Chapter 8: Revelations

The pleasant looking woman who guarded the entrance gate to Whispering Willows Resort appeared to be somewhere in her in her early forties. Her face glowed with good health and friendliness. She wore a tee shirt and a cut off jeans bottom for a uniform.

Mark checked for a panty line. It appeared she wore no underwear, neither bra nor panties. Mark decided that if she did wear panties, they were thongs at most. He wondered if he was beginning to go for older women. He then thought of his mother and shuddered.

"Hello there," she greeted them. Rachel told her they were headed to the Willows.

She gave them a second smile of welcome and said, "You folks picked a great weekend. The weather forecast is for sun through Monday. Have a good time." Mark could understand why she was hired to be a greeter.

They drove through the gate and parked in front of a low modern looking log cabin with an "office" sign over the door. Another friendly looking woman in her late thirties looked up from her desk and said, "Hello, May I have your names?"

"This is Rachel Jones," Mark began.

"I do not have a reservation for Jones, I'm sorry," the woman interrupted him.

"How about Mark Hunter?" He interrupted her.

"I don't have a reservation for a ... oh shit!" she exclaimed.

"Have you pulled that web site down yet?" He asked her.

"No I did not. I have other things to do than play around with that thing."

"Is your name Rhonda Wheeler?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes it is." She frowned at him.

Rachel sensed the coming explosion. She stepped in between Mark and the desk. "I am Mister Hunter's personal assistant. May I see the financial records for Whispering Willows?"

"No," Rhonda Wheeler answered. Then before Mark could lose his temper and start yelling, she told him, "The executor of your father's estate has them. Mike told me about you."

"When did the attorney pick them up, Ms. Wheeler?" Rachel asked in a pleasant voice.

"He picked them up about an hour ago and took them over to Mike's lodge." She looked back and forth at Mark and Rachel.

"He said he would be over there when your mother showed up. I was to send her right on over." She finally began to look worried.

"I have never been there before," Mark told her. He felt a familiar sinking sensation in his stomach. "Please give me directions to get to Mike's Cabin and call the sheriff's department. Whomever you gave the records definitely does not work for me."

"Follow that drive over there," she pointed to a two-track trail that looked barely wide enough to let the Explorer through. "It's a short cut." She looked worried as she watched Mark begin to lead Rachel outside.

"I'll take your Explorer," he told her. "You stay here and help detain my mother when she arrives. I don't care if she is my mother, I want her butt in jail." Any residual feelings Mark had for his domineering mother had just ended. Mark thought of her as a stranger.

Rachel heard a car door slam and looked out the window. Claire Hunter had arrived. Mark stepped outside onto the porch and grabbed his mother's car keys from her hand. "I'll take those."

"You! How did you get here?" Claire demanded. She seemed angry her son was already there ahead of her, rather than frightened.

"Come right in, Mommy Dearest," Mark told her and grabbed her upper arm.

He looked at Rhonda Wheeler, "Have you called the sheriff's department yet?"

"Uh no," she answered.

"Damn it, you get a deputy here right now or you're fired!" he yelled at her.

She was in a daze when she grabbed a microphone off her desk, pressed the talk button on the side and said, "Deputy Bill Jackson to the office please, Deputy Bill Jackson to the office."

She barely set the microphone back on the desk when a deep voice boomed from the door, "You called?"

Rachel turned toward the voice and gasped. A stereotypical Mike Tyson look-alike stood in the door. She noticed his skin color first, his huge almost ebony muscular body second and his penis third. She could not take her eyes away from it. "Oh my god!" she whispered and backed up. It hung halfway down to his knees.

Well used to her reaction, the big man grinned, "No ma'am, not God. Maybe one of his advisers."

Mark had gone through high school with Black guys almost as well hung. He was unimpressed. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Deputy sheriff Bill Jackson at your service," the naked man answered.

Rachel backed as far away from his as she could. "No!" she whispered.

"Lady," the newcomer told her, "I don't know what your problem is, but deal with it. I am a sheriff's deputy and this is my day off."

He turned to Rhonda. "Now what is so important you interrupted me while I pursued my goal to attain the perfect sun tan?"

"This is Mark Hunter, Mike's nephew."

"No kidding? Mike was a good friend." He reached to shake Mike's hand.

Mike ignored the hand as he saw Claude's car pull out of the driveway to Mikes house. "No!" he yelled and ran past the startled naked deputy. He jumped into Clair's new van, started it and backed into the front of Claude's Mercedes.

He jumped out, smashed the side window with the heel of his hand and grabbed Claude around the neck. "Unlock the door."

"It's not locked," the lawyer gasped as he tried to breathe. "Let go of me."

