D. Schmidt - They Ate the Waitress?

Back at his apartment, he collapsed on the couch and fell into a fitful sleep. An hour later, his convalescence was interrupted by a transmission from the captain of the security patrol. “I have some good news, Mr. Wergild. We have located your kidnap victim.”

“You found Gabrielle?” He bolted upright, nearly knocking over the coffee table in front of the couch. “Did you catch the kidnappers? Did they hurt her? Is she going to pay me?”

“She was at home. When I asked her about the kidnapping, she had no idea what I was talking about. She had spent the evening performing at a nightclub on the other side of Vancouver.”

“Oh, holy hell… I can’t believe this! Does she have any witnesses?”

“Two hundred and forty-three.” Grinning, he added, “Would you like their transmission frequencies?”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said glumly, pushing himself up from the couch. “Did Gabrielle have any idea why the kidnappers would have called me and not a relative?”

“She said most of her family lives in another state.”

“Oh, alright. Thanks for your help.”

“No thanks necessary,” the captain said. “You’ll be getting quite the hefty bill in the morning.”

Nick switched off his transmitter and trudged off to bed. “Maybe she doesn’t have anything to do with these attempts on my life after all. Maybe the phony kidnapper is one of my old enemies, someone I arrested years ago. Or it’s Renée’s killer trying to get rid of me before I solve the case. Or an ex-girlfriend. Or grandma…”

The next morning, Nick was taking a bath when he was struck by a sudden flash of brilliance. He leapt out of the tub, dripping wet and covered in soap, and rushed into the kitchen. Grabbing his transmitter, he contacted the captain of the security patrol. “What is Gabrielle’s last name?!”

The sound of fingers tap dancing across a keyboard. “My records show her full name is… Gabrielle Valula Fairbanks. Why?”

“I’ll tell you later.” He returned to the bathroom and hopped back into the tub. Sadly, the bubbles had dissolved. With a sigh, he let out the water and showered off the soap. Ten minutes later, he was dry, dressed, and on his way to Gabrielle Fairbanks’ gargantuan house.

He parked across the street, grabbed his spare laser stunner from the glove compartment, and cautiously crept to her yard, hiding behind a tree. The front door banged open and a portly man in an ill-fitting security guard uniform stepped outside. Trudging across the grass, the guard scanned the area for any signs of an intruder. Spying Nick’s car, he reached for his transmitter.

Before the guard could call out a warning, Nick stepped out from behind his tree and fired. The guard collapsed, shaking violently. Moving quickly, Nick grabbed the guard’s handcuffs and secured his hands behind his back.

A few minutes later, the guard reluctantly returned to consciousness. Nick grabbed the guard’s transmitter from his belt and pressed it to his face. “You have a choice,” he growled. “You can call Ms. Fairbanks and tell her to come outside, or I can kick your fat head in until the lawn is covered in brains.”

“What was the first choice again?”

Nick gave the guard a little extra encouragement in the form of a boot to the solar plexus. At last, he did as ordered. After another stunner blast, Nick dragged him to the front porch, hiding behind the front door. Moments later, Gabrielle joined her security guard on the ground. Nick dragged his unconscious prisoners into the kitchen, dropping them roughly into Gabrielle’s high-backed, wooden chairs. He handcuffed the comatose couple and waited for them to regain consciousness.

“Nick?” Gabrielle moaned. “I can’t believe you still think I’m trying to kill you. As I told the security patrolmen, I had nothing to do with your little adventure at the candy factory. I have plenty of witnesses.”

“I know you’re lying!” Nick pulled a box of toothpicks from a cabinet. Grabbing the guard’s wrist, he jammed one of the wooden slivers under his fingernail. The guard screamed in agony. “Now, tell me the truth.”

“But you haven’t asked me anything!” the guard protested.

“Not you,” Nick snapped. “Her. I’m too much of a gentleman to torture a woman. It’s just how I was raised.”

“Nick, I am telling you the truth,” Gabrielle insisted. “Please believe me. I have no idea who’s been after you.”

He jabbed another toothpick under the guard’s thumbnail, drawing pained howls. “I can torture him all day if I have to,” he said. “Your name is Fairbanks. I left your sister at the altar, arrested your father, and turned him over to the authorities wearing nothing but leather bondage gear.”

“Why were you wearing leather bondage gear?”

“Not me. Him.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “But I’m sure you know all this. Your father must have called you from the nut house and told you all about me; that’s how you knew my real name. You knew how I hurt your family, and you were desperate for revenge.”

“Of course I was!” she spat, struggling vainly against her restraints. “I despise you, Nick. It pained me to flirt with you, but I knew you were arrogant and stupid enough to fall for it. When you invited me over, I was certain you wanted me out of the house so you could search the place. So I left a window open, grabbed my pistol, and waited for you to arrive. It would have appeared as if I had simply killed a prowler. No arbitrator in the territories would have convicted me. For all I knew, I was about be raped! But I only tried to kill you one time . Get over it.”

He took a moment to consider her explanation. “You sound like you’re telling the truth. But I’d better torture him a little more, just to be sure.”

An hour of tormenting the guard did nothing to change Gabrielle’s story. Nick made a quick transmission to his lawyer, who drew up a contract for everyone to sign. In exchange for Gabrielle not pressing charges against Nick for breaking into her house, Nick agreed to not have her arrested for trying to kill him. The security guard agreed to not press charges in exchange for three hundred dollars and a box of snack cakes. Nick didn’t want them anymore. They were chocolate.

After everything was signed and stamped, Nick headed home. “The good news is that Gabrielle probably won’t try to kill me again. The bad news is that I still don’t know who the kidnapper was or why he tried to kill me. – God, I’m tired. I’m definitely taking tomorrow off.”

Later that day, while waiting for his meeting with Reid, Nick passed the time at his computer reading the newsfeeds. The top story was the strained relations between the Republic of Texas and the United Territories of Alaska. The ROT felt that the UTA wasn’t exporting enough oil, and the UTA felt that the ROT didn’t appreciate how hard to was to get anything done when it was so damn cold all the time.

The arts feed told of a scandal at a local gallery. They had made millions selling paintings supposedly created by an artistically-gifted horse that used her tail as a brush. However, a critic had discovered that the paintings were actually created by a classically trained artist who’d spent forty years studying Renaissance masterworks. Once the story hit the media, the gallery went out of business. The remaining paintings were sold to a fast food restaurant. Customers could get one free with the purchase of a large milkshake.

The local crime newsfeed had a brief story about the fire at Hand to Mouth. The security patrol found a car matching the description Nick had given them. It was found a few blocks away from the restaurant, abandoned and on fire. The car had been stolen the day before from a family that lived nearby. Their insurance company had already announced that it was not going to pay, as there was no proof that the car hadn’t been on fire when they bought it.