Albert Foundling & The Worst Things He Had Ever Done.

Part Three

The public house was full of dinner guests. The bartender slid a cold frothy mug to a slender young man with a pale face. There was another man at the back table wearing a bowler hat. He looked hopeful. A jingling of bells signaled the entrance of two other men through the front door. The bartender waved, and the one dressed as a clergyman waved back. His other hand clutched a small attaché case. The young man stood and moved to a closer perch near the back table.
"I am hoping for a clean transaction," the man in the bowler said.
"The money is all here. Every cent," said the clergyman. The man he entered with raised a hand to make him stop talking.
"My client and I are here under the assumption that this will keep the information you have on my client private."
"Upon seeing the money, I will gladly agree and sign whatever you like."
"Here, here. It is all here," said the clergyman. His attorney touched his shoulder to calm him.
They passed the attaché under the table. The man checked it and returned his hands to the table.
"I am ready to sign," he said.
The young man at the bar finished his drink and pulled a thin black book from his bag.
The man signed the contract, and it was over quickly. The clergyman stood, finished the rest of his cocktail, and made his way to the back restroom. The young man at the bar stood and followed him in.
When he entered, the clergyman was relieving himself at a far away toilet.
"Those men are lying to you," the young man said.
"Excuse me? Who are you?" asked the clergyman now approaching him at the sink.
"I am a journalist for the gazette. These men you are with are tricking you."
"Why would I believe you?"
"Because I have proof. They gave this to me."
The slender young man produced the black book from his bag, pulled the band from its cover and handed it to the clergyman. The reverend's face turned white.
"They have everything," he muttered. "Even things I have never dared to share."
"It was the attorney's idea," said the young man.
The clergyman's face shifted to red. With a growl, he tore out the incriminating pages from the small black book and ran back out into the restaurant. The young man picked up the book from the restroom floor and followed him out.
"You lying sons of --" The clergyman punched his attorney in the mouth. The other man stood to defend himself. "You will never get away with this." The table flipped. A small attaché case fell into the aisle. As the whole public house erupted in fists and shouting, the young man grabbed the attaché and quietly exited the public house.
A few blocks away from the bar, the young, slender con man opened the small black book, and on its new front page appeared lines of text. Incidents dating back to 1943. He flipped five or six pages forward. Unsurprisingly, a new line appeared.
November 13th, 1965, Pippen's Public House, Albert Foundling tricked a clergyman out of $20,000.