Mark let go and backed up two paces. "Get out."

The big deputy grabbed Mark from behind and dragged him back. "Stop. What's going on here?"

"I had him arrested for embezzlement, attempted theft and I don't know what else last night when he burglarized my hotel room with the help of my mother. Yet here he is free and running around loose this morning.

"He came up here, said he was my lawyer and let that dim bulb leave here with all the records to this place."

"Hold it there kid, that dim bulb is my lady friend." The deputy loomed over Mark.

"You have stupid friends." I want him arrested again. I want my mother arrested as an accomplice and as soon as we are done up here I am going to complain to the bar association. I want his ass on a platter."

"Kid, don't try to tell me my job," the deputy told him.

"Then do your damned job," Mark snapped back at the big deputy. "If they are not taken into custody I intend to start on you next." He shifted into Warrior mode.

"I am not Kid, I am Mark Hunter. I own this place and here at least I say what goes. Mike was my father, not my uncle," he added.

"Bill, You might want to get your 'mighty spear of justice' covered. I called your sub station and they are sending out two cars," Rhonda told him.

"Yeah. Honey, go get me my uniform pants and shirt," he ordered Rhonda. "I better stay right here until we get this mess straightened out.

Rachel stared in horror between the naked deputy and Rhonda. She went to Mark for protection. "No," she whispered and grabbed him around the waist. She tried to erase the image of the naked Black man from her memory

"Here, Big Guy," Rhonda said as she brought out underwear, a pair of khaki shorts and a shirt with a deputy sheriff patch on the shoulder.

When he was dressed, Rachel relaxed a little but maintained her distance from the big man. She told Mark, "Claude has the records he took from Ms. Wheeler."

Rhonda said, "Yes. He put the ledger and the CDs in his brown attaché case.

The big deputy barely finished buttoning his shirt when two cars with Sheriff's Department logos pulled up.

After a half hour of questioning, the sergeant who came out was undecided as to whether he had probable cause to affect an arrest.

Mark became impatient over the foot dragging. "He stole my attaché case. It's in his car."

"Wait," Bill Parker ordered.

Mark ignored him and brought out an attaché case with no outside markings on it. "See?" He held it up.

"That's mine!" Claude exclaimed, "You stay out of it. It has my personal papers in it."

"This attaché case contains my personal financial records," Mark told them. All papers in there with the Hunter name on them are my personal property."

"I claim attorney client privilege and I refuse to permit you to open that case."

"You have no privilege. I had you arrested for theft and other crimes. I fired you before that and those papers are mine. I'll show you." The attaché case was not locked. When Mark opened it the first file they saw had the Hunter Manufacturing logo.

"See?" Mark showed them. "My papers."

Claire had remained silent until then. "You fool!" she exclaimed, "You are going to ruin everything. I'm sorry I ever had you."

She turned toward Rachel. "You just helped ruin Mark's inheritance from his Grandfather, you aging sex driven fool."

Rachel flinched when she heard Claire's accusation and didn't answer.

"Now do you have probable cause?" Mark asked the sergeant, contempt showing in every word.

"Mark," Rachel warned him.

"Yes Mister Hunter, we do." The sergeant looked at Mark and added, "I don't give a damn what you think of me. However, I refuse to short circuit the legal process to satisfy the whims of a rich kid."

Mark thought about what the sergeant said and apologized. "You're right. I am pretty uptight because this thief was let go last night." The sergeant nodded.

"Rachel, I will go in with them and sign whatever papers they have for me. You stay here and decide whether or not I keep her on as manager here." Rhonda was filled with remorse as she realized the extent she had misjudged and underestimated Mark.

Rachel spoke up, "Mark, we can come back here later and make that decision. I am a complaining witness." She winced inside at the thought of Mark alone with a bunch semi hostile of cops.

He nodded his agreement and turned back toward Rhonda. "Do you think you can sit here and not screw up again?"

"Hey," Bill Parker said. "That is my lady you are talking to there. Keep it cool."

"Hey," Mark replied, "That is my employee I am talking to there so butt out. If you don't like it, tough luck. I can ban you from ever setting foot on this property and I will."

The big deputy took a threatening step toward Mark. Mark dropped into a defensive stance and seemed to glide as he came toward the deputy. "Your move, Dumbo. Try me."

Parker moved fast. Mark moved faster. He grabbed and Mark slipped away. "Big fat punk," Mark said in a low voice. "Try again."

The big man forgot he was a deputy sheriff and made a fast lunge. Mark swayed to one side, used the big man's body as a fulcrum and bounced over him. "I bet you do better with women and drunks, don't you?"

"Stop this!" the sergeant yelled.