HOME OF THE RED FOX - Segment Thirteen

Chapter 61

         When Randall and Steele entered Walker’s apartment around 9 p.m., Jack met them at the door and brought them down the hallway into the living area where Walker, Samantha, and Edith sat sharing an after-dinner drink. After Walker poured the drinks of their choice and introduced his mother, he reminded Randall he had promised to tell them about the case of the chocolate-covered hand.

         “Oh, yeah,” said Steele, the memory still clear in his mind. “That was an odd one, wasn’t it?” He settled back in his comfortable chair, ready to jump in if his friend needed help with the story. Randall gazed off in the distance, remembering the day so long ago that almost cost him his life. Then, without any further prompting from the others, he started in with the case known around the SFPD as Death by Chocolate.

         “The TV weather forecasters predicted rain for San Francisco and the surrounding area later in the day. Up in Petaluma, people had lined up to tour a local chocolate factory. When the doors opened at 8:30, the waiting men, women, but mostly children walked down the long hallway to where the factory employees made these delicious candies. Through large glass windows, the tourists could see huge vats where chocolate swirled endlessly. Parents looked at each other in dismay as they suddenly realized what they were getting themselves into with their hyperactive and noisy offspring. It was too late, however, to try convincing the children a trip to Alcatraz would be more fun.

         “As the tourists stopped by one window opposite a large vat, a skinny woman suddenly screamed and pointed through the window. Floating in the vat on top of the thick dark chocolate, pushed round and round by turning paddles, was a human hand.”

         Samantha wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought of good chocolate ruined by adding a severed hand. Randall grinned when he saw her expression and continued.

         “When her husband pounded on the window to get the attention of the employees inside, the woman fainted. The children looked eagerly at the unexpected treat, not bothered at all. Most of them played more gory video games. A human hand floating in chocolate was just a bonus to what had so far been a boring morning. ‘Kewl,’ one 10-year-old boy reportedly said in response to seeing the hand.

         “At this point, they called us to investigate. With two of my staff, Anthony Greene and Angela Starkey, I walked through the factory room, now empty of its employees and visitors. That is, empty except for an older man, pale and trying hard not to look at the vat surrounded by a yellow police tape. Two policemen stood just at the door to the room staying out of our way, ready to help if needed.

         “I originally talked with Mr. Pitts of security away from the vat. Afterwards, I returned to confer with my two staff members who were examining the hand to ask if there was anything to report.

         “Angela remarked, ‘Well, chocolate-covered hands won’t be a big seller here!’ She instantly regretted her quip when I didn’t crack a smile but just stared wordlessly at her. She’d forgotten for the moment my lack of sense of humor at crime scenes.

         “I continued, as if Angela had not spoken, ‘What have you found so far?’ and ended the conversation with, ‘Angela, be sure to get it to Dr. Burke right away. Anthony, come with me. We can check outside since there’s nothing else here for us.’ After Angela bagged the hand and left for the morgue in San Francisco, Mr. Pitts guided us outside to check out the factory’s grounds.”

         Of all the people in the room who lived at the mansion, Jack was the only one familiar with San Francisco and the bedroom town of Petaluma. Randall quickly explained to the others the location of the two cities, Petaluma being about 50 miles north of San Francisco up the 101 freeway. He went on with his story.

         “We left Mr. Pitts sitting nervously in the patio, probably wishing the terrible day would end. Three hours went by after we took off in opposite directions, slowly examining the gravel and soil, but we found nothing helpful. Anthony and I, now hot and sticky, met back at the patio. Mr. Pitts surprised us by bringing out tall, cold glasses of iced coffee.

         “The air over the morning had become muggy, a precursor to the expected storm, and our shirts were sticking to our bodies with sweat. Anthony sat down at the table in the patio practically gulping down the iced coffee, grateful for it and the shade the table’s umbrella provided from the hot sun. When I sat down to join the two men, my cell phone went off. I heard Angela’s voice on the other end. After listening to what she had to report, I told we were heading back to join her.

         “My thoughts kept going to the child whose hand we had found. Where was the rest of the person? Was he or she still alive somewhere?”

Chapter 62

         His friends, including Steele, saw a shudder go through Randall and realized the memory of what he would tell them next was one he would prefer to forget.

