RAD

Remo Dawg was a curious man in more ways than one. Remo Dawg wasn’t his birth name nor was Dawgouski as he often told the curious. His real name doesn’t really matter because the life he lived under that name was extremely comfortable but ordinary. That life never got involved with his professional life. Never. Well, perhaps hardly ever.

As he had for some years, Remo pulled into a rather ordinary parking garage in a suburban Boston office complex. He drove to his reserved parking spot on its fifth level. Once there he locked most of his personal effects in the trunk of his late model black BMW sport coupe and took the nearby stairwell to the fourth level. There he went to the trunk of his handsome but much more modest silver Mustang to retrieve the personal effects of Remo Dawg. No one noticed his almost daily routine. No one was supposed to notice.

It was incredible just how much a few details and props could change a man’s appearance. The face was still darkly handsome and the body lean and muscular. Yet some glasses and a well made wig plus a few other touches made Remo another man from the one who had just driven in to the eyes of anyone who had been looking.

Professional Identity complete, Remo embarked on the last part of his normal commute from his home in a posh Boston suburb to the offices of Baltic Imports in a large modern Back Bay office building close by Fenway Park.

Baltic Imports was also a curious company. It didn’t import anything. It was a front. Don’t get me wrong. Remo wasn’t a crook and Baltic wasn‘t a scam. Far from it, Remo was one of the most successful but least known private investigators in the business.

Remo Dawg’s early background was odd for a PI. The only son of a wealthy Boston family, he had used his sharp mind and near photographic memory to get the education his family had urged him to get. He had acquired an M.I.T degree and a University of Chicago Business School degree in the process. Despite his intellectual gifts, the man now Remo’s two great passions in life were golf and murder mysteries. His childhood heroes had been Ben Hogan, Charlie Chan, and Sherlock Holmes.

Directly out of grad school, the man now Remo headed for the golf course rather than Wall Street. There he had some success on a minor pro golf tour for a couple years before forsaking that life for a twenty year stint with the FBI. Mostly he had worked on white collar cases. This included frequent assignment to mob related cases with a business angle. A good deal of his time with The Bureau was spent undercover. A legacy from those days was a price on his head.

Now mostly he worked as “a consultant” to the SEC though he did take some private clients and did some very occasional pro-bono work when properly motivated.

His office was handsome enough but intentionally quite ordinary. It got little foot traffic. He suspected some of his neighbors thought it a front for some mob business because he got a lot of respect for little effort. That suited Remo just fine.

Remo’s partner, secretary, and number one investigator Candy Cain was anything but ordinary. She matched Remo’s five ten stature and was a stunning blonde with the kind of figure for which men died. Inside, that formidable array of physical charms was a deceptively cunning person of no little intellect. Her acting skills that would have gone a long way in Hollywood.

Their morning greeting was always of the same sort. Their banter was always cheerful and laced with sex -- mostly the bullshit kind.

“Hey, Candy.”

“Hey, Remo.”

“Get laid last night, Candy?”

“You know I did. How about yourself?”

“Only twice, but the redhead was particularly good.”

Candy had a real name and a real life too. They’d been a team for almost five years. Remo knew what he needed to know about Candy, but Candy hadn’t a clue as to Remo’s real name or non-professional life. They both knew it was best that way.

“We got that Mr. Hogg at eleven. What’s that all about anyway, Remo?”, asked Candy brightly.

Remo knew from his preliminary look at Hogg who had been referred to him by one of his SEC contacts that the alleged Mr. Hogg was really a ripped off investor named Haberski. Hogg was from the poor side of Louisville not the much grander Florida address he had provided the SEC. The Florida address was that of his younger brother.

This bit of initial client deception was not unusual in cases of this sort. It’s always a bit embarrassing to admit to a stranger that you’ve been a fool with your money. Somehow aliases seemed to help such clients.

Remo omitted all that in his reply to Candy.

“Just a half-baked red-necked greeny who lost a bundle on the best God damned organic fertilizer company in Boston. At least that’s what their PR releases claimed. I’ll have you sit in if it gets interesting, Candy”, replied Remo wondering what could be interesting about this case.

==============

Hogg was on time. Remo caught both Candy’s bemused expression and that fact that Hogg tried unsuccessfully to cop a feel as she showed him into his office. Hogg was lucky to be a client. Candy was a black belt. Her karate chop could break a man’s arm.

Remo well understood the reason for Candy’s expression as he took a measure of Hogg’s appearance. A reptilian rather than a bovine name would have been more apt for the poorly dressed, short, older man with bad skin and a worse toupee. His skin had an improbably unhealthy green cast.

Remo thought to himself that this could be good so asked Candy to join them.

“Miss Cain, my top investigator will be joining us, Mr. Hogg. It’s important that she be well briefed from the start.”, began Remo after greeting the man and offering him a seat.

“Well, I suppose if she must”, returned the man meekly, “This is all so very embarrassing. I’d hoped we could keep things confidential between ourselves, Mr. Dawg.”

As he answered, Remo noted Candy had chosen a seat as far from Hogg as she could. She was wrinkling her pretty nose. Soon Remo too caught the overwhelming scent of cheap cologne.

“Don’t be concerned, Mr. Hogg, speaking to Miss Cain is the same as speaking to me. Nothing you tell us goes beyond this room…… I’ve already looked into this matter some. Still, it would be best if you would tell us about yourself and this matter from your own viewpoint like I know nothing whatsoever of either. Let‘s start with a bit about your own background.”

Remo noted the man didn’t look pleased with his rapid fire manner.

Hogg threw off his timidity as he launched into a rather verbose, pompous even self promoting recap of his career in the financial industry. Then he went onto his subsequent success with investments in stocks and Florida real estate.

Remo knew it was all lies, but that too was a lesson he needed to learn about Hogg. When Hogg had finished his self-aggrandizing soliloquy on himself, Remo thanked him giving no indication of his opinion of Hogg’s phony credentials.

“Fine, Mr. Hogg. Now tell me about your involvement with this particular investment. An organic fertilizer company isn’t it?”, suggested Remo.

“Yes, the company is in that line of business and based here in Boston. By now it was supposed to be well on its way to plants all over the country. Unfortunately, it’s still working on it’s first plant. Timing is of the essence. There is a green revolution in America now, you know.”, started Hogg.

“Yes, I’ve heard that said.”, responded Remo as Hogg paused for reassurance he was being understood.

“Well, last March I was reviewing the market movers. Those are the stocks with the biggest share price gains or losses, you know. This company Controversial Organics popped out of the list. It had moved up at a spectacular rate because of their break through technology in composting. However, at that moment, it was suffering a little profit taking. This, of course, had been brought on because of the foolish short term perspective of so many investors and traders.

I did my due diligence on their website and saw some favorable comments on some stock message boards so jumped right in with 10,000 shares at

around $12.50. As I predicted, the share price started to stabilize. So I added another 10,000 at $11.00. I had seen some more good PR’s from the company and read some insightful posts from other savvy long investors on that Yahoo CO stock board I’d started to follow. Soon I became a well known voice of expertise and reason on that board. And, oh yes, I’d also had received some very favorable information from CO’s investment relations person down in Texas.”

“Okay, so you’re in for something like a quarter million. This is all your own money. Right?”

“Well yes an no. You see I have power of attorney for my father’s estate. He’s getting rather on in years and a bit out of touch if you know what I mean. So now and again, I try to give him a hand with his finances when I find something particularly interesting like this company.”, answered Hogg.

Remo kept a straight face. He hoped Hogg couldn’t catch Candy’s eyes rolling in his peripheral vision.

“I see. So the investment is actually somewhat larger. How big of a piece of

this hot organic stock did you take for yourself, Mr. Hogg.”

“Actually, that was the whole of it, Mr. Dawg. My own portfolio was, umm, fully invested at the time. It was a rabid bull market so I just used dad’s money for this CO opportunity, you see.”

Remo saw but didn’t comment on what he saw.

“So what happened then, Mr. Hogg?”, probed Remo.

“The market started weakening about that time. Other investors were even taking profit on my ETF’s hence they were going down in price. I think all these economic problems had a lot to do with the growing popularity of that Marxist radical Hussein Obama.”

“And your Controversial Organics?”, probed Remo stifling his bemusement at the man’s more than radical political views.

“Well, the damned fools kept taking profits and the basher manipulators moved in. They were all over the CO stock boards saying CO was a mismanaged scam that they were shorting. How un-American can you

get?”, continued Hogg with growing agitation.

Remo nodded. He knew a good deal of the market. He also knew the size of the portfolio in Hogg’s own name. It wasn’t much. These things he kept to himself as he let Hogg go on.

“These paid bashers were well organized. Their ringleader seemed to be called Ryder though they used many ID’s. I reported them to Yahoo and the SEC, but they did nothing. The government wrote me back about freedom of speech if you can believe that.”, proclaimed Hogg in self-righteous astonishment.

“Do you know the true identity of this Ryder person, Mr. Hogg?”, inquired Remo.

“I tried to find it out but these crooks are clever enough to hide their true identities from honest people they’re victimizing like myself. However, I did take action.”, assured Hogg.

“And that was?”

“I started to use my God given ability to clearly and fully articulate. With my training and background in the financial field, I was always able to refute

the things this gang of thieves were writing on these boards about CO. I wanted to give the whole CO business the proper long term perspective for the average investor if you know what I mean.

I even opened a couple of anonymous ID’s of my own to bash back on this Ryder. He and his gang of paid bashers had victimized me on my Krispy Kreme investment sometime earlier. I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”

Remo was beginning to have enough of Hogg’s massaged version of the truth.

“So just how many of those anonymous ID‘s was that, Mr. Hogg?, asked Remo forcefully, “It‘s crucial you be accurate in all matters if I am to help you.” .

Hogg hesitated at first but finally answered in a low voice., “ Not more than a three or four. I swear. What‘s more they are all well disguised. No one even suspects they are me. I use a variation of my own name for my serious

informative posts - H-O-G-G-E-Y. Sort of humanizes my name and makes me more approachable, you know.

For attack ID‘s I invented a skier who is called Skidaddy by his kids. I also created an Indian-American woman using CO as an investment vehicle to fund her medical school training. Then there was my piece d‘resistance, a University of Colorado student spending his sophomore year in Rijevek -- that‘s Iceland you know -- as my third. I had a guy from Brooklyn too but that didn‘t work out because this Ryder started asking him questions about Brooklyn and….”

Remo could see Candy was about to lose control and shot her a warning glance. Candy quickly excused herself claiming a great need for a glass of water.

The momentary interruption didn’t slow Hogg. He was on a roll now.

“Then, of course, I was clever enough to add a couple ID’s that mimicked that bastard leader of the paid bashers, Ryder. I used Colonryder for his Coinryder and Reamadog for his Remoadog. No one has ever caught on. I use his own ID’s to humiliate him.”

Candy had started to return but caught the last part and ducked back out the door holding her hand over her mouth.

“So you think “remo” is funny, huh”, asked Remo wondering how this fool

could have missed his first name on the office door. “Could he have seen it and possibly be so pointlessly rude?”, he wondered to himself.

“Sure, Mr. Dawg, don’t you. Maybe you don’t get it. Ream a dog like screw a dog. See?”, answered Hogg still seemingly unaware of Dawg’s own first name.

“Oh yea. I get it now.”, offered Remo in a flat voice before going on with his reaction to Hogg’s words thus far.

“There may be something to learn on that CO board but the real issue is Controversial Organics. When Miss Cain gets back, I’ll ask her to have a look at that board. She is a real whiz with the Internet. Now tell me why you think the CO is a fraud when you recently had been so high on it.”

“Actually I don’t think it’s a fraud. Making organic fertilizer out of food waste is going to save the planet. you know. Perhaps, Mister Glibmore, the CEO,

could have done a better job of getting these plants started, but that’s a minor issue in the long run. The real issue is that this bashing by Ryder and his gang has driven the price all the way down to a dollar a share. Despite some averaging down, I’m still bit out of the money if you know what I mean.”

Candy had returned earlier. She took the initiative to ask a question, “I’m sorry, Mr. Hogg, but I understood you to say earlier that the two ten thousand share purchases were your total investment. Did I hear you incorrectly.”

“Perhaps its just semantics, Miss Cain. I try to be careful with literal minded women. Those were my initial aggressive investments. Naturally, I used the dips in the share price to add on in order to protect my dad’s investment.”

“Oh sorry, of course, please forgive my interruption”, returned Candy sounding so sincere.

“So Hogg, just how many shares do you or should I say your dad own as we speak? What’s your basis price? Please be exact. I have to know what the damages are to help.”, said Remo sternly.

“I’m up to 40,000 shares with a basis price just over eight dollars fifty, Dawg, if you must know.”, returned Hogg angrily as if Remo were responsible.

“So forty times seven-fifty. That’s a loss of three hundred thousand at today’s share price on an investment of three-forty, right?”

“Give or take. That’s why I’m so pissed off. Oh, excuse my language, Miss Cain.”, replied Hogg. “And with taxes coming due, dad just may notice. He’s not that out of it. I could be disinherited and have to go back to the pizza comp……. I mean The Street. Sometimes life is just so unfair. Can you help me find that culprit and get my money back, Mr. Dawg?”

Remo paused to think a bit before answering. “You’re a good bit in the hole, Mr. Hogg. You must know and accept that. However, we will see what we can do. I’ll need a bit more from you on the business model of this Controversial Organics.”

“It’s all quite simple, Dawg, if you have a basic understanding of the planet. There is a major food shortage, you know. Soon there will be rioting for food in the streets of every major city in America. You follow me so far?”, started

Hogg with vigor.

“Uh huh.”, replied Remo tentatively.

“Good, so you got that piece. The other crucial issue is that landfills are becoming endemic and pose great dangers for methane explosions which could kill hundreds. Add to that the fact that the nitrogen run off from in-organic fertilizers is creating dead spots in the oceans. These dead spots have no oxygen. They kill off our fish. Still with me?”, continued Hogg seemingly close to ecstatic.

“Keep going, Hogg.”, responded Remo.

“Glad you agree, Dawg. Well, controversial organics is going to solve all them problems with its state of the art organic lawn fertilizer made from food waste. Food waste, you know comprises a forty percent of the garbage that goes to these damned landfills, you know. They‘ve got some advanced new bacteria that gets composting down to six days when it used to take months.”

“So the starving masses going to eat turf grass, Mr. Hogg?”

“Don’t be silly, Dawg.” scolded Hogg returning to his theme. CO’s fertilizers work on cotton too. Yep, can increase cotton yields sixteen percent better than urea. It’s right on their website.

You know how important healthcare is. Don’t ya, Dawg. There is always a need for more cotton at the doctor’s office. Beside the AG market is low margin. Grass is where the margins are. You follow me?”

“Folks gonna get so sick they eat cotton, Mr. Hogg?”, inquired Remo just to

see how far gone into his fantasies Mr. Hogg was.

“Look Dawg, I’m trying to educate you. Don’t be a wise ass. Naturally, it works on some foods too. Take cranberries. What would America do without cranberries. They’re a must at Thanksgiving. Savvy? Now CO has all the organic cranberry farmers on Cape Cod lined up. Think of that!”

“How many would that be Mr. Hog?”, inquired Remo effectively feigning interest.

“Shit. Dawg. How am I supposed to know that. I’m a big picture man not a detail man. So CO has the turf grass and cranberry markets sewed up

fertilizer-wise. Besides, just think how many golf courses there are. Why, I must play on a score of them myself in any given year.”

“You play?”, asked Remo finally generally interested.

“Do I live and breath? Bwa ha ha. Of course, I play. Any real man does. How about you, Dawg? Look to me a little skinny and old for the game.”

“I played a bit in and after college. I can still find the green on a good day.”, replied Remo with false humility. He well knew he wasn’t so far off his pro form of yesteryear.

“Maybe we can find some time and do a little match play. What say, Dawg, Five hundred bucks a hole? Bwa ha ha”, said Hogg complementing his laugh with a leering smile. “Petty cash to a successful guy like you, Dawg. Am I right or wrong?”

“Geez, that’s a lot of money for a bet, Mr. Hogg.”, replied Remo seemingly astonished and earnest.

“Not too confident are ya, Dawg? A thousand a hole make it any easier?

Bwa ha ha.”, mocked Hogg.

“A bit I suppose.”, said Remo going for the kill. “What say to this Friday at two o’clock at TPC Boston. That’s Great Woods you know. I’ve already got that tee time for Miss Cain and myself. It’s our regular pre-weekend treat to ourselves. We’d be glad to have you join us.”

“TPC at Great Woods? You’ve already got a tee time? Bit of a home court advantage don’t ya think, Dawg?”, backtracked Hogg. “Besides it’s way out in some western suburb - Norton as I recall. Moreover, I’m a rather busy….”

“Oh please Mr. Hogg.”, interjected Candy. Remo is such a bastard to me. I’d just love for you to join us and show him how the game is really played. Being a woman is difficult in a man’s sport you know. It’s especially so with Mr. Dawg being my boss. I don‘t dare beat him.”, pleaded Candy in search of an Oscar.

“It’s settled then. We can combine our necessary business with pleasure, Mister Hogg. We’ll need to meet again to go over our findings with you anyway. We should well have something by Friday.

