Benji in Control
by: E Walk
(© 2009-2011 by the Author)
 

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Chapter 53 

The Paparazzi

R. B.’s throwing the young man’s camera was just what the media was looking for and all of the cameras and machines were turned toward us.  R. B. bristled, “Why don’t you people go home?  This is a time of mourning for someone who died.  Who cares who's been here to my Mother’s memorial service?  People are only going to come to make sure they were seen by their adoring public; not because they cared for my Mother.”

Mr. Burris whispered something to R. B. then we went into the chapel and were taken to a room where we met the minister who was going to be doing the service.  After the introductions, he was straightforward, “Since I did not know the person of many names, Ms. Starr, Ms Bradford or Mrs. Lewis, the service is going to be very generic.  Ray, Jr., would you like to say some words to make it at least a little personal?”

R. B. looked at me, “Son, it’s your call.  After all, you are the person who knew your mother the best.”

“Reverend Chastain, I would like to make a few comments, if I may, but could you please make sure that the media is not in attendance at the memorial service?  They’re trying to make this a big thing, like the academy awards, or something.”

Reverend Chastain nodded, “We’ll try to keep them out, but they always seem to find a way of getting into ceremonies like this.  They are like bloodhounds on the scent of a criminal.”

We were led into the chapel by Pastor Chastain and seated in the row in front of the pulpit.  The church was full.  R. B. looked around, “I don’t know who most of these people are.  I’m sure I’ve never met many of them before.  Some of them I recognize from seeing them in movies.  Why did I agree to say something?  What do I say?”

I patted him on the shoulder, “Just say what comes to your mind when you’re standing at the lectern.”

Reverend Chastain gave a very standard message that could have been used for everyone who was waiting in the morgue.  Even our boys were getting bored, and so was I.  Things livened up when Reverend Chastain asked Raymond, Jr. to come say a few words about his Mother.

R. B. went forward and there must have been a stool for him to stand on.  He looked out over the people in attendance, “I thank you for coming to this memorial service for my mother.  My Mother was not an easy person to deal with.  I know that, for a fact.  I also recognize that most of you are not here because you cared for my Mother.  Some of you are worried about the movies that she held over your heads, You can stop worrying, because the films have been turned over to the FBI.”

“While I never had the opportunity to view the films, a friend of mine made an inventory of the films that were turned over to the FBI, and I recognize some of the names of some you who are in attendance.  I can assure you that neither I nor my friend will try to use the list against you.  Our only wish is that the people who were using the films to cause people to do things that they didn’t want to do will wind up behind bars, subsisting on bread and water.”

R. B. took a deep breath, “I want to thank the people at Aegean Films for making arrangements for this service, today.  If I never have to come back to Hollywood again, that will be too soon.”

After R. B.’s talk, the organist played the closing hymn and we were escorted out of the chapel to the awaiting limousines.  A reporter yelled, “Raymond, where can we get in touch with you?”

Benji answered, “He’s going to live with us.”

The reporter was persistent, “Where do you live?”

“We live east of New Orleans in the country.”

When we were in the limo, I asked, “Benji, why did you tell the media people that?”

 

“Daddy, if they didn’t recognize Dad Cole, why tell them where we live or they’ll just bug R. B?  I didn’t lie to them.  We do live east of New Orleans.  I just didn’t say how far east.”

When the limousines started moving toward Mr. Burris' office, some of the reporters started to follow us.  When the limos left us out in front of the building, we quickly made our way to Mr. Burris’ office so there was no way the media people could tell where we were, since they had to park their cars.”

Mr. Burris was very succinct, “Raymond, you’re a very wealthy young man.  Your mother’s parents had left a large nest egg for you, when you reach the age of twenty one.  Your mother was a little more foresighted, She made her considerable money so that it would start to be available to you when you reach the age of eighteen.   The house is free of a mortgage, but I recommend that you might want to unload it as soon as possible.”

R. B. looked at me, “Dad, why don’t we authorize Mr. Burris to sell the house for a reasonable price, while the memory of Mother is fresh on people’s minds.  I know that I never want to live in this big city again.”

