To or Not To

By William Plante

Vile verbs, atrocious adjectives, an audacious altercation in a five-star Manhattan dining room.
A father complained to the chief of police. "My daughter said he had the look of an insane person, tried to hit her, kidnap her, could have beaten her badly if she had not broken away. The guy's a madman; Fled to Europe, he must not be allowed to return. Should I hire that retired detective? Do whatever is necessary. You know what I mean."
The Chief of Police said of the officer, “He is not a hit man, a private detective for only a few months, never placed a foot in Europe. His wife died, has no family, nothing to lose."
Deputy, "25 years on the force, just a three-striper, ready for 'Driving Miss Daisy', a cell phone his office now. Yet he speaks 'Ooh La La', won't be disadvantaged amidst Europeans."
Chief, "A file indicates the assailant spends time in Europe. His racecourse runs from Bruges in the north to Monaco in the south. Villages dot the landscape in between, dark corners, narrow streets begging an ambush. He won't stand a chance."
Deputy, "He's an orphan, parish nuns raised him. On the heels of that psycho, he will require their novenas. He could return in a coffin."
You can tell, this story is about a dilemma in Europe -To or Not To.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Plante
• Release date: Nov 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463316849

William Plante

I write to entertain, laugh at, intrigue and gasp. No shortage of subjects. I lugged my cameras and tripod over oceans through countries; photographed hippos and hips.Bunked down in the ‘talked’ about hotels, drank in 'the water holes'. Met a spectrum of characters; sat in Hemingway’s Ritz chair, drink scotch now.I'm writing days and nights now; tales of suspense and spice. Voila.Read less

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TO OR NOT TO

INTRIGUE

WD PLANTE

Copyright © 2020, WD PLANTE

all rights reserved.

TO OR NOT TO

A retired New York detective was hired to fly to Europe, track down a fugitive, then decide, to or not to.

A ruckus in a Manhattan restaurant. Vile verbs and abrasive adjectives turned heads in the swishy night club.

A man vented obscenity upon another man. He was seated next to an exceedingly attractive young lady. Violent blows, left and right, broke the victim's nose, fractured his cheek bone. The aggressor yanked the woman up, Versace silk ripped. Two other men interceded, were slammed to the floor. She bolted.

The slugger bullied his way out of the eatery, threatened the assaulted woman, I'll be back..

The assailant, a British citizen, shoved his way into a cab, JFK and floor it. Straightened his Burberry silk tie and checked his wallet, several thousand dollars and pounds. The man seldom used a credit card.

He bought a ticket on British Airways bound for London. The flight scheduled to depart in 40 minutes. He walked down the line of airline counters and checked other flights to Europe. Lufthansa had a seat available to Brussels, perfect. He purchased another ticket. They would be waiting for him at Heathrow, dumb-ass detectives.

New Yorkers could care less about another altercation in their city. It was the year 2000. Father of the threatened girl was beyond livid. A prominent citizen, donor and supporter of the police department, contacted the top brass, Where is the creep? He beat up a guy, threatened to come back, accost my daughter.

Chief Inspector, Calm down, I am not saying it is her fault.

She cannot help it, being beautiful, men fighting over her. Where is the guy?

He caught a cab to JFK, bought a ticket to London. The plane landed in Heathrow, not on it. Probably took another flight to someplace in Europe. All we can do is file a complaint with Interpol. They'll do the paperwork, nothing more, busy hunting murderers and bank robbers.

Irritated father, He is now out of your jurisdiction. Should I retain a detective recently retired from your force, been a friend of mine forever, we usher together at church, pass the baskets, his professional reputation impeccable, Shaw Lancaster?

Chief, Good cop, respected, but not known as the grim reaper on the force, narcotics for years, never gave anyone lead poisoning nor fired his gun. When younger, worked undercover, tough, a boxer and still involved in training young boys at youth clubs.

Father, A boxer, good, will beat some sense into the maniac. I'm not interested in an arrest. The fugitive vowed to return, harm my daughter. I don't want him in this country, or planet, if you know what I mean.

Chief, If you're implying what I think you are, don't tell me.

Father, Whatever; someone must go to Europe ASAP and deal with him, finally.

Chief, You should know Lancaster is not a muscle man. He is certainly capable of tracking down the feces and flushing him, a guy who measures twice, and cuts once. But odds are against accomplishing the assignment. The fugitive is well protected.

Father, "Who - the Mafia, a drug Czar?'

Chief, No, he is insulated by something more potent, wealth and social status. His family is a giant in the textile industry. The son represents the company in the fashion world, well known by everyone, pictures of him with all the top designers, dates the supermodels. You must realize it is not as if he raped your daughter. Accosting and threatening her is not a major offense. Authorities in Europe will not pay much attention.

Father, My daughter said he had the look of an insane person, tried to hit her, kidnap her. He could have beaten her badly if she had not broken away. The guy's a madman; he must not be allowed to return.

