutes ago. It's all over the television, here," Eric said.
"Jesus," Dexter said feeling his stomach drop to the floor. While reaching for his pink pills, he asked, "Was anyone hurt?"
"They haven't said," Eric answered.
"Oh my God," Dexter said finding that his hands were shaking so hard that it was difficult to hold onto the package of pink pills. He didn't know what to think.
Eric said, "Channel 11 has got a traffic helicopter over the building, now. Smoke is coming out of it."
"Sweet Jesus," Dexter said.
His imagination was providing details that probably weren't there: hundreds of dead bodies, wailing children, and fire spreading to neighboring structures.
"There are police and fire trucks all over the place," Eric said.
"This is horrible," Dexter said. "You weren't anywhere near there, were you?"
"No," Eric answered.
"Thank God. Don't go anywhere near there," Dexter said. "Just ... stay ... stay safe."
"Don't worry about that," Eric said. "I'm packing up the family and getting the hell out of Dodge."
"Good thinking," Dexter said. "Interested in coming to Nevada?"
"I hadn't given it a thought," Eric said.
"I'm in Nevada. I can get you a room here in the hotel," Dexter said.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I kinda wanna keep my distance from you, until that madman is captured," Eric said.
"I don't blame you a bit," Dexter said. In fact, he would stay away from himself, if he could manage that. He said, "Jesus. I can't believe someone blew up our office."
"Anyway, I thought I'd let you know what happened, here," Eric said.
"Thanks. You take your wife and kids to someplace nice like ... uh ... Rat World," Dexter said grasping for a location that the whole family would enjoy.
"That's a good idea," Eric said.
Dexter said, "Charge anything you need, to the company. Use the debit card that I gave you for office supplies. I'll transfer a couple thousand dollars to it. Get a nice room and take your kids to the amusement parks."
"Thanks," Eric said.
"Take care of your family," Dexter said.
"I will," Eric said.
"You'd better get going," Dexter said.
"I'll call you when I get there."
"Call anytime," Dexter said relieved to know that Eric was going to take his family somewhere safe.
Eric disconnected. Dexter closed his phone trying to get his thoughts organized. Intellectually, he had known that there was someone out there that wanted to harm him. He had never come to grips with the idea emotionally. Now that a real attempt on his life had been made, he was totally freaked.
He jumped nearly a foot in the air when his cell phone rang again. He checked the caller id. It was the detective agency. He hoped that it was better news than what Eric had delivered.
He answered, "Hello, this is Dexter."
"This is Jeff Mertzer from the detective agency."
"I just got a call that my office blew up," Dexter said.
"I called to tell you that, and to let you know that we've got video of a man going into your office, last night. We're going to forward it to the police," Jeff said.
"Talk to Detective ... oh ... what's his name ... uh ... Detective Klingon? ... Kingston? ... Kinsey? ... something like that," Dexter said finding that his memory wasn't working all that well. "I've got his card, somewhere."
"Detective Kingsley?" Jeff asked.
"That's the guy," Dexter said.
"I'll get in touch with him right away," Jeff said. "Are you somewhere safe?"
"I'm in Nevada," Dexter answered.
"That should be safe enough. Just avoid pissing off the mob," Jeff said.
"The mob?" Dexter asked, looking anxiously around the room.
He couldn't understand why the mob might be involved, unless some of the petty criminals were suing their bosses.
"That was a joke," Jeff said.
"Sorry," Dexter said. "I'm not used to having my business blown up."
"Not many people are," Jeff said wryly.
"It is not an everyday thing," Dexter said.
"I'll get the video over to Detective Kingsley. I'm sure he'll want to check it out. I'll call you if I learn anything new."
"Thanks," Dexter said.
As soon as that call was disconnected, his cell phone rang again. He looked at the caller id. It was the police. He answered, "Hello. This is Dexter."
"This is Detective Kingsley. Your office was destroyed by a bomb about fifteen minutes ago."
"Eric and the private detective that I hired, have already called me," Dexter said.
"You hired a private detective?" Detective Kingsley asked.
"Yes, I did. I hired Jeff Mertzer."
"I know, Jeff. We've worked together in the past."
Dexter said, "He seemed to know who you were, when I talked to him about giving you the video from the office."
Detective Kingsley asked, "What video?"
"He says he has video of a guy entering my office, last night. He's probably trying to get in touch with you right now," Dexter said.
"Good. Where are you?" Detective Kingsley asked.
"I'm in Nevada," Dexter answered. He wasn't going to say exactly where he was in the state.
"I'll want to talk to you," Detective Kingsley said.
"I'll be back there, right after you arrest that madman," Dexter said. He was going to avoid heading home anytime soon.
"I'll need to talk to you sooner than that," Detective Kingsley said.
"Come on out to Nevada. I'll be glad to talk to you here," Dexter said. "If you don't want to come here, we can talk over the telephone."
Detective Kingsley said, "I'll talk to Jeff and see what he has."
"You do that," Dexter said.
