Dead Ringer (standard:drama, 2413 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Apr 24 2004	Views/Reads: 4030/2584	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A woman turns up at a hotel claiming that Howard is her dead husband.

Howard Keeler propped up the bar and ordered another vodka. The usually
moderate drinker welcomed the soothing alcohol; his usual calmness 
having deserted him. He marvelled at the exquisite furnishings of the 
Dorchester Hotel restaurant; his ecstatic mood prompting him to raise 
his glass to unknown diners. 

Keeler had purchased a new Armani suit for this occasion, wishing to
impress his belated business acquaintance. He had spoken to Sheikh 
Aftab Salem briefly on the telephone; the venture he proposed far 
exceeding anything that the middle-aged building developer had dealt 
with before. 

Keeler, having suspected a wind up by his frivolous friends had run a
check on the Internet, accumulating a wealth of information on the 
Sheikh. Not until the over generous advance of two million pounds was 
deposited in his bank account would Keeler accept his good fortune. 

The balding Keeler checked his wristwatch, with one eye on the entrance
to the lavish restaurant. A slim, attractive, redheaded woman wearing a 
low-cut crimson dress had her approach promptly disrupted by the 
doorman. Keeler watched the ensuing argument and pondered whether to 
take his place at the table that the Sheikh had booked earlier. 

The red-faced doorman walked intently towards Keeler and smiled
embarrassingly.  "Excuse me Sir, but the lady in the foyer wishes to 
speak to you. She assures me that it's a matter of urgency.”� 

Keeler stared towards the woman, her appearance not triggering any
immediate hints of acquaintance. He reluctantly strode towards the 
stranger, his curiosity in need of sating. She appeared elegant enough, 
but not someone who you would readily associate with a Sheikh. Her high 
cheekbones and ocean blue eyes portrayed her as a creature of beauty, 
her lips succulent and ruby red. It was only when she spoke that 
Keeler's illusions about her being allied to the Sheikh were shattered. 


"Yer bastard! Did you really think that I wouldn't find you?”� 

The voice was coarse, the words delivered in a Scouse accent. "Excuse
me. I'm afraid you have me mixed up with someone else darling.”� 

"Don't you frigging darling me you shit! You were supposed to meet me at
Frazier's last night remember?”� 

Keeler looked around and reddened, realising they were being watched by
the other diners. 

"Ah Miss Tyler, of course... Listen, it completely slipped my mind as
I've more urgent matters to consider... Now if you please, I'm 
expecting someone important.”� 

"And your wife isn't important?� 

"Listen Miss Tyler, as I stated on the phone, your insistence that I was
once married to you is ludicrous. Either you're a bad confidence 
trickster, or you need medical help, in which case, I strongly advise 
you to see a psychiatrist... Now if you'll please leave me alone I...”� 


"Yer low life! You can't just disregard me as though I was something on
the bottom of your shoe... Either you hear what I have to say inside or 
I'm gonna stand here and scream the place down until you do listen.”� 

Keeler again checked his wristwatch and gazed out into the car park. "Mr
Keeler,” said the doorman. 

"Yes.”� "A message from reception... The Sheikh apologises for his
delay, as his private jet ran into some bad weather. He hopes you won't 
be inconvenienced by his absence and he'll be there as soon as he 
can.”� 

"No problem,” smiled Keeler, in the circumstances glad of the delay.
"Would it be possible for the lady to join me in the bar for a few 
minutes?”    � 



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