A Deputy added, Lancaster is not a hit man, a private detective for only a few months, never placed a foot on the continent. Is wife died, has no family, nothing to lose.

Chief, 25 years on the force, just a three-striper, ready for 'Driving Miss Daisy', a cell phone his office now. Yet he speaks 'Ooh La La', won't be disadvantaged amidst Europeans.

Deputy, A file indicates the assailant spends time in Europe. His racecourse runs from Bruges in the north to Monaco in the south. Villages dot the landscape in between, dark corners, narrow streets begging an ambush. Lancaster won't stand a chance.

Chief, He's an orphan, parish nuns raised him. They told me he never fought on the playground, always broke fights up. On the heels of that psycho, he will require their novenas. He could return in a coffin.

The father, I like him, a man from yesteryear, never says f this, f that. Why did Lancaster retire after 25 years, still a young man?

Deputy, A drug case, we suspected a transfer of cocaine. Lancaster and another officer staked out in an unmarked car, late at night. A SUV ran a red light and struck a van, sent it crashing into a utility pole. The SUV rolled over, the officer ran to it, while Lancaster ran to the van.

Smoke billowed out of the van, the driver jumped out, leaving a man inside, strapped in a wheelchair, unable to escape. Thickening smoke, about to catch fire, Lancaster opened the back doors, entered, unstrapped the man, and pulled him out to safety.

Lancaster received a commendation, had a wife then, who made him promise to retire after 25 years’ service.

The father knew his friend was not the type to fall asleep at the wheel, would produce results. He contacted Lancaster, asked, Will you be on your own in Europe?

No, I have a valuable contact on the continent, a woman who has international connections.

The father hired Lancaster. Expensive in Europe, I don't want you cutting corners. He wrote a $100,000 check, If you need more call me. Make sure he never returns to the States. I know my daughter has her troubles with men.

Lancaster, Well, that presents a dilemma, there is only one way to guarantee it, and he did not commit a capital crime. In absence of that I'll have to figure out a way.

The father, I realize it's a snag, but somehow make it happen, an act of self-defense. I will not ask questions.

Tell me about this guy.

His name is Clifford Beardsley, an Englishman, lives in Europe, millions in his pockets, his father a textile mogul in Yorkshire, mother a London socialite. She is known as one of Britain's authorities on flowers. The son is also knowledgeable in this flora arena. He represents his father's business in the fashion cities of Paris, Milan and New York, here often.

Your daughter owns a flower shop in Manhattan. Seems to have a rash of male clients.

Yes, that is how Beardsley became acquainted. Both have an affinity for blossoming buds. She made up arrangements for him over the months, dated him often when here; thought of him as a gentleman, always polite and considerate.

A sincere relationship?

Leading up to it, until one day, while creating an arrangement for him, he went into a rage, tore the flowers out of the vase accusing her of being incompetent and stormed out. He apologized the next day, but over time became irritable on and off. She decided it best to break off their relationship, told him she met another man. Last night he followed my daughter and her boyfriend into a restaurant. He exploded. He's unpredictable, a violent time bomb, something wrong with him, must not be allowed back into this country.

I'll find the scum bag, figure something out, will use the money only for expenses, doing it for a friend and a daughter my wife and I never had.

Not the only reasons Lancaster took on the assignment. After his wife died, he retired as promised. Hung out his private detective shingle, offered several assignments, declined all. He talked every day and night to her; last thing she would want to hear, death and destruction.

The detective may have been retired, but still knew the law and how to generate results. Suggested to his previous superiors it would be wise to send a couple of eager female rookies to the airport, they would take the assignment as a challenge, find out which airline sold a ticket that evening to Beardsley. Fired up, they dug in and discovered the man flew to Brussels.

Lancaster made a call to his lady friend in Europe, owner of a successful private investigative agency in Paris with offices in key cities throughout the continent. She put her Brussels agent on it. He determined which custom agents were on duty that night clearing the flight. The most influential man on the continent is a green Ben Franklin, one given to each of the four. Yes, a Clifford Beardsley passed through our line. Asked his destination, answer Bruges.

Bruges is a city of colorful bricks and mortar and riddled with a saga of hideous wars and revolutions. Their invincible spirit never broken, today, hundreds of hotels, quaint or plush, five and four stars thrive on its cobbled streets. The fugitive was most likely in one, how to find him; certainly not by contacting each hotel.

Lancaster, aware restaurants needed constant deliveries of fresh meats, vegetables, and fruits, contacted the eleven purveyors of these necessities in Bruges. He faxed each a photo of Beardsley and offered a reward of $1,000 to both the driver and hotel clerk who identified him. Dozens of drivers made copies of the photo to leave at front desks. Had this man checked in?

Within a few days, Lancaster received a tip from a hotel where the fugitive stayed a week before checking out. He paid cash