Body Sharing

By Len Morgan

  Karl Drake, 51% shareholder and CEO of Drake Industries, reclined on the executive couch at his City of London apartment.  The remains of a double malt whiskey sat on a nearby glass coffee table.  He'd raised the glass, taking an appreciative sip; leaving a damp ring on the table as he set the glass down.  It was his last taste of fine malt, and he would savour it in the afterlife.

  Carly, his personal assistant, a tall slender blonde in her late 20's, took the glass and washed it out thoroughly.  Carly was hired when her predecessor was let go.  Surprisingly, his wife Shelly had selected Carly from a shortlist of applicants.  What he didn’t know was, Carly and his wife were lovers.

 

 Shelly was a shrewd, but a self-serving woman.  Her two-year dalliance with Carly, had been long enough for them to hatch a plan to get rid of Karl and take over his companies.  Shelly would drop in from time to time ostensibly to check things were running smoothly, actually, it was to spend quality time with Carly.

   Carly entered the room and gave Karl a shake.  When he didn't stir she checked his pulse and held a hand mirror to his face to check for signs of breathing.  She smiled, replacing his glass with another, wiped his lips with a napkin, dried the old glass and placed it in the cabinet. 

Then, she lifted the phone and pressed redial, "It's done!" she said. 

.-…-. 

   Andy Blackwell was at the end of his tether.  His sins were many his virtues few.  A suspended alcoholic police sergeant with a gambling addiction, he'd driven away all those who loved and cared for him.  Booze and gambling had taken over his life to the exclusion of all else.  Now alone, homeless and penniless, he leaned over London Bridge wondering if his past life would flash before his eyes at the moment of his death.  He drained his cheap bottle of vodka, steeling himself for the jump.

"Here goes nothing!" He said.

"Heh hem, bit theatrical don't you think?"

Andy turned in surprise. "What the..."

"Thinking of jumping?  You'll die from hypothermia long before you hit the water."

"What do you care?  What do you know anyway?" he hurled the empty bottle down into the dark swift river far below.

"Well actually, we are on opposite sides of the same predicament Andy.  You're on the outside looking in, while I'm on the inside looking out..."

"How do you know my name, and who are you anyway?"

"I know a little about you but, what do you care?  Your hell bent on checking out." he paused.  Andy turned to look more closely at his unwanted irritant; a pale lean ethereal figure.

"I was Karl Drake five minutes ago, now I'm simply his shade.  I'm pressed for time, In five more minutes I will fade away forever leaving an injustice unanswered.

"Whadya want from ME!"

"I need to borrow your body for 24 hours, I will pay you £100K..."

"Huh?  If you're a shade, how can you pay me!"

"If I am allowed to share your body I will be able to write a cheque using my own signature."

"How do I know you have the money anyway?"

"Drake Industries, I am/was its CEO, time is short, what have you got to lose, it's a gamble…"

"GO!"  The shade closed rapidly; Andy experienced vertigo and dropped to his knees.

Glad you saw sense Andy.  Are you still here?

'What next.'

We head for my office suite for credit cards cash and a cheque book.

'I don't have a bank account anymore...'

That can soon be remedied.  From now on you're Karl Drake.  So sit back and enjoy the ride.

'What if I need a drink or get the urge to gamble?'

Trust me, you won’t...

The alarm was set at his apartment, which meant Carly was out.  So he entered the code and slipped in, taking care not to touch anything.  There he was, lying on the sofa as if asleep.  He went over to retrieve his wallet.

It's gone, it's not here.  He went to the bedroom, but all he could find was loose change. He changed his clothes and scraped up enough cash for the cab fare to his office. 

 Without a pass, they would have to find another way in.  He dumped Andy's clothes and waited for a cleaner to open the rear doors to fill the rubbish bins.  He sneaked in and took the back stairs to the 12th floor, went to his office, to retrieve a cheque book and a spare pass from his desk drawer. With his spare key he opened the petty cash box, wrote and signed a chit for £100.  He wrote a cheque for £100k payable to Andy Blackwell and placed it in his top pocket. 

That's you sorted Andy.

'That's more scary than Dying.'

Where do you living?

'I'm sleeping on a couch at my sisters until her partner loses his patience, and shows me the door.'

Then we'll go there next.  I know I was murdered, probably by my personal assistance I know she took my wallet, credit cards & security pass. So, we'll have to wait for the banks to open until we can get more cash.   

