The novel ‘A Woman between Two Men’, with an Albanian-American Theme, is authored by Carrie Hooper and Skifter Këllici
Max stood up, paced the office, raised his eyebrows, and continued, “Suppose he is thinking about his lover. They are holding hands. He is on his motorcycle, and his hand slides off the handlebars. What if he ends up in a ditch, hits his head, or breaks his leg? If he should die?!”
Dolores listened to his speech, her eyes glued to him.
“God forbid. Not that I care anything about him, but they would discover the drugs hidden in his body and in his jacket. And then … But maybe his troubles have nothing to do with love. You can speculate all you want, but we don’t know for sure what’s going on.”
“As a woman, I think I’ve hit the nail on the head,” said Dolores. She was even angrier with Kreshnik. It appeared he had spurned her advances because he was smitten with another woman. Dolores envied her because she was more beautiful.
To rid her mind of these ominous thoughts, she walked over to Max and kissed him. He kissed her back, this time with passion.
Chapter VI
Kreshnik, wearing a long, black coat, gloves, and a helmet, mounted his black, sporty motorcycle. Max stood next to him. Dolores leaned against the back door of the office building for Max’s furniture store and kept her eyes on Kreshnik. Even though his helmet covered his face, she still found him attractive. It was evening, and the sky seemed to disregard the earth. The starlight made it appear light blue.
“So, Nik,” said Max. “I’ll tell you again what I told you before when I asked you to come to my office. When you get to Long Beach, go to the left side of Bigsby Knoll Park on San Antonio Drive. Have you ever been there before?”
Through the glass of his helmet, Max saw Kreshnik’s eyes light up which meant, “Yes.”
“Don’t forget, there’s a parking lot on the left. Park your motorcycle there. Is that clear?”
Kreshnik’s eyes lit up a second time.
“Then run toward the minivan where the two people I mentioned will be waiting for you and will pay you. Big money, Nik!”
Max clapped Kreshnik on the shoulder.
Kreshnik smiled deliberately.
“Anyway, we will stay in touch the whole time via cell phone. If anything unexpected happens as it did that night when it rained, don’t worry if you can’t burn your motorcycle.”
Max snickered.
“So you know, this motorcycle was stolen just like that car was. I know you don’t consider what my cohorts do work. Therefore, I don’t force you to do it. Have a safe trip.”
Max chuckled again, but Kreshnik was disgusted. “That murderer made me who I am,” he said to himself. “He turned me into a picklock.”
Kreshnik accelerated and sped off. Max and Dolores stood at the back door and followed him with their eyes.
Mary was caring for an injured person who had just arrived at the trauma ward when her phone rang.
“My dear, let me guess. You can hardly wait for your shift to end,” said Charlie. He seemed to be apologizing.
“No,” Mary lied. “Since you called at four, I’ve been so busy I haven’t paid attention to the time.”
“Anyway, don’t be upset that I bothered you at work. But when I called around noon and you didn’t answer, I figured you were thinking about that awful incident with that lowlife, Kreshnik which continues to haunt you.”
Mary bit her upper lip so hard it hurt, but at the same time, she felt relieved. She wouldn’t have to lie about why she hadn’t answered Charlie’s call when she was at the cafe with Kreshnik. He had figured everything out. Still, she didn’t like it that Charlie harbored so much bitterness toward Kreshnik and called him everything from a scoundrel to a lowlife. He calmed her stormy thoughts when he said, “It’s 10:30 now. Shall I pick you up at the hospital at 11:00?”
“Thank you, Charlie, but don’t bother. I’m all right.”
“Very well, Darling. I’ll wait for you at your apartment.” He laughed to emphasize his final words.
“Okay, Charlie. I’ll see you there.” She forced a laugh.
