BROKEN (standard:mystery, 1886 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Aug 10 2003	Views/Reads: 4171/2480	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A tale of revenge.

The red-eyed woman tossed the handful of earth onto her husband's grave
before breaking down in tears. The aggrieved widow was consoled and 
escorted to the waiting hearse. James Holland had taken his own life; a 
cruel scam the reason for his abrupt act. 

The fifty two-year-old ex shipyard worker was not a wealthy man.
Twenty-five years, toiling all hours had gone unrewarded, his services 
no longer in demand. James Holland, being a proud man, had walked the 
streets in a vain effort to find employment. Alas, the wheels of 
industry no longer acknowledged loyalty and good old-fashioned 
endeavour, instead opting for youth, who were more endowed with 
computer skills. 

Desperation was his sole companion in his days of woe; the depression
planting itself deep within him. A telephone call one rainy morning 
would change his life forever; the message of optimism, another nail in 
his coffin. 

The scam was simple. Anton Comasky, posing as a stock analyst, called
some five hundred people, claiming to half of them that the share price 
in a certain company would rise before the end of the week. The other 
half were told that the stocks would fall. The satisfied victims were 
then whittled down again using the same method, until Comasky was left 
with some sixty eager prospective investors. 

Being born with the gift of converse, the Londoner soon had the
money-hungry investors under his spell, and they were only too eager to 
invest huge sums of money with him. 

One of the sixty gullible victims who had been taken in by the scam was
James Holland. He unwisely gambled £20,000 of his redundancy money on 
Comasky's advice. Of course, once he had parted with the cash, the wily 
conman had found pastures anew. 

The latest setback had proved too much for the ex-shipyard worker.
According to witnesses, James had stepped in front of the double decker 
bus purposely, ending his life beneath the wheels of the number 37. 

That Comasky had been arrested and convicted of fraud was no
compensation for the mournful widow. Further salt was rubbed into her 
cuts with the outcome of the farcical trial. In all, Comasky had duped 
sixty victims, his vast sum of stolen funds conveniently missing. His 
sentence for operating this cruel scam? Two years suspended sentence 
and a five thousand pounds fine. 

Rachel believed that the deceitful man was responsible for the death of
her husband, as much as if he had actually pushed him beneath the 
wheels of the double decker bus. Rachel Holland was by nature a meek 
and dignified woman, but inwardly, the injustice was gnawing away at 
her heartstrings. 

Anton Comasky sipped his Jack Daniels, his rodent-like eyes scouring the
bar of the Regency Hotel, his mind delving for a new scam. The money 
that he had fraudulently acquired from his latest enterprise would keep 
him living in the luxury of the elegant hotel for quite a time yet, but 
being a refined conman, he was always on the lookout for further 
opportunities. 

He watched with curious interest the approach of the two middle-aged
women. Judging by their attire, they were opulent by nature, an 
attribute that always attracted the weasel-faced man. 

The two women did not acknowledge Comasky and settled down at the
neighbouring table. They ordered Martinis, before they drifted into a 
conversation that held the attention of the man with the slicked back 
black hair. 

The redhead held her head in her hands and sighed, as her small dark
friend placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. The sobbing woman 
looked elegant in her turquoise, satin dress, the lack of jewellery not 
concerning the watching conman. 

“Whatever will I do, Celia? I need the money desperately, but I simply
cannot sell the painting.” The voice was quiet, but held enough 
decibels to be heard by the listening man. 


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