         “With Anthony behind the wheel, as I sat next to him working on updating our notes, we sped from Petaluma towards the Golden Gate Bridge leading into San Francisco. Because of an eight-car pileup on the freeway near the county line, we had to take back roads between Sonoma and Marin counties. The sky, only minutes before filled with bright sunshine, started darkening from the advancing storm, and the first drops of rain began falling. Sheets of driving rain, making driving difficult, soon followed these. Anthony didn’t slow down, though. He was in a rush to get back to work before the roads became impassable.

         “As the SUV slid around a corner, I suddenly fell against the passenger side’s door. It broke my concentration and finally made me aware of the weather and the dangerous condition of the road. The last clear thought I had is of yelling out, ‘Slow down, Anthony. Let’s get back there in one piece.’ The words were no sooner out of my mouth then the SUV suddenly hydroplaned and crashed out of control through a guardrail and down the long steep hill on the other side. Someone told me later the vehicle caught on a large rock halfway down, causing it to roll over twice. It ended on its roof, against a large tree near the bottom, deep in a ditch.

         “Up on the road, more traffic passed by with everyone trying to watch the road through the torrential rain. They were too intent to notice the damaged railing or muddy wheel tracks disappearing on the other side. The rain dripping from tree limbs onto the bottom of the SUV slowly began leaking into the cabin of the vehicle. We were unconscious and bleeding, hanging upside down and held in place by our buckled seat belts. Only these pieces of strong material saved us from dying on the way down the hill.”

         Randall stopped and looked around him at the others. They were all listening intently to his every word. He knew what came next would not be easy to tell. Randall slowly went on, however, the pain in his voice obvious to all his friends.

         “The rain seeping into the cabin slowly started to rise. Soon it reached the top of our heads as we hung face downward. Anthony had his face protected by the inflated air bag on the driver’s side. The air bag on my side, however, had inflated and deflated quickly, pierced by broken glass from the side window. This left my face almost submerged in the water.

         “When the water, filthy from filtering in through the undercarriage of the SUV, reached my mouth, I started sputtering and quickly regained consciousness. On lifting my head out of the water, I immediately saw the danger we were in. My first task was to get out of the safety harness holding me in place, and I reached around to unlock the belt. After I slipped free, I came down to crouch on the ceiling of the SUV, waist deep in rainwater. After feeling for Anthony’s pulse to check for life and finding it, I unhooked him, being sure to keep his head above water, too.

         “With the water coming in from above rapidly filling the vehicle, I pushed at the driver’s side door against the pressure of the outside water. The door on my side was smashed with no hope of getting out that way. The ditch outside, only recently dry as a bone, had filled up to above the window. Water poured in faster and faster through the inch or so Anthony had left the window open while driving, making opening the door impossible. The electrical system had already shorted out, so using the power window switch was also useless.

         “Having no other choice, I shoved Anthony’s body out of the way and began smashing at the window with swift kicks from my right foot. It took half a dozen tries before the glass shattered, and I sliced my hands badly removing the remainder of the glass. There was simply no time left to be careful with the water filling the cabin. I pushed Anthony out of the window, followed him out, and up to the surface before we drowned.

         “After reaching the surface, I saw staying where we were was too dangerous. The rain was still coming down so heavily it was impossible to see the sides of the ditch. To compound the problem, the howling wind blew water into my face, making it even more difficult to breathe. I quickly became exhausted, with Anthony’s unconscious body getting heavier by the minute.”

         Randall was struggling to get the words out, as the others sat there quietly listening. They were picturing the man they were just starting to know fighting the elements to save the life of his friend. Walker silently got up to refresh Randall’s drink. This gave the Randall a chance to stop or continue with his painful memories. After taking a long drink from his glass, he took a deep breath and went on.

         “When I tried with one last effort to make some headway to the ditch’s bank, my grasp on Anthony began to loosen. As if to add one final straw, the remains of an old wooden shack caught in the raging water headed at breakneck speed towards us. I had mere minutes to get out of the middle of the deadly ditch and to the safety of its banks. Still holding on as tightly as I could with a numb hand under Anthony’s chin, I managed to loop my other hand around one of the waterlogged pieces of wood from the dismantled shed as it swiftly crashed into me. With no strength left and exhausted, I found myself swept further down with the flash flood, never letting go my death grip around his neck.

