Deadline Murder - Chapter One (Part One)

"Please answer." Damon Duquesne gripped his cell phone so hard his knuckles seemed to turn white as he turned his silver Jeep Cherokee into the employees' parking area of Ford Field, Detroit's state-of-the-art football stadium. Parking, he tried the number once more. His stomach grumbled again with nervousness.

"Maria, please be there," he begged out loud. No answer. After three more futile attempts to reach her, he had to face the fact that she wasn't available.

The Lions, for the first time in 50 years, were in the division playoffs against the San Francisco 49ers. Kickoff was only six hours away. A win would send them to the Super Bowl in January. Damon Duquesne alias Double Dynamite, the Lions' star wide receiver, felt nothing like his nickname. The caramel color skin of his face had drained to an ashen gray. Once inside the stadium complex, he made his way to the exercise room. Not only did he need to quiet his usual pre-game jitters, he had to decide what to do about the alarming conversation he had overheard earlier that morning by the directors of one of the largest oil companies in the country.

That Sunday morning, he had stopped by his off-season employer, the Planet Oil Corporation of America (POCA), to deliver coveted tickets to that afternoon's game. It felt good to be able to help out his co-workers in the public relations department with some free tickets to the game. Using his photo-identification card, he had quietly gained access to the empty reception area next to the Board of Director's conference room and heard loud irritated voices. He recognized several of them as key executives of the company.

"How much longer do you think you can fool our investors? We are nowhere near discovering an authentic formula for synthetic oil," said the chairman, irritably. "We can't keep the lid on this much longer."

Then there was the sound of an additional chilly voice, which he immediately recognized as belonging to Raymond Shoemaker the CEO. "Let me worry about our stockholders. Our next quarterly report won't reflect anything negative. And who knows, by next year this time, that formula could become a reality. We want our stock to hit a new high this quarter. I'll do everything in my power to make it happen. Now just relax boys!"

Another voice stated flatly with a laugh. "Oh yeah. How about 15 or 20 points worth? That would make our stock options worth a pretty penny." There was general laughter around the table with some more discussions about the stock market.

Then the voices moved down the hall in Damon's direction. Horrified, yet mesmerized by their conversation, Damon hastily left the building thinking, the very thing that had attracted Wall Street, a synthetic oil formula, was nonexistent.

Driving away from the company parking lot, he called his best friend and all-pro Lions' quarterback Jeff Samuels. Shocked, Jeff suggested Damon call Maria Hamilton, their mutual friend and sportswriter for the Detroit Free Press. The three of them could meet on Monday, their day off, and decide what to do. And also think about if they should advise Damon's girlfriend, Liberty Johnson, of this information. She was a lieutenant detective with the Detroit Police Department, Special Investigations Unit. They were pretty sure that corporate fraud was still a local crime, but then again, she could tell them if it was a federal offense rather than a local crime. They'd just have to wait and see. Now they had a game to win and that's all they could think about.