In the last episode of Special Delivery, Rollo Betancourt, advisor to wealthy Frank Weller, arrived at Rocky's office with a stack of hundreds to hire Rocky to find the missing package. The following is a continuation of the April 25th entry in the Rocky Stone notebooks:
“What makes you think I want to find your rotten package?” I fired back at him as I shoved the cash off the desktop and into his lap. “No amount of money is enough to get mixed up in a barrel full of Communists. What kind of fool do you take me for?”
Rollo Betancourt gently flipped through the bundle of hundreds and his face softened into a quiet smirk. His was the type of personality that rarely showed amusement of any kind and I had to wonder what went on in that pointy head of his to make him react like that. I reached down and rested my hand on the revolver hidden underneath my desk, just in case.
“You're no fool,” he said, simply. “The true fool is the man you see before you.”
He got me curious. “I wouldn't say that. After all, you've got some money to throw around.”
“It's not mine,” he returned in a mournful tone, and sat in silence for a few seconds. It seemed like he should leave, since I had given him the brush-off in no uncertain terms, but he kept on sitting and looking sadder and sadder the more he did, until he suddenly noticed me staring at him.
I asked: “What's your story, Rollo? What brings you here?”
He smirked again. “You would have to know the Wellers.”
“I'm getting to know them.”
“I've worked for the family for thirty-six years, Mr. Stone. Frank Junior hired me fresh out of law school. A good man, he was. An honest man. You always knew where you stood with Frank Junior. After ten years he promoted me to his chief counsel. Two years after that, he died. Frank the Third was put in charge of the company. He wasn't a good man or an honest man, but a shrewd one, and likable enough. He made me do some things I wasn't too proud of, but it was still a good job to have and I owed it to Frank Junior to see that his son learned the business well. Then Frank the Third died and left the business to his son.”
He paused to reflect on his present employer and his eyes twitched. I nodded at him. He didn't have to say anything more because I could guess.
“All Frank the Fourth does is spend,” Rollo continued. “He has no sense at all. He married a gold-digging tramp and built her a castle to keep her in. His inheritance has practically wasted away in the matter of a few years.”
“So he's desperate for cash,” I added, and he nodded in agreement. “What's he selling? What's in that package that's so important?”
“As far as I know, Mr. Stone, there is a statue in that crate. That's all I was told.”
“Do you honestly believe that? Why would a man sell a statue to the Communist Chinese?”
“Money.” He waved the stack of bills in the air. “He's practically broke and he's trying to buy his way out. He's the biggest fool of all. And I'm a fool for doing his bidding.”
“So why keep on doing it?”
Rollo's face went pale. He placed the money on the top of my desk and looked at me, earnestly. “For the same reason you'll take this job. That driver you were with. His name is David McLean. He left town this afternoon and checked in to room 6 at the Motel Kaplan in a town on the edge of the desert called Sherman City. If you don't find the package, Frank Weller will see to it that your friend Mr. McLean is as good as dead.”
Can Rocky protect Dave? Will he take the money and find the package for Frank Weller? Find out next week in The Adventures of Rocky Stone!
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