         “A few miles from the SUV’s crash site, the water we were in raced around a bend in the newly created river. A long, low branch of a tree, partly submerged in the water, hung out over the area. I remember painfully crashing stomach first into it, knocking what remained of my breath out of my body. At this point, I lost my grip on Anthony, and he must have slid under the branch to surface on the other side, tangling in some of its smaller limbs.

         “By now, my clothes were in tatters and hanging from my body. My hands, severely cut in the attempt to get out of the flooded SUV, no longer pained me since they’d long since lost any sensation whatsoever. For long minutes, I just hung over the branch, blinded by the driving rain and dazed. I didn’t even realize Anthony was slowly becoming conscious on the other side of the branch. He wiggled his body out of the limbs, and reached out to grab the larger branch in front of him. He later said his hand touched something that felt like flesh, causing him to shudder, knowing he was more than likely touching a dead body.

         “Anthony found me draped half on and half off the branch and not moving. It gave him hope, though, I was still alive when he saw my body, especially my hands, covered with cuts still seeping blood. The water had calmed down enough for him to duck under the branch. Anthony looked around and grabbed me around my waist. With some effort, he pulled me up on the bank of the ditch to safety.

         “With the sun dipping below the horizon, the cold night settled in. Shivering and knowing a drop in temperature might be fatal to me, Anthony wrapped his arms around my chest in the hopes he could share some of his body heat. He also knew he needed to stay awake in case help was close and decided singing might do the trick.

         “Starting to slide into delirium from weakness and shock, I struggled against being held. Anthony said I kept mumbling about Dr. Burke’s coffee and wanting some and complaining I was so cold. He silently agreed hot coffee would be perfect, though just seeing a friendly face would satisfy him. Never in his life, he said, had his spirits been so low.

         “The various officers conducting the life or death search slowly started reporting back about their lack of success at finding us. They had started at the point where the totaled SUV was and fanned out on both sides of the ditch. As was usual, once the rain had stopped, the water inside the ditch started sinking into the parched ground. This left just a thick layer of mud in its wake. What shortly before had been a wild and dangerous flash flood had settled down to a trickle in the middle of the ditch, and then nothing.

         ”With the darkness of night being only about half an hour away, Steele considered calling off the search until the next morning. He said he called the woman heading the search out in the field and told her to start notifying the others to return to the department for debriefing. She agreed reluctantly and started making the cell phone calls to the men and women up and down the long twisted ditch. One by one, they started back to the central meeting place near the SUV.”

         Randall surprised his listeners when a smile suddenly appeared on his face. When he went on to explain what went on during the search for him and Anthony, they understood and felt their own spirits lifting.

          “The last to be reached were two young women, Rachel and Amy, from the K9 unit. They had managed to get ahead of all the other police with the two dogs and refused to give up even with the call to return.”

          “Isn’t that just like a woman?” said Walker with a laugh in his voice. “Ignoring the boss!” He made sure not to look in Samantha’s direction.

         Randall turned to him and replied, “We were just lucky they did, believe me. Rachel told me later what happened, and I thank whatever being was watching over us they didn’t follow those instructions to stop searching.

         “I was slowly slipping into what probably would have been my final sleep, but Anthony continued to hold me. He was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed, still singing, now more softly from exhaustion. With a yell of surprise, he said he jumped to his feet, dropping me back on the ground as a wet nose nuzzled his face. It’d been one of the dogs, of course. Anthony could only see the two women, angels from Heaven with dirty and happily smiling faces. The dogs jumped up on him, then decided the man on the ground, poor defenseless me, was more interesting. I opened my eyes only to have a slimy tongue lick my face. The other dog was busy sniffing all the delicious smells covering my torn clothes and bruised body.”

         Picturing the nearly naked and exhausted man lying on the ground, examined in various places by a couple dogs, the rest of the group in the room either grinned or winced. Randall ignored the grinning women with an effort and knew the wincing men understood how he felt at that vulnerable moment.

         “Pushing the dog away, I again closed my eyes and became aware of Anthony’s excited voice, as he talked with two women. One of the women was making a hasty cell phone call to her commander at the staging area near the SUV. I just stretched out on the ground to search for the warmth, suddenly taken away from me.”

Chapter 63

         At this point, Steele broke into Randall’s conversation to continue the story for him.