Mr. Burris handed us some paperwork. “I assumed that you might want to sell the house.  If you will sign these papers, I’ll see how fast I can sell it.  I get the standard realtors fee for doing so.  Dr. Christiansen, if you will sign for the money that Raymond, Jr. will be receiving, we’ll have it transferred first thing in the morning to whatever account you designate.”

“Mr. Burris, here is R. J.'s investment account number at the First National Bank of Atlanta.  Please mark all transactions to the attention of Mr. Morgan.  He’ll know what to do with the funds.”

When we had completed our business, Mr. Burris called the limo drivers, “Please pull around to the back door.  The paparazzi are camped by the front door.  Our visitors need to get to the airport to make their flights.”

When we arrived at the airport, the guys hugged Cole as we parted ways.  We were going through the security detection system when some of the media finally caught up with us.  One young woman was yelling, “Wait we have some more questions to ask you.”

Benji turned around, “Send us an email and we’ll determine if they’re worth taking our time to answer.  Our flight is being boarded.  We need to go.”

This time the boys were sitting three to a row and I was on the other side of the aisle opposite them so I could watch them.  A gentleman and a lady came and sat down in the row with me.  The gentleman looked at me, “Aren’t you Dr. Christiansen who’s president of Harwood Junior College?”

“I was when I left home.  I think I’m still the president, unless you know something I don’t know.”

The gentleman laughed, “We’re on our way to see you. We’re Gary and Marge Session.   We have the funds to start a junior college in an isolated part of the state, in California.  We were coming to pick your brains on how you were able to advance from small college to where you now are able to support a basketball team.”

“Thanks to my sons, we were lucky to be able to make significant improvements on our campus.  You’ll appreciate the significance of how things evolved when you see the campus as it is being built.  We have had some major donors who contribute significant funds.”

Mikey came and tapped me on the shoulder, “Daddy, I gotta go to the bathroom really bad.”

“Come on, trooper, I’ll help you.”

Mikey was just coming out of the bathroom when the flight attendant came on the public address system, “Please return to your seats and buckle your seatbelts.  We are descending into the Atlanta Hartsfield airport.  We’ll be landing at gate 32.”

I looked at the lady and gentlemen, “If you’re not hung up on staying at some place fancy, then you are more than welcome to bed down at Summerhill.  That way, you can get to know the players and see first hand how things work at Harwood Community College.”

When we landed, I apologized, “I’d gladly take you to Summerhill, but the van is already filled with six passengers and their luggage.”

Mr. Session nodded, “I fully understand.  I have a rental car reserved.  I figured that would allow us to move about the country as we needed, without bothering anyone.”

“We’ll pull around to the rental car station and you can follow us, since Atlanta can be confusing to drive in for the uninitiated.”

When we arrived at Summerhill, it was dinner time.  I had called ahead and warned Patty that we would be arriving in about an hour and a half and that we would have two guests with us, for dinner, and that they were going to be spending the night.

Upon our arrival, the boys’ horses came over to the fence.  Mrs. Session commented, “I didn’t realize there were any appaloosa horse farms in this area.  I grew up on a ranch with appaloosa horses.”

Benji grinned, “We have the biggest spread of appaloosa horses around.  People bring their girl horses here so they can have babies.  If there is still enough sunshine after we finish eating, maybe we can go for a ride if you would like.”

After dinner, Mr. Session declined to go riding with the boys and his wife.  We were sitting on the deck watching the boys and Mrs. Session as they road around the paddock.  Gary pointed to the boys, “They certainly are capable riders.”

I nodded, “My four sons practically grew up riding horses.  Rocky and R. B. are fast learners.  I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead and ask.”

“You didn’t come the whole way to Harwood to see what is happening at Harwood Junior College, did you?”

Gary took a deep breath, “As a matter of fact, we didn’t.  Marge and I work for the FBI and were sent here to provide Raymond and Benji protection.”  He showed me his credentials.

I shook my head, “I can understand R. B. but why Benji?”