  As he walked up the garden path, two figures detached themselves from the shadows.

'O-oh!  It's Harry my bookie.'

"Ah Andy my friend, we were hoping to meet up with you.  A small matter of an outstanding debt," the smaller guy removed a book from his pocket, took a pencil from behind his ear and thumbed through the pages...  "That will be £10,172 plus interest, let's call it eleven big ones. 

"No problem, I'll write you a cheque."

"Cash only!"

"Then you'll have to wait till tomorrow, I'll bring it round to your gaff first thing Harry."

"Knuckles has been looking forward to this.  Knuckles do your stuff."  Harry smiled.  "I value your custom so this will hurt me more than it hurts you..."

.-…-.

  He crawled to the front door, unable to stand, he banged with his fists.

Sister Irene opened the door.  "I see your pal Harry caught up with you then.  Come in and let me clean you up.  No broken bones I take it; Knuckles is always very considerate like that, if you can't work you can't pay."

"Thanks' Sis, I've learned my lesson I'll pay him off tomorrow and pay you your back rent, from then on I'm a reformed character."

"Yea right!  Simon wants you out by the end of the week so you've got 48 hours."

"I'm working on it Sis."

"Good!"

Early next morning, they visited the bank, and Karl opened three bank accounts, and transferred funds to each, making Andy signatory for each.

Now you have three bank accounts, pay in your cheque from Drake Industries and draw out £12K, we're going round to Harry's gaff.

"Harry, I just popped in to settle up my account."

"Knuckles will be disappointed.  For some unknown reason he has a very low opinion of you."  He counted the stack of £50 notes twice.  "Where did you steal this...  No, it's better that I don't know. Okay you’re clear.  For the next month you are persona-non-grata, piss-off!"

"Thanks Harry, see you around."

"Sadly true."

Now for your sister Irene.  How much do we owe her?

'About £320...’

Let's make that £500 no £750 for her trouble that will endear her incase you need a bolt hole in the future.

'Okay.'

Why so glum?  You still have more money than you could wish for in your wildest dreams.

'Yea but, Sis has this low opinion of me, she expects nothing of me, I'd hate to confuse her when I know I am the rat she thinks I am.'

People change.

'Where to next?'

Solicitors.  I put a stop on my personal account at the bank, now I'll need to make a new Will. Problem is it needs to be backdated a month.

‘No problem I know a dodgy brief that will do it in return for a sweetener. There are some advantages to being “in the job”.’ 

It makes me feel better knowing my low opinion of the police is justified.

.-…-.

Four hours later the deed was done.

'So who did you make your beneficiary?'

Don’t worry it's not you.  I wouldn't put that on your shoulders.

'I might have liked being a billionaire.  But how come I don't remember anything about that?'

I can block you out if necessary; you could do it too if you put your mind to it. Trust me, you wouldn't want my responsibility.  There are thousands of people with jobs relying on the decisions I make/used to make, you couldn't take the pressure.  You'd wind up on that bridge again, but I wouldn't be there to bring you back.  I've cut my wife out completely. The stewardship of my companies will be in the hands of the board of directors and my shares go to an employee's cooperative. So all we’ve got to do now is prove I was murdered, by my wife and her lover, and then you'll be free to spend your money anywhichway...

.-…-. 

‘Mmm,  We need to find a working phone box.’

Don’t you have a mobile?

‘My police issue phone was confiscated when I was suspended.’

Okay, we’ll visit ‘Phones are Us’ and pick one up. What next?

‘Constable Crossly (my partner) is on the fast track. He’s a bloody good detective; I’ll get him to check it out.’

“Hi Simon, It’s Andy.  Listen, I’ve overheard two women discussing a murder, it may be nothing but if I wasn’t on garden leave I’d definitely check it out.  Would you look into it as a favour to me?  It could be a feather in your cap.

Good lad!  The address is 17, Hoburn Close. 

Yes, I’d say check it as a matter of urgency, it sounds as if they poisoned this guy Drake. 

No, I’m not drunk & it isn’t a windup.  Do it man!  W
hat have you got to lose?”

‘He’s a good lad, he’ll do the necessary.’

Let’s hope he does, you seem more cheerful now Andy.

‘Well, I know I’m dreaming!  So, I may as well enjoy it. I can be miserable after I hit the water…’

 

Copyright Len Morgan