The Little Black Book

The Little Black Book:The Christmas Murder

By Connie Soles

I barely knew Walter, even though he worked in the office next to mine. We kept meeting at the elevator as we left work at almost the same time of day Monday through Friday. Like most elevator rides, the decent started and ended in silence. It is just weird to me for a group of people riding in an elevator to remain completely quiet and not say a word.

Apparently Walter felt the same way. Eventually he started a conversation with me on December 18th. The next afternoon on the elevator, Walter asked me to be his date for the yearly Christmas party on Christmas Eve. He said that his company asked him to take the dance floor immediately after dinner, encouraging less confident employees to join in the fun. Walter said he looked forward to doing so. I thought “why not—a man volunteering to dance? “

I remember all of the boys in high school standing in the corner of the cafeteria, turning their backs to the dance floor and hoping no brave girl would ask one of them to dance. Walter must have been privy to the advice of a sister, or friend who filled him in on the importance of a boy knowing how to dance, because girls always wanted to dance. A boy who could dance and dance well could always attract girls. So I decided to say yes to his invitation. This could turn out to be a “night to remember.” At the very least I would have a dance partner and oh I loved to dance!

A very posh nightclub had been rented for the company Christmas party and everyone from the office was going to be there. A Top Ten band was playing my favorite song so as we entered the ballroom I began dancing all by myself, putting me in a wonderful mood.

I was wearing a smashing red, glittering, low-cut party dress. As I passed a mirror I thought, “girl you are smoking hot.” The object of my appearance was to attract attention and possibly land a wealthy, good-looking man who might apply for the job as my current boyfriend. I had literally abandoned my date, Walter, flirting with all of the good-looking men in the establishment. A woman can never have too many male possibilities. Yes, I admit I was looking for a husband candidate. If Walter didn’t work out, I was initiating by backup plan.

It was 22 degrees that evening with a brutally cold Northeast wind whipping down the street, upsetting trash cans and sending debris everywhere. Even though I knew what bad weather awaited me, I stepped outside to catch a breath of air to cool me off and clear my head. At that frigid temperature the cooling off didn’t take long and I quickly returned to the warmth of the club ready to dance a few more times. That’s when I spotted Walter retrieving his coat and searching for his keys and credit card in his inside overcoat pocket.

As Walter paid our tab, I decided to wait for him in his gorgeous red Mercedes which was parked in front of the club. . Walter had not locked up his beautiful ride, being far too trusting in my opinion. So I decided to get in, start the car, turn on the heater and activate the heated seats. How good those heated seats were going to feel on this cold December night. Me in my red dress sitting in a fabulous car was what I called a perfect ending to a wonderful night.

All the streetlights on the block were out and it was so dark I didn’t immediately notice a man slumped over the steering wheel. I thought he had passed out from too much partying and I was still feeling the influence of too many cocktails as well. It took a few seconds for me to realize what had happened. As I reached over and shook him, attempting to awaken him, I let out a scream as he fell to one side alerting me to a sobbering fact ----he was not drunk, he was DEAD!

His body was still warm so I figured I had just missed the killer, if this were a planned murder. I was silently praying that this was a natural death and my discovery of his body was not going to put me in any danger of being the prime suspect. Prompted by my passion for mystery novels and following the police MO in this situation, I immediately searched his coat pockets to try to discover the identity of the newly deceased. NOTHING! No form of identification.

Walter attempted to enter the driver’s the door, discovering my dilemma, and helped me lay the deceased face down across the front seat so that we could search his back pockets. AGAIN NOTHING!

We looked under the front seat and found a small brown paper bag. As we opened the bag $120,000.00 fell out onto the floor. Why had the killer, if indeed this were a murder, left all of that money. Was this a robbery gone bad? Had I opened the door of the club at just the wrong moment, leaving no time for the killer to retrieve the money? Had this man died of a heart attack or stroke? Nothing made any sense!

We knew we must act quickly to do a thorough search before a police patrol car passed, or other exiting party-goers noticed what we were up to. We searched the trunk. Once again we drew a blank. There was no spare tire, or jack, or any other usual trunk items. How odd!

Walter suddenly scratched his head in amazement realizing that even though this looked like his car, it was not his car. He faithfully kept a spare tire, jumper cables, a jack, and other small tools in the trunk, so he said--none of the expected items in the trunk of an intelligent man’s car.

Walter pulled out his cell phone looking for the VIN number of his Mercedes that he had stored there in case of an emergency. Walter apparently was one of those guys who was always prepared for any emergency. He looked at the front windshield comparing his notes with the actual VIN number. They were not a match!

We had stumbled upon a mystery and knew we had to contact the police before making a quick escape. Our final search effort was to open the glove box hoping to find any identifying evidence.

Inside the glove box was a single envelope containing a small key. Attached to the key was a tag bearing the name of a local bank with an apparent lock box number on it. Adding to our excitement was the fact that this was Walter’s bank–-a blessing which would give us access to the vault, no questions asked as we located the lock box.

The big question now was what happened to Walter’s car? And why were all of the street lights out? Was this a set up ? Was Walter the intended victim? Lots of questions, but no answers!

Walter and I walked down a long block attempting to hide our obvious case of nerves, trying to decide our next move.