Miss Cain and I, will pick you up and get as all out to Norton in time for

lunch at the clubhouse.

Where ya staying, Mister Hogg? Not that new hotel on the wharf. It’s a dandy and right near Controversial’s office too.”, said Remo shifting the subject to peremptorily close the deal before Hogg could open his mouth.

Hogg was momentarily mute. Soon he realized there was no face saving way out of the golf match so he switched to the hotel question. He managed to indicate he preferred the suburbs and more modest chain hotels where you always knew what to expect of a room to over priced luxury.

“Great Mr. Hogg. As I said, Miss Cain and I should have something on this Controversial Organics matter for ya by then. I’ll be taking any golf losses I incur off your tab if that’s okay with you?”

Hogg looked worried but it wasn’t about the match for the moment. “Actually Davey Winslow, the fellow at the SEC who referred me to you said he’d be picking up your charges.”, ventured Dawg.

“Oh yea. Sorry forgot, Mr. Hogg. I’ll bring some cash then. You too. Never

can tell I just might get lucky. Miracles happen all the time. You know what I

mean?”.

The meeting ended on a quiet note.

============

Candy was kind enough to show Mr. Hogg all the way to the elevator. She even made sure he got on.

On her way back to the office, she fished through her shoulder bag for her sunglasses. She also found a napkin there that suited her plans. Once inside the office, she donned the dark glasses and put the napkin on her head. Properly attired she swished into Remo’s office with an exaggerated wiggle.

Remo took note of her entrance but said nothing waiting for her punch line.

“So you think if I had a faded leisure suit and some lizard skin boots I could pass for Hogg, Remo?”, she teased.

Remo openly looked her up and down for a moment before replying.

“Yea kid, I think you’d have it knocked if only you were wearing a bad fake Rolex.”

Both grinned broadly.

“So, Remo, what the heck are we doing with a client like Hogg? Thought we were a class outfit that dealt only with clever, polished crooks.”, joked Candy.

“I’d ask my contact Davey at The SEC, but he wouldn’t tell me. Let’s just do what Davey is paying us to do for Hogg. We’ll let Davey fit the output into his master plan. We find out about this alleged manipulation by this Ryder and his gang of shorts. We find out what’s really going on with Controversial Organics.”, returned Remo seriously.

“Okay super chief. What’s my role in this?”, asked Candy with equal seriousness.

“For now you take the basher angle. You still got that Tech Tool boyfriend

out in Sunnydale.”, queried Remo.

“Jimmy was never a boyfriend, Remo. He is very sweet and just had, umm, privileges”, responded Candy coyly. “Yea, we’re still in contact.”

“Great, take a look at that CO’s board’s posts and anywhere they lead to see what truth if any there is in Hogg’s complaints. While you’re at it, see if your privileged friend can run down the real identities of any interesting players -- particularly this alleged leader of the pack, Ryder. Meanwhile, I’ll have a far more thorough look at the SEC documents, press releases etcetera of CO. Later we can do some footwork if needed.”

“Sounds like a plan, chief.”

“Good, let’s rendezvous again say tomorrow after lunch and compare notes. Okay by you?”

“Cool by me, Remo. May have to put off my hot stud for tonight but can do.”, quipped Candy.

“Break my heart, beautiful.”, laughed Remo.

“You look a lot prettier when you haven’t worn yourself out with a night of passion, darlin.”, said Remo in greeting.

“Wish I could say the same for you super-stud.”, returned Candy.

“What ya got for me baby?”, questioned Remo turning businesslike in a flash.

“First, let me state the obvious.”, started Candy. “These stock chat boards are full of a lot of crap -- all manner of pumping, bashing, and personal attacks even feuds. Some are funny . Most are not.”, started Candy.

“The first headline is that there is one hell of a feud between Hogg and this Ryder character. It goes back to three years ago on the Krispy Kreme board.

I haven’t done the math, but I’d make a serious guesstimate that between the two of them Hogg and Ryder have a whole lot more than half the ID’s that post on that CO chat board. There are some big differences between

them though.”

“Okay” interjected Remo as encouragement for Candy to continue.

“Ryder is pretty open about his multiple ID‘s. He even flag’s most of his ID’s with a German Shepard in his Avatar, He also signs most of his posts with his nick, “Ryder”, no matter the ID he is using for a post.

It appears Hogg signs some of his own posts with his own ID’s as Ryder also. This is part of his one joke attack on Ryder with these facsimile ID’s -- forgeries really -- of this Ryder’s various ID’s. Hogg said he had a couple, I must have counted at least thirty of these facsimile ID‘s”

“Avatars?”

“Sorry, Reem, I forgot you’re not the Internet junkie I am.

Avatar’s are little cartoon’s you can create to send a message about yourself in you screen name. Some people but not many use photos. Most use either nothing or avatars. The Internet is a world of mystery, duplicity, and deception. LOL. That’s Internet for “laughing out loud”. It’s the number

one cliché in Internet speak.”

“I’m with you now. Thanks. I think.”, smiled Remo.

Okay. By contrast, Hogg denies almost all his ID beyond his Hoggey ID even though very uncharacteristically a score or more other ID’s clearly Hogg’s compliment the hell out of his truly inane Hoggey posts. One even regularly calls him “Professor.”.

“So you think Hogg is writing his own reviews?”, queried Remo

“More than think, Reem, but I’ll get to that in a bit. Okay?.”, responded Candy all business now.

Remo nodded affirmatively, and Candy continued.

“The other thing is this Ryder always wins the battle of wit . I know that is like saying some new stand up guy is funnier than Osama Bin Ladin. Still, this Ryder can be pretty funny while Hogg is gross, lame, repetitive, and false.

Quite the far right winger and bigot too, our boy Hogg. You should see him

on politics and social policy.”

“Kinda got that from his Hussein Obama remark”, interjected Remo with a smile.

The other thing is that when they are trying to be serious about CO. Ryder seems logical and seems to have done his research. I verified a couple sources he mentioned with phone calls. They all checked out. By contrast

Hogg makes up his stuff for the most part. Also, Hogg focuses intentionally or not on mindless irrelevancies in oh so much verbose detail pompously stated to the applause of his in-house rooting section.”

Okay, next headline. Think we‘ve exhausted that one”, prompted Remo.

“Headline two is that Hogg is always wrong. Don’t know how he does it, but he is the world’s worst stock picker. He was a raging bull well into the financial crisis. Also Hogg hates shorts with a passion.

His picks with his six figures ID made him the laughing stock of the several other stock board where people caught on to his retrospective BS and the

disastrous record of his forward looking picks. So many of the latter tanked dramatically within a couple days of him blessing them among his “fab six” or “picks for the year” etcetera --- on which there were countless sometime contradictory posts by Hogg. Looks to me like the feud started because Ryder started tracking Hogg’s claims and energetically blowing them away.

Do they know one another in real life from what you’ve read?”, questioned Remo.

Don’t thinks so. However, Ryder has picked up on Hogg being Haberski and living on the wrong side of Louisville. He even exploded Hogg’s claim to be some sort of print industry magnate by pointing out among other things that the company for which Hogg has a website with him as founder and GM isn’t listed in any phone book.”

Remo smiled, “Bright boy this Ryder.”

Yea, but he is not perfect either. He claims his real identity is some former British pro golfer turned club owner named Derek Moss with a bi-continental life style. Haber-Hogg is all over this again and again and again. Despite wanting Hogg to be wrong, I’ll admit its not very believable particularly for a

guy that also claims to be of University of Chicago business school alumnus. Haven’t checked it out yet but…..”

Remo didn’t hear the rest of Candy’s sentence. His mind was boggled. He well knew a former golf pro with that bio. Not so surprisingly, his name was Derek Moss.

Given their common academic and golf heritage -- probably the only two Booth Chicago - as Chicago’s B-school was now known - grads ever to play on a major pro golf tour. Indeed, that very fact had lead him to look up Derek at his golf club, Silvermere, after finishing up a Bureau assignment in the UK.

He and Derek had immediately taken to one another and stayed in touch over the years even though that had trickled down to exchanging Christmas cards of late.

Remo quickly returned his attention on Candy‘s voice. “………Then there is something called the COIN Bears. Ryder claims it genuine and the couple other alleged bears who have posted just a few times seem to know their stuff. Still, I’m checking on them too.

Then there also is this guy -- ID really -- DaveyW43. He‘s not Ryder, but he plays with the Lizard too.”, she said pausing for a reaction.

“Lizard? Plays? Can ya be a little more clear, Candy?”, asked Remo.

Oh, The Foul Mouthed Lizard is a nickname these two wits have hung on Hogg. Their rationale is that Hogg is such a cold blooded liar with such a bad mouth and no conscience. They are right, of course. At least from what I’ve seen on that chat board and what we’ve both seen in the office. They also have nicknamed him Stinkfingers. Hate to think about their reasoning for that nick. Currently, they sort of evolved his nick into Stinky The Lizard.”

“Yea, better stay away from the derivation of Stinkfingers, gorgeous, or I won’t be able to respect ya anymore.”, interjected Remo with a mischievous chuckle.

Candy acknowledged the corny joke with a smile as she continued. “Ryder even has some neat avatars of the lizard in various silly costumes for some facsimile ID of his own of a few Hoggey‘s ID‘s. In fact, Ryder even claims to have written a novel featuring a foul-mouthed talking lizard he calls StinkFingers. The bits of this novel he shared are quite amusing. He calls it

“Charlie Chan in StinkFingers” From the excerpts he’s posted I’d love to get hold of a copy……… Did I say something funny?” asked Candy puzzled at the sudden smile on Remo’s face.

“No Candy. You’re doing great. You know me and my obsession with detective stories. That one sounds amusing. Please go on.”, covered Remo privately reflecting on another shared passion with his old friend Derek Moss, -- classic detective novels.

“Okay. Well, the word “playing” comes in both with what passes for repartee and the starring. You see Yahoo has this BS star system. One star means you think a post is terrible / off topic and will get a post hidden if enough people rate it such. It’s a rating averaging thing. Pretty handy given all the spam from various stock websites but otherwise mostly useless given the abuse.

In this system, five stars means you think the sun rises and sets on the words of the poster. Now you’re only supposed to rate a post once, but Hogg gets just a little carried away using his many ID’s to multi-star. Hardly anyone bear or bull can post a critical word on CO with out being multi-one- starred obsessively by Hogg. Neither Ryder nor this guy, Davey, can post

anything at all without dozens of one star ratings descending on them in just a few minutes. I’ve seen it just last night with my own eyes. Our Hogg has a lot of time to waste. His numbers have reached as high as a hundred one-stars. That takes time as Hogg has to sign out of one ID into another to do it.

Anyway Ryder and Davey are on to all this and “play” with Hogg in their own unique ways.

Ryder uses what he call protective and corrective multi-five- stars just to keep his posts visible. With a five to one advantage between five-stars and one-stars, Hogg has a hopeless situation but continues on with this obsession day after day after day without fail. Talk about compulsive!”

“Compulsive?”, put in Remo quite seriously. “Or does his have a method to his apparent madness?”

“Thought about that, Reem.”, returned Candy again evaluating that possibility. “His Hoggey ID and his SkiDaddy ID put out some pretty wild-ass favorable rumors. I’ve just been thinking that he’s doing that to help the price of his CO shares. Think there is more to it, Reem?”

“Maybe. Maybe not, Candy. There is just something so damn dishonest about that parody of a man we met. I can’t help but wonder….Don’t let me interrupt you. We can come back to that later.”, replied Remo his instincts searching for some support.

“Okay, Reem.“ started Candy as she resumed her report. “On the other hand, Davey seems to use but the one ID and plays it differently. Calls it giving the lizard exercise. He posts. Hogg almost immediately applies at least the three one-stars from three different Hogg ID’s necessary to establish a one-star rating. Once Davey sees he’s been one starred, Davey just reposts the same one liner about exercising the lizard and Hogg reciprocates with three or more one-stars. I’ve seen where this Davey plays with The Lizard this way for over an hour. Hogg just won’t quit. It’s a wonder his fingers don’t fall off with all the signing in and out of ID’s he must be doing.”, finished Candy shaking her head in bemusement.. “They’re all crazy.” she concluded with a smile.

“Sounds just like the fool Hogg we met yesterday to me.”, returned Remo with a mischievous smile. “So, Candy, is Sunnydale Jim putting out on helping you with some secret Yahoo ID identity checking?, queried Remo.

“Very funny, Reem.” returned Candy sarcastically somewhat annoyed at his play on words. Then she responded ever the professional. “But yea. Every computer has a UPC number. It’s supposed to be very secret, but Jimmy has access to them for their posters. That’s how I know which ID’s are truly Hogg, this Ryder/Moss character, or neither.

Like I said I’m still trying to find confirmation on Moss’s ID. No listed phones and such. Think he’s too clever to go for the please reply now offer in the mail routine. Besides that takes a while.”

“Where does this Ryder nickname come from anyway?”

“That bit of trivia is easy. Ryder started out as “Truth_justice_and“. Just had that one ID for a long time. In one post, he mentioned rooting for the European side in the Ryder Cup. Hogg went ballistic with anti-British golf stuff. So Mr. Truth (as Ryder often used to call himself) invented a Ryder_Cup_Fan ID. True to form, Hogg went wild with abuse and similar ID’s. The great ID war was on. The nickname name Ryder stuck.”

Remo reflected on the yearly solicitation he received to support the European Ryder Cup team. They were the standard form stuff, but each

always had a witty hard-written tongue in cheek message signed “Derek” addressed to him urging support for “the better side”.

There was no doubt in Remo’s mind that this creature of the Internet was his old friend, Derek Moss. Remo was relieved he hadn’t yet heard anything

negative about his old friend now calling himself Ryder other than the somewhat obsessive nature of this petty feud with Hogg.

Remo smiled to himself. He well knew Derek was a diehard competitor. From what he knew of Hogg, Ryder had well chosen an enemy for a feud. Remo himself had wanted to wring his fool neck himself on first meeting him yesterday. Already, he was “playing with him” himself with this sucker golf bet he’d hustled him into.

This could be interesting if a bit tricky. He couldn’t let on to Candy that he knew the guy. That would violate his own “prime directive“. His personal life and his PI life must never cross. Candy couldn’t learn about his pro golf, and Chicago background much less his real name.

Remo thought to himself he’d love to take Derek into his confidence and see

him again. The lanky Brit was always good company and might well have some good information. He’d have to think about the possibility of taking this rare exception to his number one rule. Beyond seeing his old friend, the guy was sharp and could be very helpful.

Still, Remo first had to be sure he was a hundred percent clean. He couldn’t

imagine otherwise. However, when mob types have a price on your head, you tend to be obsessively careful about your own secret new identity.

“Great work, Candy. Let’s take a break and get back together a bit later this afternoon to go over what I’ve learned about CO. You check out the real identities of these allegedly manipulating bears and such, and I’ll look into this Ryder/Moss character for ya.”, stated Remo.

“Hey, I’m a big girl, Remo. I can handle the research on him too.”, reacted Candy a bit defensively as Remo was clearly trespassing on the turf he’d allotted her earlier. “You don’t even know from what I’ve said that he claims to be living in Florida these days.”

That bit too re-confirmed Remo’s conclusion. He had the address.

“Hey Candy. You know I’m a golf and mystery nut. This guy intrigues me. My friends in D.C. can look him up for me.”, lied Remo well knowing he had no need of his D.C. friends. He had his old friend’s Florida address and un listed phone number in his personal cell.

Candy gave him a quizzical look but kept her thoughts to herself. She

suspected Remo had some hidden agenda here, but it wasn’t her place to question her boss on this call.

=============

Candy Cain wasn’t surprised to see Remo’s “do not disturb light go on her intercom unit. Remo often used it because he was very sensitive about the privacy of his investigative conversations. She was rather surprised that his line light wasn’t blinking also. However, she gave it next to no thought. She had plenty of her own work to do.

As soon as Candy had left, Remo had turned on the do not disturb light and headed for the autographed photo of Ben Hogan over his credenza. Behind that picture was a safe. In that safe, he found one of his personal cell

phones registered in his birth name. Derek Moss’s numbers were in its directory. Soon, Derek’s number was ringing.

=======================

“Hello”, came a deceptively laid back baritone voice.

“Hey, Two-Putt. It’s been a while between conversations.”, piped Derek cheerfully recognizing that melodious voice in a flash.

“Hey yourself, Matthew, old son.” came a quick reply. “Need a foursome.?”

“Not all that far off, Derek. How you and Diana been doing?”, returned Derek referring to the stunning former journalist that he assumed was still Derek’s bride.

“Hey, we’re great, Matt. The kids too. What brings on this pleasure? It’s not my birthday is it?”, joked Derek. You still with Big Brother? Not my taxes is it? They’re square I swear, officer.”

“No its not your birthday nor your taxes, Derek. Left Big Brother a bunch of years ago though I’m still sort of in the information business.”

“That so. What kind of information you looking for. Can I help?”

“Heard you know a lot about a company called Controversial Organics. That name ring a bell, Derek?