         “Angela led the charge over to SF Memorial Hospital after confirming the men were alive, if not in perfect health. Leaving the department in the care of the remaining officers, I drove the short distance to the hospital to join the others in waiting to hear about their condition. An hour later, Anthony walked out of the ER, slightly the worse for wear and walking under his own steam. His head wore a white bandage around it with a spot of blood showing from the newly stitched wound caused in the initial car crash.

         “Still weak and clearly exhausted, Anthony sat down and slowly told his audience what had happened between Randall’s phone call to Angela in what seemed a lifetime ago and the K9 unit and their wonderful dogs rescuing them. Even while telling his story, Anthony and the rest of us constantly looked to the doors leading to the ER, anxiously waiting for news about Randall. Time dragged on, and every once in a while one of us would remember something about him they wanted to share with the others. Only Angela kept her memories to herself.”

         Randall quietly said, “She later told me she knew there would be a large hole in her life and in her heart if I didn’t survive.” Walker noticed a frown on Samantha’s face at the mention of the other woman’s name. He sat there puzzling over her reaction as Steele finished with his narration.

         “The hours dragged by slowly as more and more people came to join us. Just before dawn, a doctor came out of the ER to join us. He looked tired but pleased with having some good news to report for a change. So many times, he needed to tell those waiting about the death of a loved one. This time, he was glad he didn’t have to do it. ‘He’s alive, still seriously ill, but out of danger. He has fractured ribs, a collapsed lung, and so many cuts all over his body we lost count as we stitched him up,’ he continued. ‘We want to keep him a few days for observation. He’ll need someone to stay with him, to watch out for any complications, when he does go home.’ Dr. Martin started laughing, as everyone in the room volunteered at once to stay with Randall as long as needed.”

         Steele stopped talking and looked over at Randall. He saw reliving the experience was traumatic for his friend and sat watching him slowly bringing his thoughts back to the present. Edith stood up and went to sit on the other sofa next to Randall. The older woman gently took one of his hands in hers, but said nothing.

         Taking a deep breath, Randall smiled when he saw everyone waiting silently for what he would say next. “After the recent earthquakes in San Francisco, we solved the case of the severed chocolate-covered hand. If you don’t mind, I’ll tell you about it another time, all right?” They all agreed it would be best, and the conversation turned to other matters.

         An hour later, Walker was finally alone in his apartment, once more remembering the look on Samantha’s face at the mention of Angela’s affection for Randall. Much as he enjoyed the other man’s company, he was glad when Randall and Captain Steele went back home to San Francisco the following Sunday evening.

Chapter 64

         Around 1 a.m., Walker tossed and turned in his bed, unable to fall asleep. He could not get the memory out of his mind of Samantha’s face when Randall talked about his coworker, Angela. If he did not know better, he would think Samantha was jealous of the other woman. That was ridiculous, though. She did not know Angela and hardly knew Randall, for that matter. Anyway, why should this even bother him?

         Finally, about half an hour later, he gave up and decided to go downstairs for something to eat from the 24-hour snack area. He hoped maybe food would help him fall sleep, as it sometimes did when he had insomnia. Walking across to his bedroom closet, he found and put on a short, dark-green bathrobe over his normal sleeping attire of boxer shorts and old, soft undershirt. He finally slipped his bare feet into slippers. As was his habit, he ignored the elevator and walked down the flights of stairs. It took him only minutes to reach the bottom of the last flight that ended in the entrance room.

         The large area was dark except for the light from the full moon streaming in the large, front window. Even though the temperature outside was below freezing with more snow falling, the room felt warm and cozy to Walker. He was on the last step of the staircase when a sudden, loud noise stopped him. It sounded like someone was plucking the strings of a guitar and playing it badly. He remembered seeing one added to the pile under the window. A staff member, who also enjoyed music, was giving it as a gift to one of the elderly men.

         Walker slowly and softly started walking left across the dark room. He stopped once again when he saw two small red shapes racing towards him. The larger of the two skittered to a halt at his feet and looked up so innocently Walker could only grin down at Zorro, unable to be mad at the fox. Meanwhile, the second one turned before reaching him and dove into the nearby pile of presents, scattering boxes in every direction. Toronado, by now, was almost as big as his mother, but still a young kit at heart. He also was a spoiled animal since every person in the mansion enjoyed feeding or simply playing with him.

