The novel ‘A Woman between Two Men’, with an Albanian-American Theme, is authored by Carrie Hooper and Skifter Këllici
Kreshnik was going to turn himself in. This was not the first time he had spoken those dreaded words. She, too, had considered that possibility but had driven the thought out of her mind. Otherwise, what she imagined could become reality in the same way the police could really catch him. In any case, she hadn’t believed it would happen so quickly. She had hoped Kreshnik wouldn’t see her and would escape, but she had not wanted him to go to prison right away.
“And when I turn myself in, I will tell the police about Max Cooper and his kind,” Kreshnik continued.
He didn’t tell Mary about the fight with Pedro Oliveira that could have killed him. At that moment, Mary knew what she had to do.
“I’m coming to see you right now,” she said, swallowing her tears.
“Thank you, Mary,” said Kreshnik after a brief pause. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Mary intended to leave her apartment as soon as she hung up the phone, but her legs grew numb, and she fell, exhausted, into bed. She had not noticed that Charlie had been standing in the hallway the whole time she had been talking to Kreshnik on the phone. That morning, after he had called her and discovered she was still mad at him even after he had told her the Kallagans had invited them to their house the following evening, he had decided to play a game with her. He would sneak into her apartment and pretend she had scared him. After that, he would embrace her, talk to her, and spend the night with her.
Charlie had waited for Mary in front of her building and had seen her go in. After she had entered her apartment, he had slowly opened the door with a key she had given him and he, too, had gone in. Now he stood in the hallway, stunned by the things he had heard. He had learned the terrible truth: Mary, his future wife, was in love with another man.
Who was he? Charlie would soon find out. Quickly but cautiously, he descended the stairs of Mary’s apartment complex, jumped in his car, and stopped at a turn so Mary would not see him.
Meanwhile, Mary, after she had lain in bed for a while, got up. It took a great deal of effort to leave her apartment, and in the process, she forgot to close the door. She went down the stairs and headed for her car.
It was midnight. Because the traffic had lessened, Max sailed through the streets of San Diego, then turned onto the highway. He and Dolores occasionally looked in the mirror.
“Do you think they’ve found us?” she asked.
“It doesn’t look like they have,” he replied.
“How far is it to the Mexican border?”
“Less than an hour. But if we run into any problems, we’ll stop at a friend’s house. He lives in a town near the border. He’ll help us across.”
Little did Max know that at that moment, Ralph Kallagan had ordered officers to raid his offices and search his drawers and shelves.
The police, with the help of two dogs, also searched the company building’s cellar. One of the dogs found a box and scratched it with his claws. An officer followed him and observed his movements. Another officer helped him move the box when the dog scratched a part of the floor covered with boards. After they moved the box, they searched the area with flashlights and found packets of drugs.
Charlie drove slowly to allay any suspicions Mary might have had and kept an eye on her car. At one intersection, he thought he had lost her and could barely control his anger. He gave the engine more gas and panicked when he almost hit another car. Still, Mary’s car was easy to spot in the glow of the street lamps which seemed to form waves as the traffic thinned out.
Soon, Charlie saw Mary stop at a one-story house, go through the courtyard, rush toward the house, open the door, and go inside, without ringing the doorbell or knocking, as if she had entered her home. It was obvious she had been there several times before.
“So this is her lover’s abode,” Charlie muttered, screwing up his face. “But who is this pimp?”
He slowed down and parked near Mary’s car. He waited a couple of minutes so as not to draw attention to himself. Then he got out of his car and headed for the house. He looked around to make sure no one was watching him, then entered the dark courtyard. He walked halfway around the perimeter of the house and looked around a second time to ensure no one had seen him. Then he slowly opened the door so it would not make any noise, went inside, and stepped lightly through the hallway. From a room on the left, he heard someone humming a drinking song. He slowly approached the room, and in the light of the street lamps, he saw a man with gray hair, lying on a sofa near the door. He remembered having seen him at the hospital. But what was his relationship to Mary’s lover? Charlie took a few more steps in the darkness. Through the half open door, he heard the voices of a man and a woman. He recognized Mary’s voice, but who was the man?
“So, you’ve decided to turn yourself in?” Mary asked Kreshnik. She touched his face, enveloped in a fog.
“I told you I would one day,” he replied. “I didn’t have the courage to do it that day at the police station. Now I have no choice since Max Cooper could come after you, too. I could escape to Mexico. After all, we are not far from the border. I could live well in Columbia, Venezuela, Brazil, anywhere. But I would be afraid Interpol would catch me like they’ve caught so many others.”