“Your ear must have been in some strange places, old son, to have heard that. But its true. It is or was a puffed up penny stock on which I did quite well as a short. Even tithed to our alma matter. Paid Uncle his due too. I still follow it for fun though my money in it is made.”, replied Derek openly.

The conversation went on for some time about Controversial Organics and its stock, CO. Remo reheard everything wrong with the company that he’d deduced on his own from reading the file of SEC filings, PR’s, and news articles. There was no question but that intellectually Derek was still his old self. Despite being sixty-three Derek was far from lapsing into senility as Hogg often foolishly posted sixty-three year olds do. Derek knew every bit about Controversial Organics that Remo knew plus a good deal more from some private conversations he’d had with parties mentioned in the CO press

releases.

“Wouldn’t have run into a guy named Haberski in your CO travels would ya have, Derek?”

“You mean Stinky, The Lizard of the CO chat boards.”, replied Derek mirthfully. “Yea, more than run into him, I’ve run over him time and again and again and again. He’s a bloody idiot that’s been stalking me across

several stock chat boards for years. I doubt he ever invests. He just obsessed with being a jerk and opposing all shorts. He thinks shorting un-American. How do you know this clown?”

“Some friends were reading the CO board and your name and his came up.”, answered Remo intentionally vague.

“Any of those umm friends of yours work around DC?”, probed Derek in return.

“Some might.”

“You’re not investigating me I should hope.”, asked Derek ready to be astonished.

“Yes and no, Derek. Mostly no. Some friends thought I should help Hogg (Haberski to you) find out why he lost what we’ll politely call a bundle of family money on this rather questionable investment.

As you can imagine from reading his posts, Hogg doesn’t really have that many friends that truly want to help. Still, some in DC apparently do find it potentially useful to help Hogg investigate this matter. As you know our friends in D.C. aren’t usually so helpful to folks without a reason. I have no need to know why. Do I make myself clear while being obtuse?”

“Crystal clear, Matt. And my name comes up as he public enemy number one of Hogg on the CO board?”

“Yea, that’s basically it, Two Putt. You still look like a clean old man to me but had to ask. By the way, you still deserve that nickname, “two putt” they gave you on the European tour?”

“Watch that old stuff, Matt. Get enough of that from Stinky The Lizard. He’s

convinced I’m old, senile, and infirmed beyond my years. As to “Two Putt” I don’t hear that nick much any more since I’ve long since graduated from player to course owner. Yea, I still sink the long ones rather regularly. They tell me I still hold the lifetime record for lowest number putts per round. If only my long irons had been so accurate. And yes too I’m still playing pretty well. These new hybrids have helped me a lot with those shots for which I use to use my nemesis, the long iron.”

How about you?”, returned Derek dropping the matter of his old friend spying on him in favor of one of their common passions.

Remo was satisfied. He was sure he could still trust Derek.

“Tell ya what Two Putt, I’m playing some golf with Hogg and my partner on Friday afternoon. Could be interesting. At Hogg’s behest, we have a thousand dollar a hole wager. Say’s he’s a crack player. Or, at least he did till I accepted his challenge and the wager. I‘m sure he never dreamed I would being old and skinny to his jaundiced eye per his flapping abusive mouth.”

“I’m still young enough to fly, old son.”, exploded Derek’s usually calm

voice. “Ya just have to get me on that course with him, old son. This is something I have to see for myself -- Haberski in real life playing golf no less.”

Remo chuckled. He’d expected no less.

“Your clubs fly too, Two Putt?”, replied Remo, “Just might be able to fit you in our foursome if you could act the part of a filthy rich real estate friend who sometimes does investigatory work for me for the fun of it. My delightfully beautiful partner, Candice, might just whisper in the Hogg’s ear that you’re a rich duffer and compulsive gambler if a hell of a nice guy.”

“Where we playing?” asked Derek without a second’s hesitation.

“Great Woods in Norton at 2 PM Friday. Sorry but you’ll have to get your own ride. Candy and I will be bringing Hogg. Its best you already be there so we don’t look too close.”

“I’m cool with your game, Matt. I’ll be there with cleats on.”

“Wear ballet shoes for all care, Derek, but can the Matt stuff. From now on

I’m Remo Dawg short for Dawgouski, and we’re all on the payroll of Baltic Imports. Don’t worry Baltic is legit even if it doesn‘t import anything. It’s just a cover for Remo Dawg P.I. Services which even pays its taxes. Don’t slip up even with Candy. Forget my real name like my life depended on it. It does. Some old mob foes from my Bureau days have long memories. Savvy?”

“Sure. I savvy, Remo.”, replied Derek seriously.

“Great, Derek. Just one thing important but a lot less so. Don’t get suckered into any serious betting against Candy. She is a scratch golfer with a big the age advantage on the both of us. She was captain of the lady’s golf team

at U Mass when they won some championship. Careful she does a great “aw shucks I’m just a novice.” Don‘t fall for it. The girl is beautiful but can be devious and venal.”

Both men had a good laugh then covered some details.

==================

Meanwhile, in the wharf loft across town that served as the HQ of

Controversial Organics, there was a much less cordial conversation among some of its key executives.

“What the fuck is it with you, Jimbo? You told me this guy Hogg was a paid pumper we could trust. Not only does he make himself friggin obvious on that chat board with his stupidity, but I found out last week he went to the SEC.

Now today, I get this letter from him. The friggin idiot is trying to extort money from us. Doesn’t he know who we are?”, raved Big Ed Glibmore, president of Controversial Organics at his top IR/PR exec.

“Don’t know why he ain’t showing respect, Big Ed.. He’s under a lot of pressure like we all are with the falling stock price. Those warrants I paid him with aren’t worth shit today as we all know.”, whined Jimbo

“Didn’t you give him the word on selling them back last Spring?”, demanded Big Ed.

“Of course I did, Big Ed. But the asshole was so excited about his “big chance to score” that I don’t think he listened. Then he got into this pissing

contest on the chat board with this God damn short, Ryder. He got so aroused by that he started believing his own bull-shit rhetoric. I hear he even invested the family jewels in our play rather than selling the warrants like he was supposed to.”, returned Jimbo in a rather weak defense of his judgment in recruiting Hogg as a paid pumper.

Big Ed was even more enraged. “Jesus Christ, can’t anyone in this company do anything right? First its our acting CFO, Contessa, with the warrant filing. Then our Chief Technology Officer, Pete, gets caught spiking our California organic shit with chemical fertilizer. Then that Rhode Island pol we took care of becomes a self proclaimed spokesperson for things we been trying to

keep quiet like him being an invisible partner. This is not to mention that you, Jimbo, haven’t been exactly winning popularity awards among our shareholders.”

The three other faces at the table looked toward their shoes with about as much success as they’d had in the CO jobs to date.

“Jesus freaking Christ, now we have our paid pumper trying to shake us down.” continued Big Ed on a roll.

“Maybe I can help”, interjected Sammy the Weasel but Big Ed’s ears were

closed as he raged on.

“…….If the senator hears about this latest fuck up, we all could end up in the harbor.”, concluded Big Ed.

“You know we ain’t suppose to mention the senator, Big Ed.” observed his CFO, Contessa.

“Shut the fuck up, Contessa. Right now, I don’t give a God damn who your uncle is. No disrespect intended…. This ain’t exactly a public meeting. I’ll say what I want here….. Sorry, Sammy you was sayin something?”

“Just offered my services, boss. Seems to me there is only one way to plug de chance for a big leak Hogg represents. I hurd he is in town with that private dick, Dawgouski”, returned The Weasel.

“Hmm, is that so?…..Let me think about it…….”

==============

Not far away in a nearby loft amid whirling tape recorders, Agents Martin and Scanlan took note of the conversation.

“Sounds like bye bye to the Hogg to me.”, remarked Scanlan

“Wouldn’t sell him any life insurance.”, replied Martin.

“Suppose we should do something to help.”, returned Scanlan.

“Think of the paperwork. We both listened in on the tap of Dawg with Hogg the other day with Marks and Applegate. He ain’t worth the effort.”,

concluded Martin.

“I kinda hoped to see how he does on his bet with Dawg. Think he’s got till Friday?” asked Scanlan hopefully.

“Yea, me too on their bet. I’ve got a twenty myself on Dawg by five holes with Marks. Let’s see how it goes.”

==================

Remo and Candy had been going over the CO information for about and hour and had no question the company was a disaster. They’d totally agreed that the company was either a scam or the worst managed company in America. Candy suggested she do a little “on the scene” digging at the HQ to see if she could unearth some stuff to point them to the more correct of

the two possibilities.

“The Feds must know all this, Remo, its so darned obvious. Let me do some digging over in North Boston to see what I can pick up. Also I can pick up some of their product at the Lowes out by me. I understand they are still the

only store stocking CO products.”, offered Candy

“Sounds right but be careful. These may just be some local fools, but they could be the boys. You know who I mean.”, cautioned Remo.

“Read you loud and clear, Reem. I’ll watch my back.”, replied Candy.

“Before you go. How’d you make out with the real identities of those other chat board posters you were checking on?, asked Remo.

“They all looked AOK, Remo.”, returned Candy. “Cesars.wife is a Natalie

Rosario, Chicago B-school class of ’70. She is now married to a Victor Cesar. They live in Westchester. Natalie was something of a girl wonder as an analyst with Goldman. She retired at 45 with a bundle some years ago. I spoke with her. She’s a nice lady, I played it pretty straight with her. She did the same with me. She confirmed just about everything we know and added some color.

Skeptical.trader is a William Ramsey, Chicago B-school class of ‘70. He’s currently President of a major airline. He wasn’t so open but certainly sounded like a savvy if cynical investor. He says their group which isn’t officially called the COIN Bears have done very well shorting a good number of obviously troubled companies with different kinds of cult followings like this one. He says he doesn’t know and doesn’t care if it’s a fraud. All he cared about is that it was a puffed up penny stock that never should have risen above a couple dollars on its best day.

There really weren’t many other posters who posted original stuff on the short side on a frequent basis. There weren’t many besides Hogg’s ID’s on the long side and few of them were very frequent either nor did more that chant the mantra about saving the planet and CO’s concept getting paid to take raw material with tipping fees was unique. Blah blah.”

“Actually, there is one exception to what I just said.” Candy added after a moment. “There is this Dunno character who is a rabid long poster. I don’t use the word “rabid” casually. At first, I suspected he was another Hogg ID, but he posts from a different computer and his ID “I. Dunno Doya” is close to his real name if you can believe. He is a fantasy war games fanatic too. Always looking for the cheat sheets. Anyway he, mostly leads the chanting of the mantra on the Yahoo CO board and some other chat boards dedicated to CO. He even created his own rather elaborate CO investor web site. All his stuff is laced with fanatic global warming and save the planet propaganda. His idea of what is relevant to CO is pretty darned broad to say the least.

This Dunno claims to have lost a bundle on COIN. Yet blames just about everyone but himself including his online discount broker and, of course, Ryder. I suspect he is harmless as well as clueless, but one never knows do one?”

“I dunno”, replied Remo with a smirk. They both chuckled.

It was Remo’s turn to share.

“This Derek Moss and I also hit if off extremely well. He truly is a former pro golfer and a mystery fanatic like me all right and just a generally nice guy to talk with. He is Chicago B-school class of ‘70 too. I found him so comfortable I asked him to join us for Friday’s little golf outing. He jumped at the chance to meet The Lizard.”, offered Remo.

“Is that wise, Reem? Those two hate each other with a passion. There could be blood on the grass if they get face to face.”, replied Candy

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem, Candy, providing we both play by my rules. We must keep Moss’s identity a secret. I spoke with him a good long time. He’s a pretty laid back and rational guy. Hogg may hate him, but he doesn’t even consider Hogg human enough to hate. Moss considers him just an amusement to pass some time. That’s why he invented the Lizard nickname for him.

Beside, he says Hogg has done him nothing but good (if one could ignore the few thousand mindlessly lame insulting posts) Moss said Hogg pointed out some great shorting ideas by pumping them as investments and even

inspired him to write that Charlie Chan story with the lizards. I’m cool with a tete a tete from the Moss standpoint.

Candy wasn’t totally happy, but knew enough to trust Remo’s judgment. She also suspected he might be holding back.

“From now on even in our private conversations the name Derek Moss is verboten.” announced Remo. “Moss is our new sometimes associate a very rich duffer golfer named Mathew Majors with a background in real estate. Anything he says that sounds British we attribute to a funny New Hampshire accent. Hogg won’t know the difference. You with me?”, concluded Remo.

“Pretty much. But what’s with the duffer bit? Thought you said he was truly a retired pro. Surely your not…..”

Candy didn’t bother to finish her thought noting a shit eating grin on Remo’s face.

“It’s okay with me, boss. This is going to be fun.”, agreed Candy without finishing her previous thought. Now she too wore a shit eating grin.

“Yea, all work and no play makes for a unprofitable day. Right?”, added Remo still grinning before again turning serious.

“So it looks like Hogg’s assertion that this company’s stock was manipulated from that CO board is baseless as well as pointless. The company is a disaster on fundamentals and common sense. This stock is just getting the treatment it well deserves. Any manipulation was done on the front end for it ever to gotten into the high teens in the first place.” concluded Remo for the two of them.

“Yep.”, replied Candy wholeheartedly seconding Remo’s conclusion.

Okay, Candy, guess class is dismissed. Again, you be careful. I’m really not sure what you’ll find in North Boston.

=================

While Candy was driving to North Boston, a meeting for which she would have loved to be a fly on the wall was moving to a significant conclusion.

“Jesus frigging Christ, Jimbo, when you gonna start giving them investor inquiries some decent answers and writing press releases that move the

stock up rather than down?, raged Big Ed.

“I always write them back to call me when they email me, Big Ed. You know I don’t write or at least sign any PR’s or emails. Nobody is gonna send me up the river for that misleading in writing.”, returned Jimbo in a fit of unfortunate emotion.

“Our “answer man” doesn’t want to get his fingers dirty. Ya hear that, Sammy. Maybe if he had some right answers we wouldn’t be in this penny stock situation. Just last night, I read on the friggin CO board that this prize paid basher of his is calling for my resignation. You with us or against us, Jimbo, for Christ’s sake?”

“You know I do my best, Big Ed. This guy Hogg is just out of control. I’ve talked with him plenty, but he’s somehow got the idea that our play is the best investment that’s ever come down the pike. The guy has turned into a nut case. Whatever Sammy has to do is fine by me.”, retorted Jimbo.

“Ya hear that, Sammy? Jimbo has given us his permission to whack the Hogg. Ain’t it nice he is so benevolent? Like I need his friggin permission!”, returned Big Ed angrily.

Sammy just flashed his impression of a weak smile and nodded in

agreement. He knew better than to express anything more when Big Ed was really pissed off.

“On the other hand, Jimbo is right on this one issue. Hogg’s got to go. You have a line on where he’s staying yet, Sammy?”

“Yea, Big Ed. I put the word out yesterday for our people to be on the lookout for a little loud mouth with greenish skin and a bad rug. Just to be prepared, ya know.

Louie, the Fish says he’s checked in at his place, Holiday’s Inn, over in Charlestown. Louie says the punk has been telling some of the girls he runs out of that place that he’s gonna be coming into some big money.”, returned Sammy crisply.

“We don’t want to dirty Louie’s front lawn but sounds like a good place for a snatch.”, replied Big Ed.

“Would have thought so too, boss, but Louie tells me some dark suits

checked in yesterday. They are either watching or covering the Hogg. But don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

“I know I can rely on you Sammy. Let’s just go over that plan in private. No offense, Jimbo.”, commanded Big Ed.

“Sure, Big Ed, no problem.”, replied Jimbo rising and heading for the door glad for the chance to get out of Ed’s angry presence.

Ed called him back. “Jimbo, don’t act so hurt. I gotta talk tough sometimes to make you guys understand. Always remember, we’re all family here. Come and give us a big hug.”, called Big Ed.

When he’d gone and the door was again closed, Ed took a long look at Sammy.

“I don’t need to know nothing about your plan, Sammy. You’re a professional. You’ve never let me down. It’s Jimbo that worries me. He’s worried me for some time as you can probably understand.”, started Big Ed.

Sammy just nodded.

“It’s best when we take action we get it all done and over with at the same time if you follow my drift. Jimbo knows far too much and is too damned

good at covering his own ass. Got me?”

“As good as done, boss.”, replied Sammy.

“Before you say goodbye to him, make sure you know everything he knows about things -- especially this Hogg asshole.”, added Big Ed.

==============

Not far away….

“Sounds like they made Jackson and Colletti at that hotel.”, observed Agent Scanlon.

“Not the first time. These younger guys just don’t have the smarts of our generation.”, replied the senior agent. Martin

“Not any doubt left about the intent here. We could bust these boys right

now.”, returned Scanlon

“Nah, we both old enough to know its better to let them sort out their own problems. Less paperwork. Less trial expense. We got what we need to clean up the mess when its over.”, pronounced Martin.

===================

Candy Cain loved to put her new British racing green Mazda X-19 through its paces on the windy, hilly, narrow streets of North Boston passing many well known Italian eateries and cafes nearly vacant at this hour. There were faster routes to the wharf, but Candy preferred the windy “back way”. It was a beautiful spring day. She had her top down and was pleased that the forecast was the same for the rest of the week.