         “Toronado, get out of there,” Walker called sternly to the young fox, even though he knew he was wasting his breath. He walked to the pile intent on grabbing the animal. The youngster just ducked out of Walker’s reach, seeming to enjoy the new game. Again, Walker heard the sound of the guitar strings on the left side of the pile of gifts. Zorro was hovering at his feet still while Toronado stood only inches from him. Who else was in the room?

         Gently nudging Zorro out of his way, Walker continued walking towards the sound of the guitar. He tried unsuccessfully to recognize the tune and figured it was one of those heavy metal songs favored by the younger members of his staff. Had one of them also been unable to sleep and come down to play his music in private?

         In the dark, Walker did not see all the scattered presents and tripped over a small one. He fell, landing ungracefully sprawled on the floor. When Zorro came over to investigate by putting her muzzle in his face, Walker quickly got back up on his knees, then to his feet. He muttered loudly and with colorful and varied words. These words included what he thought of the dark, the foxes, and life in general. All the while, he was complaining to the empty air, the sound of someone playing the guitar continued, as if mocking him for his clumsiness.

         Walker finally managed to walk to the area where he remembered he last saw the guitar. He reached down towards the sound, only to let out a startled yelp. Instead of touching the warm flesh of a human, sharp teeth had dug into his outstretched hand. Shaking it loose from his unseen attacker, Walker whirled around on hearing someone laughing from one of the sofas a few feet away. The lamp next to it came on, and he saw Samantha curled up at one end of the sofa, watching him. He tried not to look at her since she was wearing a lacy white robe barely covering a matching floor-length nightgown. Her bare feet peeked out from under the robe and gown. Her long red hair, usually swept up off her neck, was curling down around her shoulders.

         “Serves you right,” she giggled. “You interrupted Rufus playing his masterpiece.” Walker looked back over his shoulder, and sure enough, there sat the Maine Coon cat with one large paw on the strings of the guitar. The two foxes sat together on their haunches nearby. They appeared to be waiting for the cat to become bored with his new toy and join them again in their nightly game of gift box hockey. Already, the three animals had scattered a dozen or so presents around the room and had only stopped when Rufus discovered the musical instrument.

         Walker sat down on the sofa next to Samantha and watched as Rufus finally abandoned the guitar and went to be with the two foxes. “How long have you known it was those three?” he asked, not looking at the woman to avoid seeing the amused look on her face. “You know, you could have told me.”

         Samantha could not help herself and started laughing again at the petulant sound in his voice. Slowly untangling her feet from her nightclothes, she got up to stand in front of him. Walker still was trying without much success to avoid looking at her, a bit embarrassed at not guessing who the nightly vandals were before now.

         “I knew you’d figure it out sooner or later, so why spoil your fun by telling you?” After saying those playful words, Samantha walked away towards the elevator on her way back to her own rooms, leaving Walker finally able to watch her unobserved.

         “Why is it that blasted woman has to…?” He did not finish his sentence, but stared blankly at the quietly seated and watching trio of animals. Eventually, he returned to his own rooms, the reason he came downstairs in the first place forgotten. For the rest of his sleepless night, jumbled thoughts of Samantha, someone he knew was just a valued employee and nothing more, filled his tired and confused mind.

Chapter 65

         Walker woke the next morning, still tired and knowing the day would be too busy for him to stay in bed any longer. The much-anticipated amateur show including the play of “A Christmas Carol” would begin in the ballroom just after sunset. He knew there still were many tasks that needed doing before then.

         For his contribution, he had hired a local group of amateur dancers to put on their show at the mansion for one night only. Because it was a usual holiday tradition, they were performing “The Nutcracker” at the nearby town’s art center, and the manager agreed, without hesitation, to Walker’s request for a special performance. The troop would arrive around noon to give themselves a few hours of rehearsal.

         When Walker got out of bed and walked to the window, he saw the snow had continued falling throughout the night. Whether these performers could make it the many miles from town to the mansion was questionable, as the town plows often were late coming so far out into the countryside. He needed to have someone on his staff clear the circular driveway out front and even use the mansion’s private plow to start on the road to town. Walker knew Toby Cutler would jump at the chance to get outside and drive the plow. He put in a phone call to the young waiter and had to grin at Toby’s enthusiastic response to his request.