Mary could not hold back her tears.
“Calm down,” said Kreshnik. “You and Charlie will get married now. You must forget me. I should not have come between you. I should be punished for that, too. If I had not approached you, you would have continued to live in peace with him and would not have suffered the way you have.”
Mary nodded bitterly, then said with much emotion, “It’s true I have suffered terribly, but I don’t regret having met you, Nik. With you, I felt fulfilled and discovered what I haven’t found yet in Charlie.”
“Thank you, Mary. Keep the memories you have of me because, as I said in that poem:
`Memories are the ashes of our burned out life,
And with twisted hearts
We stir them
With the hope we will find a small spark
To warm our cold hearts, if only a little.`”
Kreshnik was silent for a moment. Then, he gripped Mary’s hand and continued, “The only difference is, your heart has no reason to be cold. Charlie Smith is a good man with a promising future. A new love will emerge from the love you felt for me, your love for him.”
Until then, Mary had fixed her gaze on Kreshnik’s tired face. Suddenly, her eyes fell on the upper part of his left shoulder and opened wide in terror. She practically shouted, “How did that blood get on your shirt! Did they hurt you?!”
Only then did she notice Kreshnik’s sad, pale face which he had tried in vain to hide from her.
“Yes. Fortunately, it was just a knife wound,” he said.
He told Mary what had happened while she treated his wound with the medicines she always carried with her. Their relationship had started on a beach when Mary had treated a cut under his eyebrow and now it ended, who knew for how long, with her treating a cut on his shoulder, the result of an attack which could have separated them forever.
“Nik,” Mary said, on the verge of tears. “Are you really going through with this?”
“Nik,” Charlie said to himself, stunned, as he stood behind the door. “Which Nik is her lover? Nik Germeni perhaps? No, that’s not possible. Any Nik but him.”
At that moment, his eyes darkened, and fire shot forth from him. As if in a frenzy, he charged into the room and saw Kreshnik and Mary sitting across from each other. Mary had just finished treating the cut on Kreshnik’s shoulder. The two of them barely suppressed a scream when they saw Charlie.
“Charlie, it’s you,” Mary murmured. She turned her head away from him as if she were ashamed to look him in the eye.
“Stay there. Keep doing what you were doing. I heard everything,” Charlie burst out, wild with fury. “How could you trade my love for that foul-mouthed man’s filthy bed? He’s not only a drunk but a drug trafficker, too. He said so himself. And you were going to be my wife!”
Charlie opened his eyes wide and fixed his gaze on Mary. It seemed as if their fire would burn her to ashes.
“I started to suspect you two were in item when you rushed to that jerk’s defense at the restaurant, but I didn’t want to believe it. I also didn’t like how you practically fell on top of him the other night when you treated his wound. But I finally understood what was going on when I sneaked into your apartment in an attempt to scare you. Then, I wanted to embrace you. But what did I hear? My fiancee had a date with that hermaphrodite. And now, here I am, you scabby whore!”
Mary covered her ears. She did not want to hear Charlie’s angry and bitter words.
“Sir, you have the right to be angry with me and to attack me,” said Kreshnik with a calm that surprised Charlie. “But none of this is Mary’s fault. I am to blame. I went after her. After Ralph Kallagan’s officers beat me with animal savagery right in front of you, it was Mary who came to see me, and she apologized for the incident. It was supposed to be our last meeting, but she, seeing I was in danger of being caught by the police, had one goal: to get me away from drugs and alcohol. If I succeed, I owe it to her.”
In his office, Ralph Kallagan listened to Scott’s report.
“We have informed the guards at all of the border crossings,” he said.
“Mr. Cooper and his lady friend have nowhere to go now,” said Ralph. “I would never have guessed that a furniture store served as a front for Mr. Cooper’s drug trafficking business. How’s Pedro Oliveira feeling?”
“He died an hour ago in the hospital. He gave us the names of other drug traffickers whom we still haven’t caught yet.”
“There are more?” Ralph muttered, as if talking to himself. “How many more are hiding behind bosses like Max Cooper? But I don’t understand why Pedro Oliveira mentioned Kreshnik Germeni. Why did Max Cooper have it in for him?”
“Do we need to question Kreshnik?”
“Let’s wait and see what Cooper has to say.”
Max made a left turn. Since the road was straight, he increased his speed. Under normal circumstances, this would have scared Dolores, but now she wished the car would fly.