“Benji and you were the only persons seen going to the Brewster residence with Ray, Jr.  R. J. said that it was a friend of his who made the inventory.  If he had been referring to you, he would have used a different terminology.”

“Will it bother you and Marge to sleep in the same room?  I assume that you aren’t married or at least to each other.”

“We can sleep in the same room.  We’ve done it before.  You’re right in that we’re not married to each other.  I usually wind up sleeping on the floor.”

“That’s ridiculous; there is another bedroom adjacent to the guest bedroom.  The boys won’t be any the wiser if you keep going in and out of the guest bedroom door.”

“We don’t want to give the boys any idea that we’re not whom we’re pretending to be.  Marge is going to try to waggle an invite to the boys’ school in the morning, to make sure that there aren’t any mysterious guests lurking about.  I’ll go to the college with you to add credence to our story.  We don’t think that anyone would be stupid enough to try anything, but these people are concerned about only one thing - making money.  R. B. and Benji have interrupted their money making scheme and caused them to lose control of a great number of actors and actresses.”

I had gotten the boys settled, or so I thought, and was going through the mail in the bedroom when there was a knock on the door, “Come in.”

Benji came in, still dressed in his clothes, “Daddy, Mr. and Mrs. Session aren’t really who they who they’re pretending to be, are they?

I hugged him, “No, son, they’re FBI agents.  They’re here to protect you and the other guys, especially R. B.”

Benji plopped down on the sofa, “Dad, why do we need to be protected.  We don’t have anything that anyone would want.”

I hugged Benji, “The bad guys don’t know that.  R. B. told them that a friend had made an inventory of the films.  If the FBI picked up on that, and figured it was you who made the inventory, then you can bet the bad guys did, as well.  Mrs. Session is going to want to go to school with you guys in the morning to make sure nothing strange happens.”

“What’s Mr. Session going to be doing?”

“He’s going to the college to protect me.”

“Daddy, when will all of this cops and robbers stuff stop?”

“Benji, I wish I knew the answer to that question.  I’m guessing that it will stop when the bad guys realize we don’t have any information.  You need to get to bed, or you’ll be a grouch in the morning.”

I did something that I wouldn’t ordinarily do.  “I made sure the exterior doors as well as all of the windows on first floor were locked, and the alarm system was activated, so that anyone trying to get into the house uninvited would activate the alarm.  I looked out the bedroom window as I was getting ready to crawl into bed and I saw a sheriff’s cruiser go by.”

I swear, these people were making me paranoid.  As hard as I tried, I could not go to sleep.  I kept hearing strange noises all night long.  I finally gave up trying to go to sleep when it began to get light.  I got up and went down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee and turned on the television.

 The newscaster was saying, “Two FBI agents were found in a closet of the Delta terminal at the Los Angeles International Airport.  The two agents were robbed of their credentials and gagged and their hands and feet were tied.  The imposters are reported to have boarded a flight to Atlanta.  The imposters will be traveling under the names of Gary and Marge Session.”

I heard a noise on the steps, so I turned the television off.  I opened my briefcase and acted as if I was doing work from the college.  Gary came in and asked, “Up a little early, aren’t you, Doug?”

“When I’ve been gone for any time at all, the work doesn’t stop.  Karen, whom you met last night, brought me some work home, since she’s my secretary.  I need to go wake the boys so they’re ready for school on time.  Help yourself to the coffee.  Patty should be here to start breakfast, shortly.”

As I was walking up the steps, I was thinking, ‘What do I do now?’

To be continued...

Editor's Notes:  I had a funny feeling about the Sessions, from the time they showed up on the plane. 

I think it would be a good idea for Dr. Christiansen to try to make a phone call, sometime, once he gets to work, of maybe he should pass a note of some sort to his secretary.  The boys are going to need protection from the imposters. I hope someone can get in touch with the police.

This is getting pretty scary, isn't it?

We will just have to wait for the next exciting chapter to find out more.

Darryl AKA The Radio Rancher 

Posted: 02/04/11