Candy had little trouble finding the address. The building was a renovated old warehouse now serving as the home of a trendy bistro she knew with offices above. Given the hour, Candy assumed the two late model Cadillacs in the parking lot were associated with the offices rather than the café -- maybe some wealth lawyer. She easily found a space for her Mazda then entered the building without a firm plan in mind.

Candy was pleased to discover the building’s directory was somewhat beyond the elevator. It was not the most easy thing to find, but Candy really didn’t need it. She knew Controversial was on the top floor. However, the

hard to find directory gave her an idea. She noted the name of a law firm, Goldman & Berstein, on the second floor. Then she went to the elevator and pressed four.

The building was far from humongous and pleasant enough given its recent conversion. Candy easily found a door with a Controversial Organics name plate on it. She walked right in with her eyes ready to take in everything to be seen.

She was in luck. The receptionist was a member of the pretty girl club about her age. Candy had hoped she’d be. she noted the modest size of the offices with its lone receptionist in what passed for a tiny reception area. Candy planned subtly to beg a favor of her fellow club member using “club-speak”.

“Oh hi. Maybe you can help me. I’m supposed to have a job interview with Goldman and Bernstein. It’s a law firm. I thought it were on this floor but can’t seem to find that name on a door. I feel such a dufuss”, said Candy

seeming concerned she’d miss her interview but smiling none the less.

The very pretty receptionist smiled back. “Gee, I really don’t know that name. I’m pretty sure there is a directory just passed the elevator in the

lobby. Did you check that?”

“Gee, thanks. I must have missed it. That should work.”

“Easy too do. It’s small. Are you a lawyer?”

“Me? Oh no. Just an out of work paralegal. Say that’s a lovely necklace. Where did you get it?”

“Gee thanks I really like it. My BF gave it to me for Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re lucky. My BF spends all his money on his car.”, replied Candy with an ironic smile. “Not sure he is a keeper if you know what I mean.”

“My name is Maria. Yes, I know what you mean. I once was married to someone who wasn’t a keeper. That’s for sure.”

Both women shared something between a grimace and a chuckle.

“Oh. I really like your suit. Must have cost you a fortune that‘s why I guessed you were a lawyer.”, continued Maria.

“I’m Carmen. Thanks on the suit. You’d be amazed how little I paid. I know this great outlet store on Boylston. They have some great stuff and wonderful prices if you have the patience to go back a time or two till they have what you want.”

“Really! What’s it called?”, asked Maria excitedly.

“Maxine’s Fashions. It’s tucked away on a second floor, but It’s in the phone book. It’s easy to find if you’re looking.”, counseled her new friend, Candy.

A very well-dressed, hard looking, wiry man in his late forties came out of one of the offices and passed close by Candy giving her a wordless serious up and down lecherous look before he exited the office.

The women exchanged knowing looks but said nothing.

“Nice to have met you, Maria, but I better be going. My interview is in a few minutes at four-thirty….. By the way is your firm hiring? I always ask.”

“Sorry no. In fact I think I’m may be leaving soon. We’re having a lot of cut backs. I‘m really kinda worried because jobs are so tight everywhere right

now.”, replied Maria looking rather downcast.

“Gee, I’m sorry to hear that, Maria. I may have a tip for you. I’m supposed to start a receptionist job for my uncle’s company next week as a temporary thing till I can get a paralegal job. If this Goldman thing works out, I could mention you to my uncle.”, offered Carmen nee Candice.

“Would you? Gee thanks, Carmen. That would be great. Good luck to both of us. I hope I see you later.”, responded Maria clearly pleased.

================

Candy tried to make herself as little noticed as possible as she drifted between the lobby and the parking lot. She hoped Maria wouldn’t leave too early. She assumed paralegal job interviews were supposed to take a while.

Not for the first time, she was well pleased with her improvisational performance. Given her earlier success, she was confident she could carry off the rest of it.

It was getting toward five-thirty. A good number of people had already left.

None seem to take any special notice of her beyond a friendly nod or smile. Candy was checking her face needlessly as an excuse for being there for the fourth time should Maria suddenly appear when Maria came out of the elevator with a man. Candy’s heart dropped for a second, but Maria’s fellow passenger just cruised on by while Maria smiled and said, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, Maria. I was hoping you hadn’t left yet and was about to come up to see for myself. Guess what?”

“You got the job!” returned Maria with a hint of a squeal.

“I start a week from Monday. I’m so excited.”, gushed Candy. “Tell you what. Why don’t we have a victory glass of wine in the bistro here. I’ll tell you about my uncle too.”

“Great, Carmen. I can’t stay too long but want to share your moment and

learn about your uncle.”, returned Maria enthusiastically

The women got on well. Candy spun a great story about her uncle’s marketing business. They exchanged worst date ever stories and such. Candy truly liked Maria. She made a mental note to think where she could

find “an uncle with a job” for her when she had time to concentrate. Candy

took her pretty girl club membership responsibilities very seriously.

When Candy felt their report had been well established she turned toward her real agenda. “I hope that creepy lecher leaving your office wasn’t your boss.”

“No, he’s some sort of advisor. I’m not even sure of his real name. I heard him called weasel once, but I’m quite sure that’s not it.”, smiled Maria unsuspectingly.

“It would pretty well fit from what I saw.” giggled Candy.

Maria joined in. “Yea, I guess so. He comes in maybe three or four days a week but never spends a full day and never gives me any work except a

couple times asking me for coffee. Go figure.”

“Sounds like a good job to me.”, smiled Candy.

“There are others there with better.” laughed Maria.

“How do you mean?”, asked Candy cocking her pretty head just enough to express curiosity.

“I’m told most of these guys work from home offices or are permanently on the road. I’ve never seen most of them. They never come into the office. What a racket…”, continued Maria

“Really!”, interjected Candy her eyes wide.

“Yep, I just answer their calls and send them emails with the messages. You’d think just once they’d call to say thank you. Still, I have no complaints. I’m sorry the company is going bust.”

“Going bust?”, asked Candy with an “oh no” intonation.

“Oh, I don’t know for sure, Carmen.” continued Maria. But I do know that even those that aren’t being laid off are taking fifty percent pay cuts. Then there is all this stuff in their news releases about refinancing, refinancing, and more refinancing. It can’t be good. Can it?”

Candy backed off so as not to appear too interested. She assumed from her comments Maria really didn’t know much about the inner workings of CO‘s finances. She made a few parries to check on her assumption over their next half hour together. Maria didn’t seem to take any notice but really had nothing more of interest for Candy/Carmen.

They parted as bosom buddies. Candy headed for the Lowes then for home.

It was a bright and sunny spring morning in D.C.. With his three terms of seniority, Senator Tony Giordello had a great view of The Mall. He had glimpsed at it briefly before sitting down to a busy day of work about two hours ago. He had yet to take a break.

Tony had a great reputation as a champion or the poor, champion of the unions, and champion of the environment which he had long cultivated. In reality, Tony didn’t care that much about any of them. He was the champion of Tony Giordello. Still, he played as his Senator role with great vigor and some success while discretely accepting good fortune when it happened to come his way.

The Senator rang for his personal assistant, sometimes speech writer, and chief gate keeper, Mavis Reed. They had been a team for over ten years which was a life time in many Washington offices. Mavis did good work and they had a very built comfortable relationship over the years.

Mavis appeared promptly and accepted a sheaf of papers and instructions from her boss. When it appeared he’d given his last instruction, Mavis asked

if the Senator was now courting Massachusetts’s cowboy constituency.

“The Senator looked back up from the papers to which he’d already returned to give his long time assistant one of his trademark smiles.

“Okay Mavis, let’s have the punch line. It better be good. This is a busy day with the hearings this afternoon.”, he offered not unkindly.

“Only a hint of a joke, Senator. Just before you called me in here, a tall fella with a string tie and a cowboy hat asked to see you. He said his name is James Blackwood. He doesn’t have an appointment but says he knows you’ll want to see him. Says its about some contribution matter.”

The Senator knew no James Blackwood, but he did know a Texan named Jimbo who’d probably wear his cowboy hat to the gates of Hell..

“Oh yes, Jim. Tell him I can give him just a minute then show him in and shut the door.”, instructed the Senator in his usual deceptively relaxed tone.

Mavis did as she was told. Soon the man the Senator knew as Jimbo was standing in his office. The Senator held his finger to his lips indicating

silence and motioned Jimbo to his private washroom. Once inside, the Senator shut the door and turned on the faucets full blast. That accomplished he lowered the toilet seat cover and sat down.

“Sorry I can’t offer you a seat, Jimbo. I don’t hold many meetings in here. What the hell are you doing here? Your people know that I’m never to be contacted this way.”, scolded the Senator forcefully.

“I’m sorry, Senator. This is something of an emergency.”, started Jimbo. “We need to be included in some of this green funding. It’s now or never. We’re really up against the wall on cash. With our share price in the toilet, we can’t raise equity by going to the market no matter how imaginative we are.”

The Senator hadn’t thought of CO in a while. He was something of a silent and invisible partner. When he last spoke with Big Ed he’d been assured that everything was pretty well okay though a little extra cash from an earmark could only be helpful. Jimbo’s view was far different and likely more accurate. The senator didn’t like what he’d just learned on several levels.

“I’ve had this discussion before with Ed. It’s impossible. The new administration has strict guidelines and vets everything. Controversial is not going to pass any vetting committee unless its made up of twelve year old girl scouts. Does Ed know you’re here?”

“Actually, no. I came here on my own initiative to reason with you. We were strong supporters of your last campaign and…..”

“Look Jimbo. Sometimes I can do the improbable but this request is impossible in any form. I don’t do the impossible.”, cut in the Senator sharply.

“I hear ya, Senator but it would help me a lot with Big Ed. He’s got it in for

me right now for some reason. I’ve been a good friend to your campaigns even before CO.”, pleaded Jimbo.

“Same answer, Jimbo. Sorry, but I just can’t help. Also I am very busy particularly today. Let’s go back to my desk. Not a word. I’ll have Mrs. Reed show you out.”

==============

He did what?, said Big Ed in astonishment into his confidential mobile phone. It was a prepaid cell not in the name of anyone real.

“Like I said, our friend with the J went into the Capital Office Building about a half hour ago. I’m still waiting for him to come out.”, returned the familiar deadly serious voice.

Big Ed understood the import of that information. He knew what his PR guy, Jimbo, didn’t. Any hold he had on The Senator was nominal if the company went south unless he wanted to turn state‘s evidence which he was sure he didn‘t.

“This is not good.”, commented Big Ed. You know who J saw?

“You know da one.”, returned the deadly serious voice.

“Let me think a minute.”, replied Big Ed.

There had been disinformation about campaign contributions to the senator for the ears of those on the fringes of his inner group such as Jimbo who had no real need to know the truth of the senator’s relationship with CO.

In fact, no contributions were ever given to the senator. The real hold on the senator was his twenty percent stake in the company’s New Jersey subsidiary which owned their primary if unfinished plant. However, that stake was held by The Senator through nearly untraceable surrogates. The Senator was a very careful man.

“I told Jimbo he wasn’t to talk to the senator. Even if the senator called him, he was suppose to keep his mouth shut and refer him to me. What the fuck did that idiot Jimbo spill to the Senator?“, silently asked Big Ed of himself.

Big Ed’s unhappy reverie continued “If the senator got a whiff of the gravity of our financial and other problems…. If the senator lost confidence in the value of his stake…..If the senator now felt himself threatened with possible exposure….if if if.”

All Big Ed‘s “if’s” got the same answer from Big Ed. The senator would cut Controversial and Big Ed off at the knees through his position on the judiciary committee to distance himself if need be. Big Ed well knew the senator took no prisoners when it came to covering his own ass.

“Things have to happen fast.”, returned Big Ed

“Things will happen today. No problem.”, returned Sammy before they disconnected.

=================

Earlier that day in Back Bay.

“You look tired, sexy. Had a busy night?”, quipped Remo in greeting to Candy.

You don’t know the half, Remo. But the results are all good.”, returned Candy.

“Good for you, good for me, or good for Mr. Hogg?”

“Two out of three isn’t bad, I hope. Good for us, wise guy. First I had a fairly informative hour of wine and cheese with Glibmore’s receptionist, Maria.”, returned Candy.

“Didn’t know you knew her.”, interrupted Remo.

“I didn’t. Will you let me finish without any more wise cracks? I got lucky with a pretty girl’s club routine and…

She saw Remo ready to pounce on that with a question or comment.

“Don’t even ask. The point is we got friendly and schmoozed for an hour over drinks. I picked up some interesting things. First, one of their “advisors” at HQ is a mean looking letch with the nickname weasel. He spends part of three/four days in the office. Maria doesn’t even know what the heck he does for the company. I also picked up that she has seen but few of the executive team. They all work she is told, “out of their homes or are permanently on the road.“. She emails them their messages. They never call in or come in.”.

Remo listened intently as she told him first about the phantom executive team then about the only three office doors she’d seen within the small HQ office and her other observations. When she’d finished Remo offered that this didn’t look good for truth, justice and the American way. These guys smelled dirty. Candy nodded in agreement.

“By the way, Reem. You got any friends that need a smart pretty receptionist?”, asked Candy in earnest.

“You leavin me darlin?” quipped Remo.

“I told you to stop that stuff. Maria’s a sweet kid and expects her notice from Controversial any day. I’m sure she is clean so told her I have this uncle who has an opening as a way of getting friendly. I’d hate to disappoint her.”

“I think I might be able to help there. Give me a day. Is it all that girly chit chat that tired you out?, returned Remo seriously.

“No the tiring bit was part two, I went out to a Lowes to see the CO organic fertilizer in distribution. They had it all right. Actually, a picture perfect display that looked like a couple pallets full. That’s assuming, of course, you like your displays untouched by human hands. I think my purchase must

have been the first. And no its not the spending of your money that tired me out. I also bought some of that Miracle Plant Growing fertilizer to. Then I went home with both.

At home, I took some string and staked out four adjacent squares in my little backyard. I put the Miracle stuff on the grass in two of them and the CO stuff in the other two. Then sprinkled half my peonies with each for good measure. It took a while, but I wanted to see how the results from CO organic fertilizer compares with the leading brand.”

“You were a busy girl, Doctor Cain. Didn’t realize I had an agronomist on staff. Seriously though, Candy, good work.” commented Remo when she was through.

Remo then changed the subject to the next stage of their investigation. He had assignments for each them.

“I’m going to nose around that “state of the art”, flagship plant of Controversial’s in North Jersey to see if I smell anything beside their neighboring landfill.”

I want you to take a look this Cape Cod cranberry growers supply joint. The guy we’re most interested in is a Mark Endicott, the owner. He’s the one mentioned in a CO press release. Supposedly he is the exclusive Cape Cod

distributor of their products for the Cape’s cranberry grower set. He’s even quoted as saying the CO stuff is great shit. Sounds a bit fishy to me so early in the season.”

“Me too.”, reacted Candy instantly. I remember thinking that when I first read that press release. Like all their PR’s the CO board longies thought that it was the word of God promising heaven ever after.”, remarked Candy with an ironic smile.

“Really don’t know what you’ll find or if the guy will talk. I got some new business cards printed up that might help.” returned Remo after Candy had finished.

“Thanks Reem, but I still have an almost full box of my old ones. These say mother confessor on them or something?”, joked Candy.

“You’re on the right track, darlin. I was a bit more credibly creative than that. Take a look.”, replied Remo smiling as he handed the box of cards fresh

from the printer to Candy.

Candy’s eyes went wide with surprise and playful delight as she looked at one of her new cards.

“You are a creative boy, Reem.”, she chuckled.

“Thanks, Candice my love. I figure you can use your pretty little devious brain to find a way to use one of these babies with the good Mr. Endicott.” returned Remo with a smile.

Then Remo turned serious. “These games are fun, Candy. However like I said. I have no idea of what you’re going to find out there in The Cape’s booneys. So watch your back, okay?”

“I will, Reem. You do the same, huh.”, replied Candy now also dead serious now.

===========

The Weasel was a top professional in his line of work. He had a lot of

acquaintances even a friend or two in his line of work. They weren’t the kind

of friends you want to bring home to meet the family. He’d grown up with Fat Tony in New York City. They’d kept in touch over the years. Fat Tony had his own little cab company in D.C. He drove one of them most days himself to look legit. Sammy had Tony’s number on his mobile.

“Recognize my voice, Fatso?”, said Sammy in greeting.

“Always recognize a voice from Avenue D.” replied Fat Tony.

“Have an out of town friend that needs a ride. I’d be very grateful if you could help him out.”

“Dat so. He have any friends here in town?”, asked Tony.

“Nah, like I said he’s an out of towner. Can you get your fat ass over to the Senate Office Building right away? I’ll be by the Northwest corner.”

“Give me fifteen.”, answered Fat Tony

Good to his word, Fat Tony was there within fifteen minutes. As he pulled

up, his old friend Sammy climbed inside.

“Let’s take a short ride around the block and I’ll fill you in, Tony.” said Sammy without any pleasantries.

“So you’re sure this friend doesn’t have any friends in this town.”

