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Randall
“HEY THERE. THE PROPERTY manager is considering a new security monitoring system to surveil the parking area on the north side of the building. I need to check a few things from your balcony. Mind if we come in?” Randall lied but it was a safe bet that he wouldn’t be found out.
“We?” Ray Winston said from the entrance of his suite at Proctor Place.
Brad made his way down the hallway and appeared next to Randall.
“Okay but make it quick.” Ray pulled the door open, turned away and walked across the spacious living room.
The brothers stepped inside and started looking around. Randall struggled to keep his jaw from dropping open at the immense layout of the floor plan and embellishments at every turn. The Faucier Homes advertisements did not prepare him for what the penthouse suite really looked like inside. It was magnificent. The model units did not capture the luxury that was offered to those who could afford it. If he and Traci sold everything they owned, they couldn’t afford to live one month in a home like this. And, about that. How could this guy afford this place? None of this made sense, but he couldn’t let it distract him from the purpose of their visit. “I'm just going to take a look around,” he said and pretended to examine the ceiling.
Ray nodded, rolled his eyes and gave him a dismissive wave. Brad wandered around the living room. Something caught his eye and he stopped to look at a grouping of photographs on the desk near the broad picture window overlooking City Centre. He dropped his rucksack on the floor in front of him and lingered there.
“While I'm here, I wanted to ask you something,” Randall said and focused on Ray.
“What's that?” Ray said absently as sat down on the sofa and flipped open a copy of the Times Daily newspaper.
“You speak with Milo on a regular basis?” Brad said over his shoulder toward Ray.
Ray raised an eyebrow and tipped his head slightly. “I recall that I did speak with him once while visiting the campgrounds the other day. He asked how people manage a real estate parcel of that size, the acreage, zoning restrictions, building code regulations, laws governing right-of-way, pollution guidelines. All good questions. Does any of that interest you?” He smirked and buried his head in the newspaper. “I doubt it.”
“Really?” Randall stepped closer to Ray and folded his arms.
“Trust me, I was as surprised as you are.” He glanced up at Randall. “We chatted for a while. Is that against the law?” He gave a wry smile. “Oh, sorry, that’s right. You’re not Captain Wells anymore, are you?”
“Right.” Randall tightened his jaw and glanced at Brad who was examining more of the photos mounted on the walls and displayed on bookshelves. “I was wondering if he ever talked to you about some of the people that he associates with ... outside of Wyman's.”
“Do I seem like someone interested in a teenager's social life?” He put down the newspaper and sighed.
“Not his social life ...” Randall took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. “I'm concerned ... I think there are some guys trying to pressure him into ...”
Ray held up his hand. “Spare me the drama.”
“Has anyone else approached you about Wyman's?” Randall exhaled.
“Possibly. But why would I discuss that with you?”
Ray stepped behind the bar and lifted a crystal decanter onto the surface, poured a drink and looked at Brad who was staring at a faded group photograph in a frame. “Bradford, is it?” Ray held the glass out to Brad who swallowed hard and licked his lips. “Ten year old, single malt. The best you'll ever taste.”
Randall narrowed his eyes at Ray who ignored him and put the glass to his lips and slowly took a sip. Brad turned away and picked up his rucksack. Randall caught his eye and nodded toward the door.
“Alright, we're out of here,” Randall said and motioned to Brad.
“I thought you needed something on my balcony,” Ray said and made a grand sweeping motion toward the view.
“We’ve seen enough,” Brad grumbled and followed his brother to the door.
Ray walked behind them and held the door open. Randall gave him a nod and walked through to the hallway with Brad trailing behind him.
“One more thing,” Brad said and stepped back in the room.
Ray tilted his head to one side. “And, what is that?”
Brad reached his right hand forward, grabbed Ray by the throat and slammed him against the polar ice colored walls with a thud. He pressed his left forearm into Ray’s chest and leaned into his face. “If you ever come for my family, I promise you one thing,” Brad said through gritted teeth.
“You're choking me.” Ray dropped the glass to the floor and clawed at Brad’s wrist with both hands.
“When they find your body, there'll be one piece missing. I always keep one for a souvenir,” Brad tightened his grip. Ray’s face began to flush, and his eyes bulged in fear. Brad smiled. “You wanna know which one?”
“My big brother has a sick sense of humor. Come on, man.” Randall shook his head, patted Brad’s shoulder, and walked back into the hallway.
Brad let go of Ray's neck and watched him gasp for air on the floor for a few minutes. Ray staggered back to his feet, coughing and rubbing his neck. Brad stepped away and closed the door slowly behind him. Randall held the elevator for his brother who shrugged and stepped in next to him.
“Strange that Ray would visit Wyman’s. Definitely not his kind of place. Doesn’t make sense.” Randall released the stop button and the doors closed. “Those boys stalking Milo never came around Moe’s Tavern. I checked all the security videos. I’ve got to find out who they are.”
“Naw, you gotta find out who they work for.”
“You’re right.” Randall nodded, then gave Brad a side-eye and a smirk. “You scared the crap out of him in there. What you do that for?”
“I got my reasons.”
