Blood Money (chapters thirty three and thirty four.) (standard:Suspense, 3008 words) [17/18] show all parts
Author: Hulsey	Added: Oct 06 2011	Views/Reads: 2070/1585	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Continued.

33 

LONDON 

Pauline watched with disgust when Morris O'Hara picked up the young girl
and kissed her on the cheek, amid a salvo of camera flashes. The 
Irishman gloated over the attention, as he attended the grand opening 
of his impressive superstore in Fulham. The multi-millionaire had 
shrewdly made several cameo appearances on TV shows and hogged the 
limelight, in order to dilute the unwanted publicity that followed the 
robbery. 

That he was photographed shooting at the armed robbers had won him
praise and admiration from the public. Others preferred to believe what 
they read in the newspapers about his possible relationship with 
terrorists. Nevertheless, business in his supermarkets was now stable, 
the vast majority of the shoppers remaining loyal to the reasonably 
priced supermarkets. 

Pauline waited until the ceremony was over and followed O'Hara outside.
He headed for his waiting limousine, some of the journalists still 
snapping away. 

“O'Hara. Morris O'Hara, you murdering scum,” snarled Pauline. 

The unruffled man turned to face the angry woman and retained his smile
for the cameras. He eyed the protestor, and no signs of recognition 
were imminent. 

“You don't even know who I am do you?” 

O'Hara whispered into her ear. “Fuck off, you stupid woman.” 

“Don't you even know who I am?” 

O'Hara was grateful that the photographers were out of earshot. “So
enlighten me. Who are you?” 

“I'm the wife of Sam Chaplin... Oh, so now I do have your undivided and
precious attention do I? We need to talk.” 

“I'm so sorry about your husband's death, and I did send flowers to his
funeral. Now if you'll...” 

“I have evidence that could put you away for a long time, O'Hara.” 

O'Hara hesitated before opening the door of the limousine for the
irritable woman. “We'll talk in private.” 

O'Hara stared hard at Pauline as the limousine pulled away. “Just what
the fuck is this all about?” 

“You're going to pay me one million pounds, O'Hara, and it will be
publicised. You see, you'll tell the media that you now feel remorse 
for Sam taking his own life and have decided to donate one million 
pounds to his widow. You could use the good publicity.” 

O'Hara snipped the tip from a giant Cuban cigar. “Now why would I do
that?” 

“Because, my husband told me that you hired him to stage the robbery, in
order for you to save on paying out the three donations.” 

“That is a lie and you know it.” 

“Yes, it is, but I'm certain I can convince the police to believe me.” 

O'Hara turned and blew smoke into the face of Pauline. “My dear, you
haven't thought this out at all have you? First of all, would I shoot 
at the armed robbers if I had hired them? Secondly, the police know 
that my money was genuinely stolen. God damn it, they've chased this 
gang half way around the world and even recovered some of the money. 
And thirdly, it would be your word against mine... Fergal, stop at the 
corner will you?” 



Click here to read the rest of this story (380 more lines)