“Nah. He’s more or less a civilian that just got too close to a play some boys up in New England have going. He’s a little shook up and showing some signs of wanting to share what he knows in the wrong places. He’s got to disappear without a trace. I need to talk with him before I say good bye. You know a place?”, responded The Weasel.

“Yea, there is a junkyard not so far from here. It has a big car crusher. I know the management. They’re connected. I done business with them before.”, offered Tony.

“Sounds good. This friend is a tall guy wearing a white cowboy hat and a pale blue suit. If were lucky he should be comin out of the Senate Office Building any minute.”

“This guy being watched, Sammy?”

“Just by me as far as I can tell. I’ve looked but haven’t seen anybody.”

Sammy, you got wheels?.

“Yea, give me some directions, and I’ll meet you at this auto recycling.

center. You should know how funny that is. I mean the recycling waste bit.”, returned Sammy.

After giving the directions to Sammy, Tony dropped him at his car then returned to the Senate Office Building’s main entrance. Things were surprisingly quiet in this part of town at lunch time. Tony shortly spotted his target hailing a cab. He easily beat his competition to the light blue suited, tall cowboy wearing the white hat .

“Where to buddy?”, asked Fat Tony.

“Dulles and hurry. I got a 1:30 flight.”, ordered Jimbo.

“No problem. I know a shortcut. It ain’t scenic but its fast.”, assured Fat

Tony.

“With that assurance, Jimbo didn’t raise any objection about going through a seedy industrial area until Tony turned into the junkyard. Sammy had already arrived. Tony pulled up just ahead of him. Together they dragged Jimbo into a nearby shed. He made a lot of noise, but nobody noticed.

It was dark when they were finished talking with Jimbo. The junkyard was deserted. The lone watchmen knew enough to keep his guard dogs restrained and make himself invisible tonight. He didn’t want to know anything.

Tony had hit Jimbo in the head with the butt of his piece before they carried him to a trunk of a wreck close to the front of the line the crane used to feed the car crusher. Sammy pumped three slugs into him to make sure he didn’t make a racket when the crusher got his car.

After they’d closed the trunk Sammy The Weasel gave Big Ed a very short call.

“I said goodbye”, said Sammy cryptically.

“That’s good. We‘ll talk tomorrow”, replied Big Ed.

Each then closed his pre-paid cell phone another piece of business

complete.

His work and call finished, Sammy invited Fat Tony for a beer to talk about old times.

===============

Remo hopped the shuttle from Boston to Newark at seven. He was renting a car at the airport there by a little after eight. His dress was not particularly special but well thought out. With his dark heavy windbreaker and black jeans, he could easily pass as a typical workman type. Without the jacket, he could pass for a casually dressed shirt sleeves exec given his well pressed dress blue shirt and an expensive tasteful tie.

It wasn’t a long drive to the Controversial plant from the airport. Remo picked a diner just off the Interstate a few miles from the plant to have a decent meal. There he waited over a second coffee for time to move toward eleven. He hoped not many or perhaps any would be around at the plant at

that hour.

Remo parked a half mile down the road from the plant. He made the rest of his journey on foot. The night was crisp but not unpleasantly cold. It was dark with only with only a half moon helping him find his way. There were no

street lights in this part of the small Jersey town best known for its landfill and now this new organic fertilizer plant.

Remo found the landfill and entered unobserved. There was a night watchmen in a booth. Conveniently, he was dozing as Remo carefully passed by his booth close to the entrance of the landfill. Remo had seen a photo of the plant’s exterior and recognized it as the large one-time bicycle manufacturing facility on one edge of the landfill. It was about three stories high with but one story from what he had heard. It was a large building though CO had just a small piece. The building was otherwise vacant.

Remo zipped up his jacket and donned a ski mask to be as dark as possible as he moved toward the plant building with circuitous care. Well it was he did. He found what he felt he might but hoped he wouldn’t. There were two cars near the plant. One in the smallish lot. One parked near what looked like the loading dock entrance. The car in the lot seemed empty hence

harmless. However, the one near the loading dock, an old caddy, showed the telltale faint red glows of two men having some smokes within.

Remo counted himself lucky to have passed by not so far away un-noticed and around the corner of the building. Soon he found a window which he quietly forced. It led him to a rest room and on into the plant.

Remo pocketed his ski mask. The place was mostly dead quiet. However, a good number if not all of its lights were on. He paused to listen and generally reconnoiter before proceeding. The noise wasn’t loud when it came. Just some clinks metal on metal and someone offering some profane oaths to the gods about something. Remo couldn’t make out much beyond the fact there was profanity.

Remo Dawg decided to start his exploration in the direction away from where the sounds seemed to be coming. He picked up a hard hat from several on a bench near the restroom more to fit in should he be observed than for protection.

Remo noticed a good deal of quiet large machinery as he hugged the edge of the spacious interior. It wasn’t running quietly. It just wasn’t running.

About a quarter way round the perimeter, Remo came to a rather large pile of pallets of what appeared at first to be finished product.

The light was bad for reading but Remo was able to make out that the boxes on these pallets were inbound for this plant not addressed elsewhere. The other markings on the boxes were even more curious. There was a UPC code, of course, and a brand name he recognized with astonishment. It was one of the fertilizer market leader, “Miracle Plant Growing Food.” What the hell were these guys doing buying from their big time competitor “Miracle Plant Growing Food” when they were supposed to be making fertilizer themselves?

Controversial’s new fertilizer was supposed to be made from food waste that waste haulers were supposed to be paying them to take off their hands with tipping fees. Remo paused to think on that a bit. He quickly decided that told him nothing. He searched his mind some more but could not come up with a reasonable rationale for them buying someone else’s fertilizer in such quantity.

Remo carefully continued on his secret plant tour. At one point, he noted a much smaller pile of pallets with colorful boxes indicating they were

finished CO product. Nothing suspicious there except perhaps for their modest number. He moved on now noticing just how amazingly clean most of this plant was. Almost like it had never been used.

At times he heard those metallic sounds again and some more cursing. He even heard what sounded like a decent male voice singing a few bits of an old Irish lullaby. Peering around a rather large piece of equipment Remo saw the source of both. It was an older man in working clothes and a hard hat. He had some wrenches and other tools. He was fiddling with one of the machines. Apparently the work wasn’t going well. The man often interrupted his musical talents with a well developed talent for cursing the machine on which he worked.

There didn’t appear to be anyone else around. Remo reflected that there had been but one car in the lot aside from the one with the guards.

The old guy deep into his work looked harmless. Remo took off his jacket and adjusted his newly acquired hard hat. He also fastened on some imaginary brass balls as he strode seemingly casually toward the man waving to him when he was noticed.

“Hi, old timer. I’m Matthews from HQ. I’m here to help.” announced Mathews

aka Remo nee something else.

The old man’s face and words showed both incredulity and amusement.

“I’ve heard that one before, lad. You have any more? No one told me to expect any help.”, returned the old-timer.

“Meant the delivery to be funny, but its true. I’m Mark Matthews from the Boston Office”, replied Remo pulling a business card from his shirt pocket and handing it to the older man. The old timer seemed to suspend his incredulity as he read it aloud.

“Hmm. Mark Mathews, Vice President of Plant Safety.”

“Actually, I’m down here to look for safety hazards. Thought I could have a good look around tonight without disrupting operations. However, I could lend you a hand for a bit. See you’re short handed and have heard you cursing since the boys out front let me in.”, lied Remo.

“You new Mark?”, inquired the old man not unkindly.

Pretty much but have been around the industry for a good while. I know my stuff.”, returned Remo now Matthews.

“Not long enough with this company it would seem, lad, to learn that there is powerful little “operations” going on to interrupt here just yet.

I’m Michael O’Leary. Welcome aboard Vice President of Plant Safety Matthews.”, returned the old man with a smile offering his hand.

The newly christened Matthew shook O’Leary’s hand as he said, “I well know the production numbers aren’t great yet because we’re still ramping up. Still, I did notice a fair bit of finished product on pallets back there a ways.”

“Oh yes, the refills. That’s production for some high profile customer running a test in their New England stores. We’ve been told the delivery date to that customer absolutely must be met come hell or high water so as not to jeopardize important future orders from them. I suppose in a way it is new production from this plant, but really it isn’t.”

“Refills?”, queried Remo

“You are new, lad.”, returned Michael O’Leary with a smile. “Yes, we’re using some almost outdated competitive product. Word has it, we got for a song. We are using it to fill our own packages -- just for now mind you. Still it seems a little risqué to me. But what do I know? I’m just the maintenance manager. Not that I have any staff to manage mind you.”, commented O’Leary. “Now that I think about it I don’t do much of the maintenance I was hired for either. Installation technician would be a far better title for me.”, groused O’Leary good naturedly.

“How’s it going, Michael?”, probed Remo.

“Slowly. Very Slowly, Mark. Fortunately the packaging machinery is relatively new American made stuff so we can handle the refilling if in a “jack built” sort of fashion. As for the rest of it, it’s Canadian. No disrespect to the Canadians, mind you. However, I expect this lot of this machinery has

been sitting around a good long time waiting for a buyer and not stored under not the best conditions. There’s a good bit of rust in places. There’s hardly a valve that not be froze or a solenoid that’s not zapped. Even a fair number of the wires are rotted.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever get the blasted bits together and running

though I work every day till I drop. I’ve told the plant manager I need help. It’s like he doesn’t hear me.”, vented Michael O’Leary in frustration.

Remo just nodded. O’Leary asked if he’d mind holding a wrench on a coupling while he tried to break it loose with another. Remo, said he’d be glad to lend a hand. The two men talked for a good while as they worked. Then trouble appeared.

“Here comes trouble.” announced O’Leary.

Remo turned to see two big heavy set men wearing fedoras coming down the aisle passed what he’d learned from O’Leary was the digester. He figured them for the two guards he’d seen smoking in the old Caddy out front.

“The real fat one calls himself Haberman.”, whispered O’Leary. “The other one has some Polish name with a “ski” on it and calls himself Ski. They’re both rude arrogant bastards. Seem more like longshoremen than the off-duty cops they’re supposed to be.

They just laughed at me once when I asked if they could lend a hand for a

moment.”, said O’Leary bitterly but quietly to Remo as they approached.

As they neared Remo, could see they were packing. O’Leary busied himself with his work hoping they’d pass by. Fortunately, he must also have had his ears closed or mind partially shut off for their initial question. He showed no surprise that “the boys” who Remo had said “let him in” had such a question. Then again, he did think they were a couple of pains in the ass.

“And, who might you be, stranger?”, Asked Haberman suspiciously eying Remo.

“I’m Mark Matthews from the Boston office.”, replied Remo.

“Haven’t heard that name. What you doing here tonight?”, questioned Ski.

“Safety inspection but for the moment lending Michael a hand.”

“He’s all right, lads. He showed me his card.”, interjected O’Leary now coming fully aware.

“Better let me see dat card too, Matthews.”, ordered Haberman.

Remo rose slowly calculating if he could get the drop on these bozos with

the gun in his rear waistband if need be before they blew him away. Measuring distances and odds, he pulled a card from his shirt pocket and offered it to Haberman with a “Here you go. I’m Mark Matthews. I’m the new VP of Plant Safety.”

Haberman wasn’t quite convinced. He compounded his chronically pissed off looking face with a pissed off quizzical look that made it look even uglier than before. Then, he handed the card to his partner.

“What ya tink, Ski?”

“The logo looks real and the phone numbers are right. Looks genuine to me, boss.”, replied Ski after studying the card.

“So you from Boston then, huh”, asked the still suspicious Haberman

aggressively.

“Yes, very new to the company but have lived in Boston since I was a kid ”, replied Remo semi-honestly.

“Name me the Red Sox infield then.”, challenged Haberman who turned out

to be devout fan of the Red Sox’s arch rivals the Yankees.

Remo answered in more depth than a mere mortal from Boston should be able. He was a fan and had that photographic memory thing going. He named the infield then remarked on the quality of the gloves of each before going on to their batting averages from last season.

“I’ve been a fan all my life.”, He laughed as he thought of those ridiculous World War II films where similar questions were asked to route out spies.

Fortunately, Haberman and Ski took the laugh for relaxed amusement with a question that was easy for their suspect.

“God damn Sox fan, huh.”, said Haberman but not too unkindly. “Boston company here. Guess, I’ll have to live wit it. You check wit us on da way out.

Okay?

“Sure.”, lied Remo pleased to see them walking away even before he replied.

Remo helped O’Leary for a while longer. He learned some more surprising things about the goings on at the plant. Before O’Leary had a chance to become suspicious of Remo’s abounding willingness to help out and listen or the thugs could return, Remo begged having to finish his inspection then get some shut eye.

Once out of O’Leary’s sight, he sneaked out the way he’d came in giving the car still parked at the loading dock a wide berth.

The next morning, Remo found himself a hidden spot in some nearby woods and watched the comings and goings at the plant with some powerful field glasses. A few men came in at a normal factory starting time. Remo assumed this group would be the re-filling crew. O’Leary’s car was still parked in the same place. There were a couple new guards mostly sitting in a big old Chrysler who occasionally made a circuit of the building. Not a single food waste hauler’s truck appeared. Only one delivery truck arrived presumably to pick up a load of outgoing refills.

The weather had turned rather nasty. Well chilled and a bit wet, Remo gave up his watch toward two in the afternoon to return to the airport then Boston in time to catch Candy before she left for the day.

=================

Candy Cain was pleased to be away from the office and Interstates as well on this lovely Spring day. She had tooled her little green Mazda Miata down Mass route three till it became Mass route six after she crossed the Cape Cod Canal. The weather was unseasonably mild. She put down her top to enjoy the Cape Cod she loved so well.

The small town of East Falmouth she sought was not hard to find. Cape Cod Cranberry Supplies only a bit harder. One question at a local filling station and a turn down a little traveled side road, and she was there. At first she thought it a bit off the well traveled path for a store of sorts. On reflection she figured Cranberry farmer types didn’t need to get their supplies at a high traffic shopping mall. They’d know where to find this supply store.

Candy was a bit surprised and disappointed that she hadn’t noticed any Cranberry bogs. Candy was curious about everything including cranberries. She’d thought it a great opportunity to see where they were grown while getting paid for her curiosity.

Cape Cod Cranberries Supplies looked more or less like she expected it

would. It was a single story non-descript building surrounded by what would pass as the trimmings of your everyday garden center. What Candy hadn’t

expected were the dogs.

Candy loved dogs and the two she saw were certainly an exceptionally playful pair. There was a pole maybe ten feet high erected in a grassy area adjacent to the gravel parking area. A yellow soccer sized ball was attached

to a teather from its top. A good looking guy maybe in his late thirties was occasionally keeping the ball swinging around the poll as two playful large dogs fell over themselves and each other time and again trying to snatch the ball.

Candy walked over to enjoy the humorous dog play for a bit before getting to work with Endicott.

“Quite a pair of soccer enthusiasts you have there.”, said Candy brightly with a warm smile.

The man didn’t pause in his play with the dogs but threw Candy a quick big smile as he responded.

“Oh this isn’t Cran-soccer, Miss. That’s played on a field. We call this Cran-ball.”, he laughed.

“Sorry on that, coach.”, returned Candy with a playful smile. Sure looks like fun for both you and the dogs. Why do you call it Cran-ball?”

“It’s just my line of work, Miss. I’m in the Cranberry trade. Have some bogs

of my own. I preface just about everything thing with a “Cran” when it suits me……..Like dogs do you?”

“Love ‘em. Might even say I work for one. Love cranberries too. Thought I’d get a chance to see a real bog on my trip but haven’t seen any water at all. Just some bushes and trees on my way in.”

The man grinned broadly and kept the yellow ball swinging as the dogs kept leaping after it sometimes colliding in mid-air.”

“Looking for water, huh?. That’s your problem. You see it’s a widely held myth that Cranberry bogs usually have cranberry bushes covered in water. Oh, we flood them at harvest time because the berries float as we pick them. However normally, the berries just grow on their bushes on dry sandy

ground.”

“Wow”, exclaimed Candy with a radiant smile. “Guess I just proved I’m a city girl, huh?”

“And a very pretty well turned out city girl I might comment.”, returned the man quitting his game with his dogs to approach Candy. “Most of my

customers are neither as pretty nor so well dressed as you. If you’re a tourist, I’d be glad to show you a bog or two.”

Candy knew she’d made a friend. His tone was clearly flirtatious. No problem there with her. This was one good looking guy with a great smile that loved dogs. Could well be a recipe for romance once she’d finished her business with Endicott.

“Hey, could you? That would be great. I’d love to learn more about bogs and cranberries.”, she returned.

“Actually the cranberry is a rather interesting amazing fruit with a long and colorful history. Cranberries are native to America. They were once an important food and medicinal source for Native Americans. The Brit sailors

of old had their limes to ward off scurvy. Lot of our sailor boys swore by cranberries for the same thing. They’re loaded with vitamin C, anti-oxidants,

and a lot of other good things.

“Cool”, commented Candy playfully. “Maybe they’re should be cranberry fields forever since they’re so good for folks.”

The man smiled indicating he caught Candy’s bit of whimsical humor.