Mary hung up the phone and closed her eyes. The injured person she was caring for had fallen asleep. She left his room and went to the nurses’ station. She was overcome with fright when she realized that just a few hours ago, she had met with a man on whom the narcotics officers could have created a special file. (Wouldn’t the things Kreshnik told Mary suffice for such an undertaking?) Once the police had completed the file, they could have come to the cafe and arrested that drug trafficker right in front of Mary and the other customers. The media would have covered the sensational arrest of the criminal who was talking to the fiancee of a well-known scientist named Charlie Smith.
That would have been awful. Charlie would have discovered that not only had Mary deceived him, but had also had a relationship with a dangerous drug trafficker. He would have broken off their engagement right then and there.
“What were you thinking, Ralph?” Mary sighed. He should have stopped the officers before they had attacked and beat Kreshnik. Then Mary would not have had to meet him and apologize to him. Mary groaned even more when she realized that Ralph was not to blame. After all, it was Mary who had accused Kreshnik.
Once these thoughts had flashed through her mind, she took a deep breath and felt liberated. She would never see Kreshnik again.
Kreshnik raced down the highway on a motorcycle like the competitors who raced in front of thousands of excited spectators. He felt the wind on his arms and knees. He looked at his watch. It was after eleven. He saw cars and motorcycles going in the opposite direction. Were there any other motorcyclists who carried drugs on their bodies or in the lining of their jackets? Were they just as afraid that a squad of officers on motorcycles might appear at a bend in the road, motion for them to stop, and search them?
On the night when a furious rain had fallen from the sky, Max had advised Kreshnik to call him after he had torn the material that covered the inside of the car, and he had done so. He had taken the drugs that were hidden there, had buried them in his bag, and after some unforeseen, anxious moments, which he did not want to think about, he had escaped. But what about now? Would his boss call him and would he manage to escape? But how when the highway was flat and did not have any turns or hills?
Kreshnik entered a residential area. By the faint light of the street lamps, he saw a row of cars and a bus which had stopped. Police officers and other people had gathered around them. Concerned, Kreshnik stopped the motorcycle. He saw that two cars had collided and were blocking the street. He approached the scene and took off his helmet. He heard people talking at once.
“How awful to get into your car and some drunk guy comes like a bat out of hell from the opposite direction, hits you, and kills you instantly!” someone said.
“An officer said he wasn’t drunk. He was on drugs,” said someone near him.
“But what happened to him?” asked the first person.
“He died.”
“What slime is bringing in those cursed drugs?” someone else asked. “Whoever uses them should face the consequences. But what’s wrong with everyone else?”
Kreshnik listened attentively and remained silent.
“It’s the fault of the people who make the drugs and sell them,” someone put in.
People continued to make angry comments, some close to where the accident had happened and some farther away.
“You hit the nail on the head. They should have their heads bashed in!”
“What’s more, the road is blocked, and only the devil knows when we’ll get to Long Beach!”
“I hope the police don’t do something stupid like search all of us for drugs!”
“This would be their chance.”
“If they do that, our bus won’t get to Santa Barbara until tomorrow morning.”
“That won’t happen, my friend. Those officers are highway patrol.”
“What do you mean? It wouldn’t be hard for them to call narcotics. They could come immediately with their dogs. They could find the drug dealers in the blink of an eye. They could be one of us.”
Kreshnik froze but kept his composure. The slightest indication of worry could betray him. He put his helmet back on and turned the motorcycle around. The people continued their conversation and did not see him. He was carefree when he talked to Max Cooper on the phone.
Max and Dolores burned with passion and barely heard the ringing of a cell phone. They did not know at first whose phone it was. Finally, Max realized his phone was ringing. With eyes half-closed, he answered it reluctantly.
“Hello, Boss. There was an accident near neighborhood N,” came Kreshnik’s muffled voice. He explained in detail what had happened. “Should I come back?” Max opened his eyes wide. “Absolutely not!” he said firmly. “Last time, you had to burn your car and hide under a bridge to escape from the police and their dogs. I picked you up, but I can’t do that tonight.”