We called for a cab to take us to a motel to spend the night. We dared not go home where we might be apprehended in case anyone we worked with had seen us checking out the Mercedes and could be readily identified.

In the morning we rented a car and hurriedly drove to the bank. Nervously we signed in and entered the vault. Walter’s hands were shaking as he found the box and attempted to open it. The box opened easily! We didn’t find anything we expected. All we found was a “little black book.”

“After all of this intrigue all we find is his little black book with the names of women the deceased had dated”, Walter shouted. “Well, I said, “we should take a look”. Thinking we’d find the names and phone numbers of his favorite dates, instead we discovered the names of ten well-known businessmen. Alongside one name, underlined in red. was the word “paid” indicating a payment of exactly $120,000. In addition there were questions marks beside each of the remaining names. The next victims?

We assumed the black-book-owner was a blackmailer. Probably one of the intended victims had killed this unknown man. This assumption spooked us so we ran out of the bank with the little black book hidden in the inside pocket of Walter’s overcoat.

Perhaps the bank was being watched. Maybe someone had seen the two of us entering the bank together. Panic time?

The next day according to a television newscast we watched from our hotel room, the body belonged to Neil Anderson, the owner of the building Walter and I worked in. This was a hit job, definitely! “He was killed with a 45 slug in his back,” stated the announcer, no suspects were apprehended.”

Later in the same broadcast the reporter said that someone had discovered Walter’s car with the driver’s door still open and the engine running. It was found in the parking lot of that same television station, an obvious setup! When the police ran the plates the owner, Walter, was identified.

With that piece of information, we knew we had to get out of town, but first we had to devise the perfect escape plan. It was almost dark so we decided to find an obscure hotel that would not be anyone’s idea of an ideal place to stay. With $120,000.00 in our possession we could check into any place anonymously being able to pay in cash. For a short while we felt safe for the first time since late last night.

Before retiring for the night, we checked out the little black book more closely. The second name was John Whiting, a name that appeared on the tenants list affixed to a plaque in the lobby beside the elevator.

Perhaps cameras had secretly been mounted in certain offices in order to collect blackmail material. At least it was a good theory. We just needed a few more puzzle pieces.

We quickly drifted off to sleep, worn out by all of the trauma of the preceding day. Peaceful sleep didn’t last long as I was awakened by Walter’s blood curdling scream. I managed to shake Walter awake. When he finally calmed down, Walter said he had just had a horrible dream.

In vivid detail Walter told me every nerve-wracking detail of a very puzzling murder. The only real thing we eventually discovered was the fact that we had spent the night together—not in some hideaway joint, but the hotel next door to the Christmas Party location.

Hurriedly dressing we went to see if Walter’s car was where we had left it the day before. There it was right where it should have been. Walter opened the driver’s side door and out dropped the little black book! ?????edly drove to the bank. Nervously we signed in and entered the vault. Walter’s hands were shaking as he found the box and attempted to open it. The box opened easily! We didn’t find anything we expected. All we found was a “little black book.” “After all of this intrigue all we find is his little black book with the names of women the deceased had dated”, Walter shouted. “Well, I said, “we should take a look”. Thinking we’d find the names and phone numbers of his favorite dates, instead we discovered the names of ten well-known businessmen. Alongside one name, underlined in red. was the word “paid” indicating a payment of exactly $120,000. In addition there were questions marks beside each of the remaining names. The next victims? We assumed the black-book-owner was a blackmailer. Probably one of the intended victims had killed this unknown man. This assumption spooked us so we ran out of the bank with the little black book hidden in the inside pocket of Walter’s overcoat. 3 Perhaps the bank was being watched. Maybe someone had seen the two of us entering the bank together. Panic time? The next day according to a television newscast we watched from our hotel room, the body belonged to Neil Anderson, the owner of the building Walter and I worked in. This was a hit job, definitely! “He was killed with a 45 slug in his back,” stated the announcer, no suspects were apprehended.” Later in the same broadcast the reporter said that someone had discovered Walter’s car with the driver’s door still open and the engine running. It was found in the parking lot of that same television station, an obvious setup! When the police ran the plates the owner, Walter, was identified. With that piece of information, we knew we had to get out of town, but first we had to devise the perfect escape plan. It was almost dark so we decided to find an obscure hotel that would not be anyone’s idea of an ideal place to stay. With $120,000.00 in our possession we could check into any place anonymously being able to pay in cash. For a short while we felt safe for the first time since late last night. Before retiring for the night, we checked out the little black book more closely. The second name was John Whiting, a name that appeared on the tenants list affixed to a plaque in the lobby beside the elevator. Perhaps cameras had secretly been mounted in certain offices in order to collect blackmail material. At least it was a good theory. We just needed a few more puzzle pieces. We quickly drifted off to sleep, worn out by all of the trauma of the preceding day. Peaceful sleep didn’t last long as I was awakened by Walter’s blood curdling scream. I managed to shake Walter awake. When he finally calmed down, Walter said he had just had a horrible dream. In vivid detail Walter told me every nerve-wracking detail of a very puzzling murder. The only real thing we eventually discovered was the fact that we had spent the night together—not in some hideaway joint, but the hotel next door to the Christmas Party location. Hurriedly dressing we went to see if Walter’s car was where we had left it the day before. There it was right where it should have been. Walter opened the driver’s side door and out dropped the little black book! ?????