“Cranberry fields forever. Now there is an interesting thought. Here is a surprising bit of trivia for you. If you put all the cranberry bogs in the world together in one spot, you’d only need a land mass the size of Nantucket Island to hold them. That’s about forty-seven square miles….. If you’re ready for that tour now, Miss, I’ll be glad to share some more fascinating Cran-trivia with you as we go.”

“I’d love to in just a bit. First, I have to see Mr. Endicott here on some business. I’d love to take that tour if you’re still around when I finish. It shouldn’t be long.”, beamed Candy.

“What say we combine work and pleasure, Miss. I’m Bill Endicott. I own

Cape Cranberry Supplies.

“Candy was a little taken aback but realized she should have guessed her latest prospect was somehow connected to the shop. She was annoyed with herself that she had become distracted by this good looking guy. Though surprised and also regretting the necessity given her blooming interest in the man, Candy kept her wits about here.

“Great to meet you, Bill.”, she started. “I’m Sonia Thompson. I’m with Controversial Organics -- customer relations.”

Bills face fell. Candy would have thought she’d said a bad word. In fact, as would soon become clear to her she’d just said two.

“Controversial Organics, huh. What brings you down her Miss Thompson. I already bought.”, returned Bill Endicott retreating to caution and formality.

Candy noticed but carried on the line she’d earlier developed. “Don’t look so suddenly serious, Bill. I well know you bought our fine organic fertilizer. Just came down to find out how its moving and maybe get some Cran-knowledge to further publicity.” said Candy offering the card Remo had

supplied her. She smiled and hoped for the best.

“V.P., huh”, smiled Bill wanly his openness gone. “Like I told your sales guy. We really don’t have much call for organic fertilizers here in the bogs. Still, I don’t want any trouble from the Cape Berries crowd. I ordered. I paid my bill. I’m lot looking to make any returns. I even let them use my name in an endorsement.

Bells were sounding in Candy’s head. This approach may have just yielded some results for the Dawg-Cain team. However, it wouldn’t get any more. Her initial impression of Bill Endicott was right. He was a straight shooting nice honest guy. Her plan for attack was all wrong. It wouldn’t get her much further. Bill was scared of CO.

Candy held Bill’s eyes for a meaningful moment while she thought then finally spoke.

“Bill I’m going to be straight with you. I haven’t been fully so thus far. Sorry on that. My reasons will become clear. I’m not with CO and my name isn’t Sonia. I’m a private investigator out of Boston. I’m working closely with Federal authorities looking into CO and its people. Really sorry I deceived

you. You seem a swell guy, and I do love dogs. Let’s start over. “said Candy pausing for a reaction she noted his look was more relieved then hostile.

She handed Bill her real business card and her P.I. license which had her photo on it.

“My name is Candice Cain. How’s that for a new start, Bill.?

Bill looked over the card and her license.

“Photo doesn’t do you justice, Candy. Guess I like you far better as a cop, but I’m not really sure I want to say much more.”

“You say this sales guy is tied in with the Cape Cranberries crowd, Bill”, tried Candy.

“Do I really have to answer your questions, Miss Cain?”, asked Bill still nervous.

“Not really, Bill. I’m not officially with law enforcement. Still, I have to warn you if you don’t, my guess is that some federal law enforcement types will

soon be knocking at your door with the same questions.”

Bill reflected a bit.

“You’re quite convincing, Miss Cain. There has long been a lot of quiet talk around these parts about Cape Cranberries. For sure they’re employees have been strictly advised to keep their mouths shut about what goes on

there. I have a good friend who works in a regular job there that told me that in confidence. What they are up to I have no idea.

I’ve seen this sales guy from CO around town for years. I well know he works for Cape Cranberries too -- doing what I don’t know. His sales pitch to me came out like a deal I couldn’t refuse. I’m sure you catch my meaning. So I didn’t refuse. I didn’t and don’t want any trouble.”

Candy asked some more questions to see if she could detect any inconsistencies in what Bill had just said or perhaps learn something more. The were no inconsistencies. Candy was convinced both that the guy was telling the truth though he knew little of relevance to her investigation. The one thing she did learn that had significance was that Endicott was still awaiting delivery on the CO fertilizer.

Her business complete. Candy took a try at reviving her personal agenda.

“Can I still get that guided tour, Bill?”

“No more questions except about cranberries and maybe whether I wear boxers or briefs?, returned Bill his caution fading and his humorous charm

returning.

“I promise.” smiled Candy. They spent and enjoyable couple hours together walking an talking about everything except Cape Cranberries or Controversial Organics. When the time came for Candy to go, she’d hoped Bill would call. He had her card with her number.

==================

Both back in their Back Bay office by four-thirty, Remo and Candy shared their findings. They put together a report of what they’d learned to date and faxed it of to Davey at the SEC.

Remo himself drafted the final summary paragraphs:

Their work complete, at least for now, Remo and Candy headed home to a good night’s rest. There was golf to be played tomorrow.

Remo picked up Candy at her townhouse on a lovely street in the heart of Beacon Hill. Remo well knew he didn’t pay Candy enough to afford such swell digs. It was a classy hand-me-down. That is a house that had belonged to her wealthy family and been cast aside for something better to the benefit of their favorite daughter. Remo wasn’t jealous. He too had enjoyed the benefits of being the only child of a wealthy family. He’d never earned that much during his years with The Bureau, He’d always had to be careful not to let his fellow agents know just how well he lived.

Remo watched his lovely assistant cross the narrow strip of grass that passed for a lawn in the city. She was as beautiful to look at as ever but looked uncharacteristically distraught today. As soon as she’d opened his car door and sat down, Remo learned why.

“Remo, the damned CO product killed my peonies”, stammered Candy full of rage.

“Geez, sorry Candy. Sure they’re all the way dead?”, consoled Remo hoping to mitigate her rage.

“Perhaps not all the way dead, Reem, but they’re wilted to the ground. Only a miracle will save them from being dead dead within a few days.”

“You Call a plant doctor, Candy? Maybe one would have a cure.”, teased Remo as he headed for the Charlestown tunnel and Hogg’s hotel.

“Don’t joke about this Reem. Those peonies were like children to me. I raised them from seeds.”, replied Candy half growling and half weeping.

Remo decided a change of subject was best. “I’m still working on an “uncle” for your pal, Maria. I thought my buddy horny Bill Murdoch would be up to employ anything cute though even a chauvinist pig like me had some qualms of guilt about exposing anything possibly innocent to horny Bill. He just wasn’t interested. I guess the economy is really from hunger, huh.

“Thanks anyway Reem. You’re no pig. You’re really sweet if the truth must be told. Keep searching that rolodex you keep in your mind. Maria thought today just might be her last one with CO.”, returned Candy far calmer now as they entered the dreary tunnel to dreary Charlestown.

Remo and Candy were just to about to leave the Charlestown tunnel and

return into the a particularly beautiful even un-seasonally warm, lovely, early Spring day. Aside from the occasional gust of March wind, the day was perfect for golf.

Candy had the address of Holiday’s Inn in her hand and had just wondered aloud why Hogg hadn’t checked into a Holiday Inn in a more convenient and better area. Then she’d quickly followed on without giving Remo a chance to answer asking Remo if he needed some help with the address or directions.

“No thanks, Candy, I know it well. Stayed there more times than I care to remember. Oh, it’s Holiday’s not Holiday, the chain. It’s a semi-dump with hot and cold running whores in every room.”, answered Remo

“Ewww. And you just said you used to stay there, super stud?” , questioned Candy with a snicker.

“It was when I was still with The Bureau. Several times we had to put state’s witnesses on ice before and during their testimony. Having in-house personal services was an advantage. It’s kept the snitches we were baby-sitting from going out on the street and getting their heads blown away….I’m pretty sure The Bureau doesn’t use it any more.”

“Why is that G-man?”, inquired Candy. Remo’s former G-man tidbits were rare and always interesting.”

“Maxy Grossman. Maxy had a date with a great looking whore who said here name was Passion. At least the guys that were baby sitting Maxy thought she looked hot. Trouble was they were looking at her big teats and pretty ass when they should have been doing a better job of patting her down. She put three slugs into Maxy and took out one of the Feds watching him to boot. Her real name was Contessa, the Doll. That’s about as far as that investigation ever got. She just disappeared.”

“The mob has button ladies?”, asked Candy incredulous.

“Button women, darlin, is a better term given their trade. And yes, there have been some notorious ones. Very lethal and clever…. for women, ya know.”

Hey wise guy!, protested Candy.

“Hey yourself, Candy. I’m no wise guy I was one of a former G-men on the side of truth, justice, and all that stuff….. This is it.”

“Yuck, thought you said semi-dump, Reem. This place is a full five star dump. Let’s hope Hogg is watching for us. I really don’t want to go in to fetch him.”, reacted Candy when she saw the rundown three-story story motor inn with cardboard in a good number of its windows and some gross looking weed filled, half-dead grass out front that looked as if it hadn’t been mowed in years.

Remo parked across from the entrance and gave his Mustang’s horn a couple quick toots hoping Hogg was waiting in the lobby. Within a few moments, they were relieved to see the little man emerge with a set of golf clubs over his shoulder.

“Oh good, Here he comes, Reem.”, said Candy in relief. “Do you see what I see on his shoulder?”

“Christ, it looks like a parrot.”, exclaimed Remo

Candy who’d been riding shotgun got out and opened the trunk for Hogg’s clubs. Then she opened the back door for Hogg and the bird.

“I’ll ride shot gun if you don’t mind, Miss Cain. A man needs room for his

legs.”, stated Hogg most ungalantly.

Candy looked down at the little man silently for a moment then complied. He sort of was the client.

“Hey, Hogg.”, said Remo cheerfully in greeting. You always take the parrot golfing with you or what?”

“He’s my good luck charm, Dawg. Beside there was no one at home to take care of him while I was away.”, returned Hogg.

Remo noted that Hogg’s shoulder was already soiled but was more taken aback by Hogg’s lime green golf slacks and his loud Hawaiian style floral shirt. He commented on neither.

‘Hope you brought some cash with you like me.”, said Remo patting his shirt pocket as he put the car into drive and started toward the exit. ‘Let me know if you need to stop at a cash machine.”

“Sorry, local cash machines won’t do me any good. My bank is located overseas and doesn’t subscribe. You’ll take a check if the need arises won’t

you, Dawg?”

“Whatever. But the original bet was cash……. Show your checkbook to Candice. You did bring your checkbook I hope, Hogg”, returned Remo with skeptical venom.

“Of course, Dawg.”, replied Hogg handing his checkbook to Candy. What

kind of deadbeat do you think I am?”

Remo had a good idea but kept quiet and drove.

“Looks legit, boss. However, I thought Fifth Third Bancorp was an Ohio bank. Cincinatti right?

“Um, well Ohio is like overseas. It’s across the river from….”, responded Hogg lamely without finishing his sentence.

“Across the river from exactly where, Hogg?”, asked Remo controlling his laughter at Hogg’s blunder.

“Louisville, actually Dawg. Many is the time I jogged across the bridge as a

young lad to build up my body. I still have family there.”

Remo ignored the lie and inquired as to Hogg’s bird’s name.

Hogg smiled for the first time. “This is Skidady. Skidady is a smart bird aren’t you, skidady?”

As if on cue, the bird replied, “Squawk, five stars. Squawk, five stars, professor.”

Candy recognized “Professor” as the laudatory nickname Hogg had another of his ID’s give his Hogg ID. She tried to control a laugh but failed miserably. Fortunately, Hogg was too embarrassed to notice. Finally she asked brightly.

“Does the bird know anything else, Mr. Hogg?”

Hogg just grimaced. The bird added nothing…. for a while. All was silence in the car till after Remo got on I-95 headed south for Norton. Then the bird again proved he was a smart bird.

“Squawk, Eat shit, Ryder. Squawk.”

Remo and Candy feigned hearing and knowing nothing. More to control his own desire to laugh out loud than save Hogg from further embarrassment, Remo tried to make some small talk.

“Take it those are your own clubs, Hogg. Get some practice in since you’ve been here in Boston?

“Just a couple buckets at the driving range down the road from my hotel, Dawg.”, replied Hogg.

Remo knew the neighborhood well. He clearly recalled the crummy driving range on a former landfill about a mile maybe more down the road from Hogg’s “hotel“.

“Great. Wouldn’t want ya to be unprepared, Hogg. Clever to pick a great hotel only a few minutes drive from a range.”, commented Remo with seeming sincerity.

“Actually, I didn’t bother with renting a car for this trip, Dawg. I walked. Most

Americans take staying in shape for granted but not me. I walk nearly everywhere taking public transportation only when I must. It’s all about the environment, Dawg. As I was telling you the last time we met, it’s the responsibility of each of us to do our bit to save the planet. Too many cars driven by lazy Americans are ruining the environment. You do understand don’t you, Dawg?”

Remo filed Hogg’s speech away and tried another tact.

“One of my other investigators, an old retired Bostonian realtor will be filling out our foursome, Hogg. Our Friday afternoon game is a regular thing with the three of us when the weather permits. Consider him like Candice. Anything Billy hears won’t go beyond Miss Cain and me.”, announced Remo.

“No problem, Dawg.”

Candy leaned forward ignoring the overwhelming scent of Hogg’s cheap cologne and spoke quietly into Hogg’s ear.

Billy is rich as hell, a compulsive gambler, and a duffer. He’s the next best

thing to me getting a raise out of Mr. Dawg. Follow my cue, if you want to take home some extra cash. Okay?”

Hogg didn’t reply, but Candy knew he was thinking.

A few moments later Beethoven’s Fifth announced a call on Remo’s cell phone. Remo opened the phone and held the earpiece tightly to his ear.

“Hey David. Great to hear from you. No you’re not interrupting anything. Just headed south on I-95 with Candy and a client for some golf. One sec.”

Remo didn’t cup the mike of the phone as he announced, “It’s our favorite accountant David Green, Candy. Want me to say hi for you?

Candy well knew their accountant wasn’t named David Green but she got the message. “Tell him I’m still hot for his body, Reem”, laughed Candy playfully.

“Ya hear that David? Maybe she’s serious. Why ya calling?” said Remo into his phone again holding the speaker tight against his ear not to let Davey be overheard.

“Got you, Remo. I’ll be brief.”, started Remo’s SEC contact Davey. “Great report. It confirmed some things we’d already learned and added a few new wrinkles. As I am sure you understand, your work for Hogg is part of a larger plan. For the moment, it’s best you limit your briefing of Hogg on your findings. Let him know that his money is lost and the basher’s are just smart investors but limit it to that. Nothing on the nature of the company. Just be vague. I know you’re good at that when its needed. Okay”, said Davey

“Oh sure, but can’t I take off at least some of that as a business expense, Dave?”, responded Remo.

“Take of your Christmas gifts to your family for all I care, Remo. That’s between you and the friendly boys down the street.”, laughed Davey. “Enjoy your golf.”

“Whatever you say, Dave. You’re the boss. Thanks for the heads up”, replied Remo closing his phone.

Shortly Remo turned off onto an east-west Interstate for a brief period then onto a local road. The silence was only occasionally interrupted by Skidady singing more praises of Hogg. Candy and Remo each privately amused

themselves with thoughts of Hogg chanting aloud as he typed his own reviews on that CO chat board with which they now were all familiar.

Shortly they were at Great Woods. Hogg couldn’t keep himself from revealing his awe at the stately, massive New England style clubhouse of Great Woods. It was framed with seemingly hand manicured fairways and greens. Even this early in the season, it was an impressively beautiful sight to behold.

“Must cost an arm and a leg to play here.”, he gasped, “This is your invite right, Dawg?”

“Two and quarter for greens fees, but don’t worry, Hogg, I’ll put it on the SEC’s tab. Client entertainment you know.”, replied Remo though he well knew he and Candy were the ones being entertained.

Derek Moss newly christened as Billy Walsh was waiting at a table on the clubhouse’s terrace. He’d already checked in with the starter for their foursome. There was plenty of time for lunch before their two o’clock tee time.

The introductions went well. Billy nee Derek was a good actor. He showed no unusual reaction on his first face to face meeting with the Haber-Hogg he so despised. Hogg took no special note of Billy.

Hogg was still looking doe eyed at the palatial surrounding and the well turned out golf crowd around him sporting sedate but expensive golf wear. He didn’t seem to notice that several of those people couldn’t help but turn to take a mirthful glance at him in his florescent lime green golf pants and flowered shirt complimented by a large parrot perched on his shoulder.

“We’d better sit and order if we don’t want to have to rush lunch.” offered Remo.

No sooner than the had taken their seats a young waiter was with them.

“Welcome to Great Woods. I’m Eric. I’ll be your server today. Care for something to drink while you study your menus?”

Remo and Billy both ordered diet cokes; Candy ordered an ice tea; Hogg ordered a double bourbon and water.

“Do you find you can drink and drive, Mr. Hogg?” asked Candy playfully.

Hogg looked up from his menu to shoot Candy an evil glance. Then exclaimed.

“My God. There are no prices on my menu!”

“No problem, Hogg, this all goes on the tab. Order what you like.” replied Remo casually returning his attention to his own menu.