“Then what should I do?” asked Kreshnik. He screwed up his mouth with irritation.
“Turn around. Don’t let the police see you. They could stop you for a random search. That’ll be the end of us. Drive for a few miles. Wait a minute while I look at the map.”
He got up from the bed, went to a small, nearby table, put down his phone, and took a map out of the drawer. He unfolded it, moved his pointer finger down the page, and stopped. Then he picked up his phone.
“Hello. Listen carefully, Nik,” said Max, gently. “After you turn around and go about six miles, you will see a street that goes to D.”
“Yes, I’ve seen a sign for that.”
“Good. Turn onto that street. It’s a long road, but it will take you to Long Beach. Go immediately!”
“I will. Will I get there on time?”
“Absolutely, but you have to drive faster. Every minute counts. I repeat, be there at three AM. It doesn’t matter if you’re ten minutes early or ten minutes late. Stop to the left of Bigsby Knoll Park. The minivan will be waiting right there. Hurry!”
After he hung up the phone, Max crawled into bed again beside Dolores. She had been listening carefully to his conversation with Kreshnik.
“It’s amazing how much trouble Nik gets himself into!” she chuckled. Then she scolded, “That was not good to give him a motorcycle!”
“I did it for his safety. If he encounters any dangers on the way to Long Beach, it will be easier for him to cover his tracks if he has a motorcycle. It will also make it easier for him to get to the place where the minivan will be. He’ll get in, take off his jacket in which he hid the drugs, put on another jacket, and return to San Diego unscathed.”
“And if something unexpected happens?”
“He’ll leave the motorcycle somewhere, get in the minivan, go to Los Angeles with the others, and come back here the next day.”
Max had barely finished his sentence when he and Dolores, aroused again, started caressing each other passionately.
Charlie sat on the sofa in the living room of Mary’s apartment. He was reading a science magazine when he heard Mary’s key in the lock. He got up and ran to the door. When he saw Mary, he embraced her, took her bag, gathered her in his arms, and, feeling aroused, kissed her on the cheeks and lips.
“Not tonight!” Mary pleaded. (Continues)
Click here for Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part-6, Part-7, Part-8, Part-9, Part-10, Part-11, Part-12, Part-13, Part-14, Part-15, Part-16, Part-17,
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About the Authors
Carrie Hooper was born and raised in Elmira, New York. She has been blind since birth. She received a B.A. in vocal performance from Mansfield University, Mansfield, Pennsylvania. She went on to receive an M.A. in German and an M.A. in vocal performance from the State University of New York at Buffalo. After completing her studies, she spent a year at the Royal University College of Music in Stockholm, Sweden as a Fulbright scholar. Carrie currently lives in Elmira, New York. She taught German, Italian, and Romanian at Elmira College. She has a passion for foreign languages and in addition to the languages mentioned above, she is also proficient in Swedish, Spanish, and Albanian. Music also plays an important role in Carrie’s life. She teaches voice and piano lessons, gives vocal concerts, plays the piano and organ at a church, and sings in a community chorus. Carrie not only loves music and languages, but also enjoys poetry. She has published three books: “Piktura në fjalë” (“Word Paintings”), a bilingual collection of poetry (Albanian-English), “My Life in My Words”, and “Away from Home.” She has also translated texts from Albanian and Romanian to English.
Skifter Këllici was born in Tirana, Albania and received a diploma in history and literature from the University of Tirana. He worked as a journalist, scholar, and sportscaster on radio and television. He is the author of several novels and nonfiction books, including the children’s books, “Memories of the Old Neighborhood” and “In the Footsteps” as well as the historical novels, “Assassination in Paris”, “The Murderer with the White Hands”, and “September Disaster.” He wrote the screenplay for “In the Footsteps” which won a special prize at the International Children’s Film Festival in Giffoni, Italy in 1979. He has lived in Boston, Massachusetts since 1999.
[The book ‘Disastrous September is being reproduced in episodes with the consent of the author]