After hanging up, Dexter swore, "Fucking self-service criminal investigation. It's a fucked up world when the police tell you to find the guy who is trying to kill you. Then after the asshole tries to kill you, they tell you, 'come down to the office, and we'll talk about it.' Bull shit. He should be out trying to catch the bastard."
He glanced over at the tray with his breakfast. His appetite was long gone. He grabbed his cup of coffee and drank it down. It had cooled off while he had been talking on the phone.
He grabbed his packet of pink pills while saying, "Fucking French Roast coffee. Tastes like it is burnt, even when it's cold!"
He sat down on the edge of the bed thinking about things. He thought about his boss's funeral and how only a handful of people attended. It had been him, Mr. Morris, a neighbor, and the immediate family. The guy had been a jerk, but there was something wrong with having a life that impacted so few people, that there weren't more people than that who were willing to come to his funeral.
He looked over at the television. Hoping that the explosion wouldn't be on one of the national cable news programs, he turned it on. One never knew what would take the attention of those vultures, especially on a 'slow news day.'
On hitting one of the national cable news stations, he saw an image of his office building burning. The commentator mentioned that explosion had been in the home office of Dexter's Website. He knew that wasn't going to be good for him.
He groaned, "Shit!"
He could just imagine everyone and his dog trying to hunt him down. There had to be reporters running around his home town on a search and destroy mission. Now he knew how a fox felt, in a British fox hunt. His picture was then shown.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
His cell phone rang. He stared at it in horror, thinking they had already found him. He checked the caller id, and found it was his lawyer.
He answered, "Hello, Mark."
"I guess you heard the news about your office," Mark said.
"Yes," Dexter answered.
Mark said, "Your wife called me."
"Why?" Dexter asked.
"Well, your office was blown up," Mark answered as if that should be obvious.
Dexter said, "I guess she wanted to find out if I was dead, so she could get on with her life."
"Don't be an asshole," Mark said.
"Maybe the ass-wipe she's been sleeping with is the one who put the bomb in my office. Should we tell the police?" Dexter asked.
"Don't tell the police wild speculations," Mark said. "You'll just make the investigation messier."
"Okay," Dexter said.
Mark said, "She wants to know that you're all right."
"Why?" Dexter asked.
"She's worried about you," Mark said.
Dexter said, "Tell her that I haven't changed my will, so she has nothing to worry about."
"You really need to talk to her," Mark said.
"We talked. She bitched at me. She called me a lousy role model for the kids. Tried to make me look like a jerk," Dexter said. "The only reason she'd come to my funeral, is to piss on my grave."
"Are you seeing a counselor?" Mark asked.
"Every week. It's not helping," Dexter said.
Mark said, "Your wife..."
"Call her my first wife. It sounds better," Dexter said.
Mark sighed. "Your first wife and your children..."
"Damned daughter is traitor. She set me up to be ambushed by that woman," Dexter said.
"They have gone into hiding. Your house..."
"You mean my apartment?" Dexter asked.
"Your first wife's house is surrounded by news reporters," Mark said.
This continued bashing of Dexter's wife was getting old. He liked Dexter, but he didn't like the way the man was denigrating Janet. He felt there needed to be a little give, there, somewhere.
"I'll bet that makes it tough for her to meet her lover," Dexter said.
Getting angry, Mark said, "Look. Your wife and kids are scared."
"You think they're scared? They should be in my position. It was my place of work that blew up. The bastard is trying to kill me, not them," Dexter said.
"Okay," Mark said.
"I don't want to talk about them any more," Dexter said.
Mark said, "Okay."
Dexter asked, "How's the lawsuit coming?"
"They're squirming. The court date is approaching and their last attempt to postpone it failed. They know that they don't stand a chance, particularly if you end up in front of a jury. I've got sixty people subpoenaed to testify that you were their manager. You're going to walk out of this with at least fifty million," Mark said.
"That's good news. Is there any chance of using this attempt on my life to stir things up?" Dexter asked.
"We're going to play it straight," Mark said. "The news services will be putting more than enough pressure on the company."
Actually, he figured that in light of the attempted murder, that the news services would dig up the details of the lawsuit and put it on the air. Rumor and innuendo would serve Dexter well. The company would react by wanting to settle and seal the records. He figured they would finish this thing in just a few days.
Happy that this conversation was ending on a positive note, Dexter said, "Handle it the way you see fit."
"By the way, where are you?" Mark asked.
Dexter answered, "I'm in Nevada."
"What are you doing there?"
Dexter said, "When I learned that someone was trying to kill me, I decided to do the smart thing."
"What's the smart thing?" Mark asked.
Knowing how Dexter tended to go overboard on things, he wanted to make sure his client didn't get into more trouble by doing something stupid.
"Run and hide. I have run, and now I'm hiding."
"Smart," Mark said.
"Getting a death threat tends to sharpen the wits," Dexter said lightly, he only wished it were true.
"I'll call you if anything happens, here," Mark said.
"Thanks," Dexter said.
After the call ended, Dexter sat on the edge of the bed staring at the television. His picture was all over the news.
He sighed and said, "It's probably not a good time to visit a whorehouse."
Edited By TeNderLoin