         One problem solved, Walker showered, shaved, and dressed quickly in comfortable black trousers, open-neck white shirt, and black loafers without socks. Samantha and his mother had given up trying to persuade this grown man to wear socks, something he had rebelled against doing all his life. When going outside the mansion on a special occasion, only then would Walker dig into the bureau for one of his few pairs of socks.

         Just after 8:30 a.m. when he finally went downstairs and entered the large entrance room, he discovered pandemonium. Walker moved quickly through the room. Staff members hurried by him carrying chairs from the various rooms back to the ballroom. Others were loaded down with costumes for the evening’s play. Walker recognized some as outfits he had found in the wooden box from his hidden room.

         Earlier, volunteers had hastily altered the clothes to fit the people playing the various characters in Dickens’ play. For days, everyone who knew how to use a sewing machine worked on these alterations under Edith’s supervision. The once lonely and unloved woman finally felt needed and was in her element taking on the responsibility. The sunroom in the back of the mansion temporarily became a noisy hive of activity, with sewing machines clacking away and people trying on costumes while commenting loudly on how other outfits looked on their friends. Over all of this, Edith remained serene and quietly brought order to chaos.

         When Walker stopped by the main kitchen to beg a quick cup of coffee from the busy staff, he found Geoffrey elbow deep in dough. The head chef was making the holiday stollen for the buffet he had planned for Christmas day. Next to him on the counter, ready for mixing into the butter-rich bread dough, were large bowls of cherries, pineapple, raisins, and almonds, along with lemon and orange peels. Just before bringing out the completed German delicacy, Geoffrey would dust the many loaves with powdered sugar. He knew from having served them the previous year the bread would disappear within minutes from the buffet tables.

         Without taking his hands out of the dough, Geoffrey pointed his head towards a large industrial-size coffee urn nearby. “You’ll have to get your own today, Boss, and afterwards you’ve got to leave my kitchen. We’re busy in here right now.” Only someone who knew his own worth as Geoffrey did would dare to order his employer around, but Walker never even noticed. When he had hired him away from a San Francisco five-star restaurant, he made it clear Geoffrey could run the kitchen without any interference from him.

         After pouring a large mug of coffee, Walker dutifully obeyed his chef. He wandered back out into the corridor, heading next for the ballroom. On entering the large room, he saw the staff had placed the chairs in comfortable groupings, all facing towards the front stage. He previously had told them he did not want a formal row seating arrangement. Instead, he asked for one where the audience would feel free to mingle and move around between the various entertainments. With about 100 guests, visitors, and staff in the audience and on stage at various times, Walker wanted everyone to be comfortable and relaxed.

         Once again, Joe Carpenter would be the master of ceremonies and introduce each act. Walker joined him where the older man was going over the program with the pianist, Scott Dent. Joe and Scott had become good friends over the past months when they discovered a mutual passion for poker. Most days, the two men were in one of the side rooms with anyone daring enough to join them in their game. Walker knew tonight’s program would run smoothly with these two in charge. After discussing what still needed doing with them, Walker left to check on his two young wards.

         Glancing down at his watch, he saw it was almost 11 a.m. The people from town would be arriving some time in the next few hours, weather permitting. Passing by the large window in the entrance room, he took care to not trip over any of the presents, once again neatly stacked. When he looked outside, he saw Toby energetically plowing the driveway free of the snow that fell during the previous night. Standing safely away from the loud machine, the two children played in the snow. They were bundled up to their ears against the cold since both refused to stay inside on a day when it was not snowing, which was a rarity lately.

         Walker knew they were safe with Toby watching them, and for the rest of the day he went about his normal daily duties. The troop from town arrived just after 2 p.m., their two large red vans traveling at a snail’s pace just behind the lumbering town plow. As the afternoon progressed and the time for the show grew nearer, the excitement and noise levels grew throughout the mansion. People started entering the ballroom just before sundown with the chairs filling up as friends came together to catch up on the latest news.

         Walker joined Samantha and Jack in chairs placed a short distance from the stage and watched as the last stragglers to enter the room found seats. At exactly 7 p.m., the lights in the large room dimmed, the curtains at the front of the stage parted, and the sound of applause from the audience filled the room. The mansion’s holiday show was about to begin.

Continued in next segment.

HOME OF THE RED FOX - Segment Fourteen  (18+) Chapters 66 thru 70 #1082898 by J. A. Buxton