While they waited for Eric to bring what they’d ordered, Candy started some

small talk by asking Billy if he was cool on their usual twenty-five dollar per hole bet for the eighteen.

“Sure am Candy. It’s really a sin, you know, for me to keep taking your money --- you being so young and pretty and all.”, answered Derek/Billy easily in his rich laid back baritone.

“This guy is good”, merrily thought Candy to herself before responding in kind. “And when was the last time you had to confess that to Father O‘Hara, Billy?”

Billy and Remo just smiled as Candy turned to Hogg, “How about the same bet so I can pass Billy’s money on to you Mr. Hogg. I must warn you being a woman, I’ll be using the lady’ tees -- short legs and all you know.”

Hogg caught the dig but was aroused to put a woman in her place and accepted her challenge. The fool knew no fear.

The food came. They all dived in. There was only occasional small talk though Hogg seemed to be sounding out Billy on his play. Billy seemed a bit vague and defensive in his responses. Then Hogg pounced with a challenge to a wager with Billy.

“Never turned down a challenge, Mr. Hogg.”, responded Billy to Hogg’s challenge. “I may regret it, but I’ll take you on. A thousand per hole for the eighteen like you suggested.”, returned Billy after Hogg had pounced. ‘We have a cash machine right here at the club if you need it.’

“Umm, Mr. Hogg will be paying with a check if necessary, Billy.”, ventured Remo trying to sound as casual and non-inflammatory as possible.

“That’s so, Hogg?”, mused Billy before answering. “No problem I’m sure.

Never got a bad one from a gentleman. Same as cash today as far as I’m concerned.”, replied Billy.

Remo signed the check and they started off toward the first tee. It was almost two.

“Think your pal Eric there is gay, Dawg? Looks a little swishy to me if you know what I mean”, said Hogg quietly to Remo as the walked together toward the tee.

“Haven’t really thought about it Hogg. You want first crack at the ball?”, replied Remo.

=======================

Nice to see you and Miss Cain again smiled Henry, the starter. Then Henry suddenly stopped and stared in disbelief as he noted the parrot on Hogg’s shoulder. Remo quickly went over to shake Henry’s hand slipping him a twenty as he did.

Hogg had a bit of trouble getting his tee into the hard-packed ground. He

also had some problems getting the ball balanced on his tee but succeeded after a bit.

Remo’s eyes were wide with surprise when Hogg then rushed up to his ball with the bird still grasping tightly to a pad on Hogg’s shoulder and took a rather awkward homemade swing at the ball. Amazingly, it went straight down the fairway about two-hundred fifty yards. Each of the other three bettered it with their drives, but it still had been a decent if ugly shot.

Then things turned from amazing to surreal. The three had parked their carts well behind Hogg’s ball and sat watching. They wanted to see if the braggart would hit another respectable shot. Again, Hogg rushed to the ball. Setting himself only momentarily before sending a shot well into the rough to the right of this par four’s green.

“Squawk. Great shot, professor. Squawk.”, yelped the parrot still firmly attached to Hogg’s shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, Skidady.”, returned Hogg showing his first real annoyance with his beloved parrot.

Then something stranger then strange happened. Skidady rose from Hogg’s shoulder and headed down the fairway. He found Hogg’s ball. Picked it up and dropped it within ten feet of the pin. Then Skidady immediately returned to his perch on Hogg’s shoulder.”

“Pretty bird”, said Hogg offering it a Ritz cracker he’d produced from a pocket.

Remo gave a generous smile. “Shame you have to replace it the rough, Hogg” he said cordially.

“Hell I do, Dawg. You don’t know shit about golf.”, started the little man in a bully mode that was humorous in itself to behold coming from the slight, older man with the lime green pants and the bad rug. “Rule 18-2 clearly states that if a ball at rest is moved by an outside agency, there is no penalty and the ball must be played from where it finally comes to rest. I know it by heart.”

Billy looked ready to say something. He couldn’t quote chapter and verse, but he knew the rule said otherwise. With his photographic memory, Remo did know the rule book chapter and verse.

“Sorry. Think you’re mistaken, Hogg. If it has come to rest it must be replaced. Think of the silly things that could happen if your interpretation were correct.”

“You’re out of your league, Dawg.”, returned Hogg roughly. “I just happen to have a copy of rule 18-b right here in my bag” said this little man drawing out a neatly folded typed sheet from his golf bag.

Incredulous, Remo took the paper sheet offered him. It read exactly as Hogg had just recited. He knew damn well the paper was a forgery Hogg must have typed up himself but gave no serious argument.

“I’m sure this is some kind of mistake or joke, Hogg, but I’m not about to stand out here arguing about some obscure rule and waste a beautiful day. I’m sure it won’t happen again. Let’s play folks.”

Remo could see the others were more ready for a fight as Hogg replaced his sheet in his bag. Remo mouthed,” Let it go.” So they did.

All three hit clean shots to the green though all were further away than Hogg Remo hit a well directed putt that stopped just short of the hole. He tapped it

in for a par. Two Putt (Billy) was just a few inches closer than Remo with about twenty feet to the hole and a ridge in between his lie and the hole.

He took his time studying his shot from all angles before taking his stance and hitting a firm putt into the center of the hole for a birdie. Like Remo, Candy two-putted for par.

Hogg didn’t do so well. As usual, he almost ran up to the ball and putted it with hardly a look.. His putt was wide by a foot and two feet long.

“Take your time, Mr. Hogg.” counseled Candy earnestly

“You got it made, Hogg. Looks about 18 inches straight on. Even the grass is lying your way. Just don’t hit it too hard. Could be a wee bit fast”, chipped

in Billy truthfully.

Remo was still thinking about the second double bourbon Hogg had consumed at lunch after Hogg missed the gimme by six inches. In the end, he took a bogey.

“Back home, we call them boogeys cause they’re so nasty.”, consoled Billy. Bad luck for ya, Hogg. That’s a thousand each for me and Remo and twenty-

five for the girl.”

Candy was taking this all in with great pleasure. Billy was good at subtly sticking it to Hogg though he was playing it a little risky with that “boogey” remark. Hogg had taunted Derek Moss for years on several chat boards saying he was a phony that claimed to have been a pro but couldn’t even spell bogey correctly. This because he didn’t get a pun Moss had once posted using boogey for bogey ---- or maybe Hogg just wanted not to get the pun. On the board he was always whole heartedly committed to mischief, deceit, and defamation. He also had often been a fanatic about the spelling of others when he’d lacked anything else for which to criticize a fellow posters. This though Hogg usually had as many or more typos and misspellings in his post as any but the least educated posters.

Candy also might have taken offense to Billy referring to her as the “girl”, but she well knew he was playing a role. She also knew that being beaten by a “girl” was about the worst humiliation you could wreak on Hogg

given his attitude toward women.

The second hole was a par five with a water hazard on the right. The three drove each of their first shots long and straight avoiding all hazards. Hogg

had rushed up to his ball in his usual manner. He sliced his drive badly into

some trees. Luckily for him it hit off a tree trunk with a resounding sound and ended up in the fairway though only about a hundred and fifty yards from the tee.

“Didn’t draw that one quite enough”, he had said.

No one remarked on his comment.

Hogg used a fairway wood on his second shot and hit a pretty fair shot though well short of the green given his weak first shot. Then it happened again. Skidady squawked a “Good shot, professor” and was off down the fairway after the ball. The bird picked it up and deposited it on the green then returned for his Ritz.

Everyone made a show of acting as if this was acceptable even routine.

Remo hit a superior second shot and was on the green in two. Candy and Billy were on in three. Remo and Billy each got their birds. Two Putt Billy’s long curving putt was unworldly good. Candy had to settle for a par. Hogg’s

putting again was God awful. He took a bogey.

“That makes it two thousand each for Remo and me and fifty bucks you owe the girl”, intoned Billy in his sonorous voice. “Like I said those boogeys will kill you, laddie.”

For the first time, Hogg cast a suspicious eye at Billy. It wasn’t about his golf.

“Where is that back home where they talk like that, Billy?”, Hogg asked suspiciously. That word laddie had rung a bell.

“New Hampshire’s my home, Hogg. Grew up there and went to Phillips Exeter before getting into my Dad’s real estate business.”, lied Billy.

“Nice”, thought Remo, “Derek’s has thought out his cover well.”

Then he himself improvised aloud with a smile, “Yea, them fairy Exeter boys all talk funny. They make corny jokes and puns only they think funny. Mostly Billy’s all right, but he can get carried away.”

Even Hogg bought it and managed to join in the comradely laughter. They moved on to the third hole, a par three.

Remo and Billy were on in one with their drives begging to be birdied. Candy was on the same tee for this hole. She took a good look at the hole and changed her mind on her five iron appearing tentative in her substitution with a four. She put her finger up to check the wind. Then double checked with a hand full of grass.

Finally he carefully addressed her ball and took a picture perfect graceful

swing. Her shot was high with just a touch of draw. It hit just a little short of the pin and rolled into the hole like a gopher returning home for Christmas.

Hogg has his parrot and Candy has her eagle. What are we to have Remo?, joked Billy.

“Geez, Candy, a GD hole-in-one.”, cried Remo hugging his beautiful assistant.

Hogg just stared looking pissed off.

So the game continued for the first seven holes. Hogg’s parrot was amazing but couldn’t save him from defeat on every hole. The trio within the four-some was in understandably high spirits even though they doubted they’d

even get a bad check out of this boastful phony. Hogg was wishing he could one-star them all into oblivion.

Along the way, Remo had on a couple occasions had been surprised to hear rustling in the bushes as he strode to his cart. He attributed it to deer though he couldn’t recall having heard them very often on his many previous days on this course.

Remo was also a bit surprised that though they played rather slowly given that Hogg often had to search the woods for a good while to “find” an errant drive, the following two-some never caught up and asked to play through. (Hogg always found a ball and it always was playable, but Remo let that go too.)

Remo had looked back a couple times and saw them well back just watching. If he’d looked back more often and more closely, he would have seen they seldom used a ball and often were watching him with powerful

field glasses quickly lowered whenever anyone in his foursome turned in their direction.

What Remo had no way of knowing was the Sammy the Weasel lay in wait

with good cover in a dense bit of wood that had a great view of the eighth green across its surrounding artificial lake. Sammy had an expensive scoped marksman’s rifle with him. Sammy knew how to use it. The occasional wind troubled him a bit, but the gusts were fairly infrequent.

The eighth was a two-hundred thirteen yard par 3. It’s green was on an island connected to the fairway by a narrow causeway. Billy told Candy he expected another ace and would be disappointed with her for anything less. The three had a good natured laugh about his feigned demand.

Despite being two under par to this point had they been keeping track of

that version of their scores, Candy had Billy by a hole. She was two up on Remo.

Hogg was damned glad they weren’t counting strokes globally. Despite Skidady talents and his often offered praise, Hogg was already down seven

holes to each of the three. That was bad enough. His reptilian brain wasn’t a whiz at math, but he was smart enough to know that he was almost thirty thousand dollars down and things were likely to get far worse.

Hogg rationalized he was being hustled and cheated. He wasn’t quite sure

how regarding the cheating, but was convinced that somehow they were cheating. They well deserved the bad checks he would write if he wrote any at all he self-righteously assured himself.

All four got on in one though Hogg had his usual help from Skidady to get over the water hazard and onto the green. He was away.

Hogg and the other two men stood quietly clustered together while Candy carefully sized up her putt.

A gust of wind suddenly rustled the trees. There was a sharp crack. Skidady spouted red and a flew in a million pieces in every direction. Hogg just stared dumbly in disbelief at a pair of bloody parrot feet still gripping his shoulder pad that no longer had the parrot to which they’d once belonged.

Remo lunged at Hogg flattening him while shouting. “Down you fool. That was meant for you.” The others followed suit. Remo covered Hogg while pulling his gun from his windbreaker till he concluded there would be no further shots given that all hell was breaking loose. The cavalry was on its way.

Two men guns drawn were running from the wood on the right. The two men who had been playing behind them had jumped off their golf cart and were also running like hell from the rear toward the source of the shot. Remo got up on one knee eyes searching the direction of the shot for the villain with no success.

“Federal agents. Stay down.”, shouted the two coming from the right as they skirted the small lake and ran toward the shot. Remo went back to flat on the ground.

“You okay Candy?”, he called

“Scared shitless but otherwise okay, Reem” she returned her quavering voice betraying the truth of her words.

“How about you, Derek” called Remo.

“No Derek here, Remo, but I‘m fine.”, returned Billy somewhat chagrined yet somewhat amused too.

“What the fuck.”, growled Hogg still face to the ground. “You Derek or Billy?

That ain’t no New Hampshire accent. You’re a fucking Limey. God damn it, you’re Derek Moss. You’re God Damned Ryder!”

“Nice to meet you Haber-Lizard. It’s been a long time coming. You’re an uglier piece of deceitful scum than I ever had imagined.” returned the now revealed Derek Moss in his usual languid baritone as he rose from the ground and dusted himself off.

“Nice to see you positioned properly, Hogg.” Derek continued addressing the prone Hogg still tightly hugging the ground. “Shame about Skidady. Damned wind must have blown the gunman’s shot away from your head.”

Despite the circumstances, Remo couldn’t help but smile as he too got up his eyes still on the wood with the agents disappearing into it in pursuit of

the gunman.

“Thank God for Big Brother but reactive as always.”, he said. “And you’d better thank God for that wind gust, Hogg.”

Candy was also coming to life and was up now with her gun drawn. “You can get up now, Mr. Hogg.”

“Yea Lizard, the boogey man is all gone.”, merrily chimed in Derek Moss.

Despite their chiding, Hogg stayed on the ground until one of the agents came back from the hunt for the gunman. He introduced himself to Remo and the group as Special Agent Scanlon taking special interest in Remo.

“You’re Dawgouski, right?”

“I prefer Dawg but yea”, replied Remo.

Shit Dawg, you’re a legend in The Bureau. How’d you ever get in this mess?”

“Davey Wilcox”, replied Remo simply. They exchanged smiles then Scanlon spoke.

“We got the rifle. He dropped it and ran. The other agents are in pursuit. We have some more men in the parking lot if he was foolish enough to park there. Worst case we are pretty sure we know the identity of the shooter and can pick him up later assuming he doesn’t go too far underground.

You folks can probably continue your game if you like. By the way, great playing Miss Cain. I won a sawbuck on that hole in one. Oh, too bad about Skidady, Hogg. He was a friggin amazing bird.”

You seem to know quite a lot about us, Scanlon”, observed Remo. “How is that?”

“Don’t even ask, Dawg. Ongoing investigation. You know the drill.”, replied Scanlon with a trace of a smile.

“So you say its okay to continue”, inquired a languid baritone voice.

“The world is full of danger, Mr. Moss. It’s also a world of individual choice. I

won’t stop you.”

“Well, it’s either we play out the eighteen, or Hogg forfeits the remaining holes”, returned Moss argumentatively

Remo wasn’t quite so sure he wanted to continue. He knew just how close to death they’d been. Still, he well understood his old friend’s Derek’s newly minted ploy and voiced some support. Candy too was quick on the uptake

and pitched in. Even Scanlon was wise to their game an threw in his two cents in their support.

“When ya fall of a horse, you get right back up in the saddle and ride.”, Scanlon noted with a straight face.

Hogg was aroused.

“Arrest these three, officer. They were trying to hustle and cheat me. This Moss even assaulted me just now. You must have seen the way he knocked me off my feet.”, whined Hogg.

“Tell it to a judge, Hogg.”, returned Scanlon.

As Scanlon moved away from the group to rejoin the hunt, Derek started lining up his putt.

“Excuse me, Hogg, there is a wee bit of your bird in my line. Mind if I move it?”

Hogg was visibly furious. He shouted an obscenity just as Derek was to

strike his putt. Never-the-less his twenty-five footer went unerringly to the hole and dropped in.

“Cheater! That God Damned Moss-Ryder played out of turn. I was

away not him.”, screamed Hogg. “It’s a forfeit!”

Cooler heads finally prevailed after Candy and Remo holed out for birdies as well. Hogg refused to resume play and was forfeited for the hole by a three to one vote.

Even though a compromise was offered on the eighteen holes, Hogg, at first

refused to settle up. Remo convinced him writing some checks for the eight holes played was better than walking back to Boston. They all knew the checks would bounce ten times higher than a dead cat stock. However, they all wanted trophies.

===============

While Hogg sourly waited in Remo’s Mustang for his ride, Remo and Derek bid one another a fond farewell. Derek regretted he couldn’t stay on longer for a serious visit because of some personal obligations pending back in

Florida. However, he sincerely urged both Remo and Candy

him to visit at any time there or in England. He also urged them to keep tuning into the CO chat board to see how today’s events went down on the web site and with the stock.

Derek predicted Hogg would be back unchanged on the CO chat board within an hour of his plane touching down in Louisville.

Remo laughed and agreed. Candy gave Derek a big hug and a surprisingly long even passionate kiss if on the cheek. With shared waves, they parted.

Remo and Candy headed back to his Mustang.

“Like older men?” inquired Remo playfully as they walked.

“It’s all in the putter, Remo”, replied Candy coyly.

