Playing Games

Playing games was beneath Hugo Rangel. He lived by a code – that code included ethics, morals, taking responsibility, manning up! So when he watched Vinny Montague squirm whine and attempt to lay blame on a scrupulously honest woman and drag her into the mix and entwine her in his actions, he was livid.

He’d grown up with Amanda Gaines, knew her well. Hell, he’d even had a crush on her in the 6th grade. She’d grown into a beautiful woman with ebony black hair, dark brown eyes, and a long curvy body – a straight no-nonsense woman who stood for the underdog in all she did.

As a journalist, she wrote honestly, directly, fairly. Although he knew her political stance, she never once wavered from her oath – to provide clear concise facts allowing the reader to make up their own mind on the subject at hand.

It infuriated him beyond words that this slimy little weasel would suggest she’d paid him to pull off a job – the one he was going down for – breaking into Mr. Martinelly’s home to retrieve documents that could potentially harm his campaign to become Slogan Valley’s next mayor.

His attempt at portraying her as eager to get the facts and paid him to break in, cause havoc and steal information was bogus and pure bull crap. More, it angered him that because he’d made the statement during questioning meant that although Rangel knew it was a lie, he’d have to question her.

It wouldn’t hurt to hold the slime bucket until after he’d talked with Amanda Gaines, and he’d give her the option of doing so at the station or at her office, whichever worked although he knew it would be in her best interest if she did so ‘on record’.

He phoned the newspaper office and asked to speak with her and within moments she’d answered. “Miss Gaines, Detective Rangel.” They spoke for a few moments and he could hear the wheels turning. Then he explained the situation and she agreed to meet him in fifteen minutes. While he waited, he made a fresh pot of coffee.

Right on time! he noted. Fifteen minutes precisely. He stood, walked from his office to the front desk and smiled. “Miss Gaines, Detective Rangel, would you follow me please?” He wasn’t sure whether she remembered him or not, her expression hadn’t given anything away.

They walked toward his office and he indicated which was his and she entered automatically taking a seat. “I’m confused. You mentioned that someone had involved me in a crime?”

Sitting across from her behind the desk he explained the situation fully. “Do you know or have you ever met Harry Smith?”

“No, I don’t believe I have.”

“Were you aware he was going to break into Mr. Martinelley’s residence to steal documents?

“Absolutely not!” Affront was written all over her.

“Did you pay or promise payment to Harry Smith upon delivery of said documents?”

“NO! I did not!” Her irritation was growing and he understood and what’s more believed her.

When he’d finished questioning her he stated, “I know this is bullcrap. Unfortunately, an accusation was made and I have to follow through.”

“I get that. What I don’t get is why he chose me?”

“That is interesting in and of itself,” Rangel admitted. “Why is he interested in smearing your name? Which begs the question, who really hired him since that’s the culprit behind this. I’ll have another go at him in a few minutes. Once he knows we’ve spoken with you, and what we know, hopefully, we’ll find out what’s going on.”

“I sincerely hope so. First, I’m not used to being accused of a crime, and second, I’m not involved. I’ve had my share of disgruntled readers, it goes with the territory and no matter how fair you try to be, there’s always someone that will take exception.”

Rangel smiled, “Your one of a few journalists I personally read. Your honesty and forthright questions are always direct and on target.”

“Have you covered anything controversial lately, something that someone might want to distract attention from?”

“The last article I wrote for the Gazette related to the new zoning by-laws for the downtown district, just off of Wainright. The town council is considering changing from what is currently considered commercial/residential to commercial only. It will definitely disenfranchise a large number of people. The only detractor from the article was Marty Mentz. He seemed to feel that I was siding with the residents over commerce and heated words were exchanged at the office when he came bursting in on Friday.”

“I read the article, I certainly didn’t notice anything one-sided in the article.” Rangel paused momentarily, “I take it he’s coming down on the side of commercial…does he have a financial stake in the outcome?”

“Certainly, they all do. If this passes, then the individuals residing in all the buildings in the area will have to find new homes. The spaces they currently occupy will be renovated for new businesses and shops.” As an afterthought, she added, “A lot of money could be made off the sale of those buildings. What I don’t understand is why Mentz over-reacted to the article.”

“That’s most interesting,” Rangel replied. “Definitely worthy of a follow-up.”

“Anyone else take exception to the article?”

“No. I half expected a public outcry from the tenants that will be forced to find new residences but they are waiting hopefully on the town council to do the right thing. Unfortunately, that’s like spitting in the wind – they’ll do what they’ve always done – line their own pockets.”

“Anyone else stand out on town counsel that could stand to lose their shirt if this bill doesn’t pass?”

“Duke Marshall owns 5 buildings, Frances Main owns 3, Jack Morgan owns 4 and Mentz owns 8.”

“Have you spoken with them individually?”

“Yes, but none would go on record since it would be considered a conflict of interest.”

“It’s a conflict of interest anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yes, in my books. The thing is, there’s something else going on, something that hasn’t been made public yet. I’ve been discreetly digging, but I haven’t found out what it is.”

“Any ideas?” Rangel asked curiously.

“The only talk I’ve heard and its only rumour at this point is that there might be a major corporation interested in buying up most of the main street – and if that’s so, it would be to tear everything down and build a mall. It's simply speculation at this point, and my editor is touching base with cohorts in other areas to see if anyone else has caught wind of any backroom deals and if so who might be involved.”

“Personally, I doubt Marshall or Maine would be involved, but they might know something and certainly Martinelley may have heard talk and if that’s so, would definitely be motive to break into his place and obtain any documentation he might have.”

“Smearing my name would mean I’m off the article. That isn’t likely to happen unless enough mud is thrown. Unfortunately, a little sticks even when it has been categorically been proved inaccurate. Some people believe the worst no matter what. It’s why I’m always careful with what I write. I’ve seen good men and women with worthwhile careers derailed because someone hinted at wrongdoing because they had a bias of their own.”

“Thanks. You’ve given me a great deal of good for thought and several avenues to consider.”

“I wish you well,” she said standing, “I hope your able to find some answers because I certainly don’t want this hanging over my head.” She seemed momentarily disheartened.

“Don’t worry, Amanda, I intend to get to the bottom of this!”

She smiled up at him for the first time. She’d known he’d moved back home but hadn’t had any contact. He was as handsome as ever and his reputation preceded him as one of the good guys. Knowing that made her feel better about the situation. “Will you be able to tell me, off the record, what’s going on?”

“I'll keep you in the loop as much as possible, but I can’t or won’t be able to divulge a great deal of information in an ongoing investigation.”

She headed toward the door. “If I discover or hear of anything related, I’ll get in touch.”

Rangel walked toward her hand outstretched, “This has my personal information on it, my cell, address…call me anytime.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably take you up on that. I have a series of questions myself, starting with who this miscreant is, and what he was truly after. Let me know when I can release information pertaining to his arrest if that happens, will you?”

“Certainly.”

He watched her go, head held high, long elegant strides, conviction stamped in every movement. He knew without a shadow of a doubt, this had lit a fire under her and she was invested in finding out the truth. He’d have to watch her back because this had connections, she could be in danger…sullying her by implication was one thing, and could be just the start of things to come.