“We’re coming to the border,” said Max, without concealing his happiness. “I hope the San Diego police didn’t tell the border guards about our escape.”
“Shouldn’t we go to your friend’s house?” asked Dolores.
Max thought for a moment.
“You’re right,” he said. “Let’s go there for a while. Then we can hide in a place from where he has helped us transport drugs a few times.”
“Thank God for your friend,” said Dolores, raising her eyes.
They had almost reached an intersection when Max opened his eyes wide with fear and stopped suddenly.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dolores, startled by the jolt.
“Don’t you see those cars?!” Max stammered.
The two remained frozen in place. Then Max shouted, “It’s the police!”
“What do we do now?” asked Dolores, terrified.
Max did not respond but quickly turned to the right and drove toward a field. He looked in his mirror and saw a police car following him. He sped up, but the police car was catching up to him.
When Max tried to make a left turn, he saw another police car following him. He did not know what to do. He drove on but failed to notice a ditch. He managed to avoid it but lost control of the car. It zigzagged and rolled down a hill. In the meantime, the first police car caught up to Max. Two officers got out and saw his wrecked car in flames at the bottom of the hill.
Charlie listened to Kreshnik’s story. Sometimes he felt his blood rise and his eyes grow big, but he did not interrupt him.
“Today, Mary came to my house just to say good-bye for the last time,” he continued. “Then she planned to come to your house. She was convinced we had ended our relationship for good and that I would leave the awful drug business.”
With those words, Kreshnik got up and took his cell phone out of his pocket.
Ralph was still in his office with Scott.
“So Max died instantly after his car rolled down the hill,” he said. “But what about Dolores? What happened to her?”
“Amazingly enough, she escaped with minor injuries,” said Scott.
“When we question her, I think she’ll give us the names of other people involved in that drug trafficking ring.”
“Could Kreshnik Germeni be one of them?” asked Scott.
“Who knows? He is a drunk. If Max Cooper were alive, he would tell us why he wanted to kill him.”
“Maybe Dolores will tell us.”
“Maybe.”
At that moment, the office phone rang. Scott lifted the receiver.
“My name is Kreshnik Germeni.”
The voice seemed to come from far away. “May I speak to Officer Ralph Kallagan?”
“What did you say your name was, Kreshnik Germeni?” asked Scott, surprised.
Ralph was shocked when he heard the name.
“Yes, Kreshnik Germeni.”
“What is the reason for your call?” asked Scott.
“I have a very important matter to discuss with Officer Kallagan. May I speak to him, please?”
“Ralph, Kreshnik Germeni would like to speak to you,” said Scott, quietly.
Ralph was even more shocked as he took the receiver.
“Ralph Kallagan speaking.”
“Officer Kallagan, several months ago, you ordered your colleague, Officer Scott Norton, to arrest me and hold me at the station for drunken and disorderly conduct. But that day, you should also have arrested me for drug trafficking, a business I was involved in until recently.”
Ralph’s eyes opened wide.
“You a drug trafficker,” he said.
“Exactly. Do you remember an officer in Los Angeles named Eric Torres who gave a riveting interview for newspapers and television?”
“Yes?”
“Torres, when he was in the hospital, said he fought with a robber who wounded him in the head, pinned him down, and pointed his gun at him. But he didn’t shoot him. Instead, he ran away, almost in tears, and threw his gun away. Do you remember that?”
Ralph gave Scott a confused look. Scott could hear Kreshnik’s report on his phone.
“Yes, I remember that incident,” Ralph replied, stunned.
“Well, I was that robber, and I hid packets of drugs in the lining of my leather jacket. Is this act not punishable under the law which I have broken many times?”
“Yes,” Ralph answered, even more stunned.
“I’m ready to turn myself in,” said Kreshnik, his voice more and more agitated.
“No, we’ll come to you,” said Ralph, shaken. “What’s your address?”
Kreshnik gave Ralph his address. Then, exhausted from telling this long story, he sighed, turned to Charlie, and said, “If you think I will change my mind and try to escape, you may come with me, Sir.”
A foggy tiredness overcame Charlie. Kreshnik left the room. Mary did not know why she followed him to the courtyard. Charlie also came outside. Soon, they heard several police sirens. Ralph Kallagan, Scott, and some other officers had arrived. (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, Part-18, Part-19, Part-20, Part-21, Part-22, Part-23, Part-24, Part-25, Part-26, Part-27, Part-28, Part-29, Part-30, Part-31, Part-32, Part-33, Part-34, Part-35, Part-36, Part-37, Part-38,
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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]