Remo thought on that a bit as they got back in the car and drove Hogg back to Charlestown. Candy and Remo playfully exchanged quips with each other. Many of them were at the expense of Hogg. They didn’t even try to question Hogg to try to figure out who had try to kill him. At this point, paraphrasing the famous words of Rhett Butler “Quite frankly, they didn’t give a damn.“

Clearly, their client relationship with Hogg, such as it was. was over. Just as clearly the G-men knew a lot more about it and had it well in hand.

Hogg said not a word during the entire journey other than a “Yes” when asked if he’d need a ride to the airport. After picking he picked up his things at Holiday’s, they dropped him at Logan Airport then headed to one of their favorite watering holes to celebrate the day.

================

While this comedic drama had been playing out in Norton, a drama of another sort had been transpiring in North Boston.

“The Don thinks, we need a fire.”, Big Ed.

“With respect, I think that’s crazy, Contessa. You know the numbers. You almost got your accounting degree. You’ve read my PR’s. The game is still afoot. There is a lot more profit left in this play for the taking.”, replied Big Ed.

“I said, my uncle, Don Gremaldi says we need a fire, Ed. You do have the insurance paid up don’t you?”, pressed Contessa growing more irritated.

“I think it is, Contessa. You and the Don just don’t understand. Our shareholders are faithful. They’ll never miss Jimbo. Hogg was hardly noticeable on that chat board. It were his intentions that concerned us and that issue should be moot by now. Weasel makes no mistakes.

“Ed, you’re not listening. I said The Don says we need a fire. You’d better

start learning about respect.”, returned Contessa for the third time astonished and pissed with Big Ed‘s intransigence.

“Christ, Doll, I heard you but know you’re both wrong. I can handle this, and I’ll do it my way. Remember, it says CEO on my office door. Besides, I’ve got the senator in my pocket. He’s got a stake. He’ll keep the DOJ off our backs.”

“The Don told me the senator is in agreement on the need for a fire. We’re blown. Some SEC suits already have been sniffing around, and that figgin idiot, Jimbo, clued the senator in on our financial situation. The senator ain’t happy with the situation. He is more concerned about covering his ass than

making a killing at this point. How could he spend the green in the joint? Capiche, Big Ed?”

================

Two of the new professional generation of by the book G-men were not far off in the same room where Scanlon and his partner had spent weeks with their tapes whirring.

“You hear that, Bronski? He just called Contessa Doll. Remember the Maxy Grossman disaster. Could be a coincidence, but we’d better get over there pronto. Something could be about to happen.

Bronski also took it seriously but pleaded to hear more. He didn’t want to fill out triplicate explanations if they jumped too soon.”

==============

“You’re all over reacting, Doll. You’ll all be glad I stood up to you for what is right in the end. We can still pull this off. You‘ll see”, said Ed.

Contessa, the Doll was quiet for a while. She had to think. Finally, she answered.

“Maybe you’re right, Big Ed. Let’s call it a day and get a good dinner over at Anthoy’s Pier Four. I love the place. You gotta try the Lobster Fescador. It’s to die for.”

“Glad we’re finally getting in synch, Contessa. Yeah, we both could use a little fine wine and good food. I know the way. Meet you in the parking lot -

say in about a half hour. Okay?”

“Sure Ed. You know my car. I’m always concerned in dark parking lots. Too many punks in this God forsaken city will blow you away for a sawbuck. Walk me in, okay?”

“Sure, Doll. Later then.”, said Ed rising from the table in what passed for a conference room at Controversial Organics.

==================

“Looks like they made up, Bronski.”

“I dunno. Let’s get over to Anthony’s and keep an eye on them. Worse thing, we get a great meal on The Bureau.”, replied his partner.

“I’m with you on that.”

=================

Contessa had her uncle’s big car today. She drove to the nearby well known

restaurant on a pier and parked in its large lot ignoring the valet service available. Then she used a pre-paid cell she always carried but rarely used to make a call. Her call was quickly concluded with Contessa speaking the last sentences

“That’s what I thought. I like the guy too, but he knows nothing about respect. This is just business.”

==================

Traffic in Boston can be a bitch any time of day. By the time the two young agents pulled into Anthony’s lot, it was already filled with flashing red lights of a half dozen Boston black and whites. They parked and sought out the

reason for the cop cars being there.

After flashing their ID‘s, a sergeant putting up some crime scene tape pointed them to a luitenant. Again they showed their credentials The luitenant was cautious but cooperative.

“What’s this to you two federal boys?”, asked Luitenant Collins.

“We were just out for some dinner. Thought we’d ask what was going on here for the heck of it.”

“The new admin must have put some of that stimulus money The Bureau’s way, huh”, started Collins skeptically. “This joint isn’t cheap.”

Collins paused for a reaction but got none. Still, he decided to answer anyway. There was little chance or an intra-agency turf war over a simple robbery homicide.

“Looks to me like some junkie liked the big car and the cut of the expensive looking suit of a John Doe. The bastard must have come up behind him. He nearly cut his head off while cutting his throat. By the way, that’s not official.

The coroner is still on his way, but it’s sloppy amateur work to my eye. Wallet, watch, and any rings all gone. The plates just lead to a company. We’ll check that out in the morning. My sergeant is checking with the valets to see if any of them saw any suspicious action with cars. I’d bet they didn’t. This junkie probably melted away on foot.

A big black sergeant walked up to the three men.

“Hey, Roy. These to boys are Fed’s. They’re okay. What you find out?”, asked Collins in greeting the sergeant.

“Not much luitenant. The valets said it’s still slow tonight. A good number of cars have come in, but only a late model caddy with a classy looking dame drove out in the last half hour. She doesn’t sound like our type.”, replied Sergeant Jones.

“Nah.”, replied Collins. “We’re looking for a junkie or some other punk type here.”

“Bronski looked about to say something. His partner pulled him aside before he did, They talked quickly and quietly.”

“Let them be, Bronk. We know what we need to know. Better she think the police are looking for a junkie while our people try to find her.”

Bronski nodded in agreement then thanked the luitenant, “Looks like one for you guys. Good luck.”

Remo Dawg arrived at his office just after nine. As usual Candy had opened up and was deeply engrossed. Today, her computer screen had her full attention.

“Hey Candy.”

“Hey Remo.”, replied Candy looking up slightly startled. She hadn’t even heard Remo come in.

“Got a new hot man porn site, beautiful? Your pretty nose couldn’t have been much closer to that screen.”, teased Remo

“Gave up porn sites when they cancelled “G-men Gone Wild“, Reem.”, quipped Candy. “Some intriguing stuff on this CO chat board over the weekend. Take a look.”

“Derek or Hogg?”

“Neither. This is some guy using GEMS for his ID. He is a regular but

checked out as an independent. I seem to remember he is a retired school teacher.”

‘What’s GEMS have to say, Candy?”

“It’s not so much his opinion. It’s a link he posted to a Boston Globe story.

Take a look.”, replied Candy clicking to the article.

Remo did.

“Hmm, “otherwise un-related” my ass. How about you.”, said Remo reading her screen over Candy’s shoulder. “So what’s this GEMS think of the implications of this to CO?”, he added with a smile.

Candy grinned. “He says it’s a setback for the company he has to study some. Still, he does comment that the business model is strong, and says he expects the company will recover and prosper. His sentiment on the stock is still “buy.” on the stock.

“Guess our new friend, Derek, would call him one of the faithful.”, chuckled Derek. “Anything else earthshaking?

“Nah, mostly the usual crap. Derek was right. Hogg’s ID’s are up to their usual silly slanders, pumpings and tricks like last Friday at Great Woods

never happened. Ryder is a fag, a liar, and a phony who knows nothing about golf etcetera.

Derek is showing better taste. He is totally absent as far as I can see. Even Ryder’s bear buddy, DaveyW43, seems to have taken the weekend off. It’s just the Haber-ID’s, this flaming idiot Dunno, and a few one post interlopers like this GEMS.

This GEMS is the only one of the interlopers with anything meaningful to say and none beside Haber-Hogg and Dunno have commented on it. They, of course, chide him for being so conservative with just a “buy“ instead of a “strong buy“. They spew forth as always that this is a great buying opportunity. This time its because it’s a “contra-logical situation.” Whatever the hell that means.”

“Hey, we got plenty of new prep work to do. Remember that our new client, Mr. Blue, is coming in at four about some problems he has with Krispy Kreme.”, said Remo. Then he added with a smile “At least that should be a sweet case. What say we can this cold case for now. We can take another gander at lunchtime to see if there is anything amusing happening.”

“This client come from the same source?”, asked Candy.

“Yea, same source, Davey Wilcox. At least we’re sure to get paid if we don’t get killed.”

===============

It was a busy morning of research. Mr. Blue’s case against Krispy Kreme seemed more legitimate. On paper, Blue seemed a far more real type than the duplicitous fool, Mr. Hogg. Still Remo was troubled as to why the SEC had just closed its investigation of KKD with only some hefty fines for three former executives. He could call Davey Wilcox, his contact at the SEC, but he knew better. Once again he would just do what he was being paid by the SEC to do.

Remo’s stomach was growling so he sought out Candy. He found her with her eyes again glued to her monitor.

“Hey, Candy, what say we hit the Fenway Bistro for some burgers and a beer?”

“Not for me Reem. There is some breaking news on CO on the chat board.

I’ve got some sandwich meat and bread in the fridge. Why not let me make you a good home cooked meal while you take a look at this news with me?”, urged Candy.

“A home cooked sandwich, huh? You trying to seduce me darlin?”, grinned Remo.

“Always baby. First, take a look at this revised story in The Globe.”, persisted Candy clearly engrossed.

Remo focused his eyes on her screen appreciating her delicate scent of Channel as he did.

“Oh boy, commented Remo. The plot grows thicker. This Maria is your new friend right?”

“Yep, the one you haven’t succeeded in finding an uncle with a job for her

as yet, super chief.”, returned Candy.

“This show we gotta see.”, commented Remo enthusiastically. “Any other earth shaking revelations, Cain Employment?

“Oh yea there is more! Reem, look at this post from DaveyW43. It will blow you away. It’s really to us!!”

Remo looked at the post reading it twice.

Think this is Derek being cute?, Candy?, asked Remo sincerely.

“Not likely, Reem. Remember I told you I couldn’t track this ID’s IPC beyond learning its in the DC area. I’ll tell you who I think it could be.”

“Geez. wonder girl, I don’t know any Davey’s except…except...”

“You got it, big brain, except Davey Wilcox. I assume he is in DC, right?”, interrupted Candy finishing his sentence and more.

“Gotta think a minute on this one, Candy…… Oh by the way you try to cash your check yet?”

“Yep, photo copied it for a souvenir then deposited on Saturday. I probably can check on it tomorrow.”

Do that, and let’s see what develops. Can we have that home cooked meal or do have more to wow me with?”, replied Remo still musing on the Davey connection.

“There are plenty of Haber-Hoggey and Dunno explanations why this is still

a glass half full. Amuse yourself while I go slave in our kitchenette.”

===============

Later that afternoon in Back Bay’s haven of truth, justice and….

“I’m glad this new client is not due till four. This a half-hour or an hour show, Candy?”

“Don’t know. I generally work my tail off for this dreamboat guy during the day, Reem. Don’t have time for much afternoon cable TV, ya know.”, jested Candy.

“Hey there’s my girl. Turn up the sound will you?”, asked Remo.

They both listened to every word.

“Joining me with Miss Maria Generro today will be retired Judge Anthony Morgan, an expert on both civil and criminal law regarding publicly traded companies.

So Maria, you told me when we spoke earlier about not being able to reach any of Controversial Organics executives. What is with that? questioned Sandy after finishing her intro.

“Well I sure can’t reach Mr. Glibmore now.”, smiled Maria wistfully. That’s understandable, right? The police can’t even find Miss De Angelo. About the only other sort of executive that ever came in the office was this guy Sammy. I really never knew what he did. He just told me he was an advisor.

I don’t have a phone or even an email contact for him. He hasn’t come in today nor called.”, responded Maria.

“Maria, I thought this company had many executives and vice presidents. Now you are telling me there were only three people besides you at their headquarters?

“Oh we have plenty of vice presidents and all, Miss Wallace. Actually, I sometimes wondered why so many since we we’re just a start up company. I’m told they all work from home or are on the road full time. I just answer their phones and take the messages. Then email the messages to them. I never hear more. You would think some would occasionally call to say thanks or even just “Hi.”.

Didn’t you try to call these other executives, Maria?, asked Sandy.

Oh, that’s strange too. I don’t have phone numbers for any of them except Jimbo Blake our PR exec. I just have their email addresses at Yahoo. Guess the company gets a group discount from Yahoo.

I’ve called Mr. Blake but his secretary says he is unavailable. She is not sure when he will be. She sounded sincere even kind of worried. And yes, I have emailed each of the others, but none has responded. Like I said they never do.”, returned Maria.

“Told ya sport.” said Candy to Remo playfully sticking her fingers in his ribs.

“So Judge Morgan. Who owns and runs this company now?”, asked Sandy as the camera turned to her other guest.

“The share holders still own the company, Sandy. That point is very clear though I understand all of its assets are obligated by some pretty hefty loans and such in this particular case. As to who is running the company now, that’s anyone’s guess. …….. Maria may well have a new job till the

shareholders nominate a new slate of officers. Then there has to be a vote of the shareholders.” said the judge flashing a quick smile. “That could take some time. I understand the shares stopped trading after the news about Contessa The Doll so there is time.”

“See Candy, your pretty girl club friend is still fixed up with a spot.”, laughed Remo. “She looks pretty hot too. Got her number?”

“Yea, maybe she can offer you a real position you’d like if your willing to stop playing at being a PI, Reem”, returned Candy laughing.

“So Judge Morgan. Would what you advise any shareholders or prospective share holders about this company?”, followed up Sandy.

“Remember, Sandy, I’m a judge not an investment advisor. However, as a private individual with some knowledge of the stock market, I would tell them to be very cautious. The sky has fallen.”

“We’re about out of time for this segment. Any last words, Maria?”, asked Sandy.

The judge‘s words had inspired Maria‘s ambitions if not her rhetoric. “Well, you know, I just love gardening and I know a lot about fertilizers and flowers. If there are any shareholders watching out there. Please vote for me to be the next CEO of Controversial Organics. I’m smart and I’m hot.”, concluded Maria with a winning smile.

It was Sandy again. “Sorry to interrupt this lively discussion, We’re now switching to a live feed from Washington with some breaking news from

Senator Giordello related to this story.

The well known face of the handsome well coifed face senator Giordello appeared on the screen. “…….I am appalled and shocked at the apparent illicit goings on in a good number of today’s smaller publicly traded companies without the SEC doing anything to thwart them.

I and my colleagues in the Congress well understand that the SEC has many companies to overview and control. We can well understand their concentration of their attention on the larger ones. However, the developing situation at Controversial Organics again only too well illustrates the need for serious review of SEC practices by my committee…..”

“Hmm.” remarked Remo as the Senator carried on in apparent outrage for another ten minutes.

Sandy was back once the senator had finished.

“Well, I’m afraid that live feed of Senator Giordello’s remark has used up the rest of our time. Thanks to both Maria Generro and Judge Morgan for being with us and providing some most interesting discussion.”, closed Sandy adding “and best of luck Maria on your nascent campaign for President.”

“Hey, at least Sandy didn’t “Laugh Out Loud” about Maria‘s speech at the end. That’s the right Internet speak isn’t it, my online wizard?”, remarked Remo all smiles.

Candy wanted to defend womanhood, but knew this wasn’t the time. After a few minutes of exchanging thoughts, Candy had a suggestion.

“Let’s see if our favorite chat room trolls caught any of this show and have anything to say on it. We still have a half hour before this Mr. Blue is due to show.”, she concluded already en route to her comp.

Remo leaned back contentedly watching her rhythmically swaying backside as she walked away with his usual sensual fantasies about it.

A short while later Candy cried excitedly, “Remo, come here right away!”, It’s another DaveyW43 post. Its somewhat cryptic for others but reads pretty darn clear for us.”

Remo looked over Candy’s shoulder at her monitor’s screen.

“Geez, Candy that headline is repeated over and over till it fills a whole page of posts. Each is posted by DaveW43. They all have a two stars rating except the most recent one which has a one star rating.”, noted Remo

“Yep, Remo, and each is exactly the same. I’ve checked a half dozen of them. Your mysterious SEC friend Davey is still playing with The Lizard but not. Apparently, the fool lizard thinks it a joke or that he can make the news go away with some “one stars“.”, laughed Candy adding. “See how each post is space three or four minutes apart.”

Remo started to read still immersed in a playful fantasy involving Candy and her backside on his mind and a renewed awareness of her pleasant scent. . Those thoughts quickly vanished as he read.

Remo Dawg whistled then leaned backed to contemplate that message for a few seconds before otherwise reacting.

“Shit, Candy, Dave7 could have just called.”, he smiled.

Candy laughed.

“Yea, but I guess giving this Hogg-Lizard exercise sort of becomes pretty addictive, huh?, returned Candy with a big grin.

BUT NOT

READ THE EXCITING SEQUEL “DEAD PEONIES” COMING SOON