by Bill H Myers
“Hearing sirens in the distance, the kid ran. Leaving me in the parking lot to die. He and I both thought I was a goner.
“But I wasn't. Backup arrived a few minutes later and I was still breathing. They took me to the hospital and I was rushed into surgery where they were able to remove two of the bullets. The third one, the one nearest my heart, had shattered my sternum. They would have to get it out later.
“The doctor said I died twice during surgery. Both times they were able to revive me. I don't remember dying. I'd lost a lot of blood and was out of it.
“I spent the next six weeks in the hospital, undergoing six more operations to try to remove bullet fragments near my heart. They got most of them but not all. I still have a few inside me.
“After the doctors were sure I would survive, they kept me another two months before they sent me home. The first month was mostly in a wheelchair. The second was physical therapy.”
Raif took another pull from now nearly empty beer. “I didn't get the full report on the shooting until they released me.
“The surveillance video showed the kid walking into the store with the gun, a Glock 17. He pointed it a pregnant woman who was checking out and shot her point-blank. She was dead before she hit the floor.
“He turned the gun toward the register and demanded young Noah give him the money.
“He didn't hesitate. He grabbed a paper bag and filled it with cash. When he put it on the counter, the punk shot him dead.
“Hearing the shots from the back of the store, Mr. Sanders ran to the front. He barely had time to see the pregnant woman dead on the floor when he, too, was shot. He died twenty minutes later.
“Three bullets, three dead. The Glock 17 still had fourteen rounds in the clip. Those were the ones he fired at me. The ones that almost took my life like the lives he'd taken in the store.
“Internal Affairs did a full investigation and said that when I saw the kid raise his hands still holding his gun, I should have shot him. But I didn't. I hesitated because he was just a kid. At least that's what I thought.
“When they eventually caught him, they learned he'd been responsible for a string of robberies up and down Florida's east coast. He'd left nine bodies in his wake.
“He was twenty-six and had a rap sheet a mile long. But he'd never been sent to jail. Because he looked like an innocent kid, he was always given a break. Suspended sentences and probation.
“The nine people he killed might still be alive if someone had done to him what I did to that kid today. Maybe if someone had made him pay for his bad deeds, he would have gotten the message. Or at least sent to prison where he couldn't hurt innocent people.”
Raif pulled another beer from the twelve-pack, popped the top and took a long drink. Then he looked at me and said, “That kid today? He came in with a loaded gun. He pointed at all three of us. He said he'd kill us if we tried to stop him.
“He wasn't wearing a mask, nothing to hide his face. He didn't care if we could identify him or not. He knew if we were dead when he left the store, we wouldn't be telling the police what he looked like.
“There were two things he didn't count on. One was me. I wasn't going to let some punk kid kill me just because I happened to be buying beer in the store he was going to rob.
“The other thing was the security cameras. They record everything in the store and out in the parking lot. If the kid had left us dead, the police could have watched the videos and would know what had happened.”
Raif put his beer down. “No more beer for me. Need to be sharp when they come back here to question us.”
I nodded and put my nearly full beer on the ground next to his.
Chapter Eighteen
We were still sitting on the concrete bench behind the store when a middle-aged man wearing black pants, a white shirt and thin black tie walked around to where we were sitting. He nodded at Raif and called him by name. “Raif, you doing okay?”
“Yeah, not bad. Considering.”
The detective looked at me. “I don't think we've had the pleasure. I'm detective Martin Beck with the Saint Augustine PD. You have an ID?”
I nodded and pulled my driver's license from my wallet and handed it to him. He looked at it closely, spoke my name into his lapel microphone, and then handed it back to me.
Turning to Raif, he said, “You know how this works. I'm going to talk to your friend here, get his side of the story, then come back and talk to you. If you don't mind, lay off the beer until this is over.”
The detective turned to me and said, “Follow me.”
He didn't wait to see if I was going to. He just took off toward the store's parking lot. I followed, with a pretty good idea of what was coming next.
When we rounded the corner of the Pump & Munch, out of earshot of Raif, the detective pulled out a voice recorder and said, “Tell me what happened. From the time you entered the store until the police arrived. Don't leave anything out.”
I didn't see any reason not to tell him the truth. I started with the kid coming in and firing a round into the ceiling, and ending with Raif and me sitting on the bench under the gumbo limbo behind the store.
When I was done, the detective nodded and said, “I have two questions.
“First, at any time were you in fear of your life?”
I answered immediately. “Yes, as soon as the kid fired the gun. He threatened to kill us all and it looked like he meant it. I wasn't sure we were going to get out of there alive.”
The detective nodded. “Good answer. Now for the second question. Do you think that Raif used unnecessary force dealing with the gunman?”
I almost laughed. “So the guy comes in with a gun, threatens to kill us and somehow Raif, who is unarmed, is able to disarm the robber without any of us getting hurt. I think he deserves a medal. And no, I don't think he used excessive force.”
That was the end of the questions. The detective thanked me for my time and we walked back to where Raif was sitting. He pointed at him. “Your turn.”
They were gone for about twenty minutes. When they returned, neither was smiling. The detective gave me his card and said, “Call me if you remember anything else.”
He didn't wait for a reply. He walked away.
When he was out of sight, I turned to Raif. “Are you in trouble? For how you handled the kid?”
He shook his head. “No, no trouble. At least not yet. They'll compare our stories with the security video and if everything checks out, there won't be a problem.”
I was still sitting when he said, “I need to go back and check on Eddie. You coming?”
I stood and we walked back to Shady Haven. Neither of us said anything along the way, but when we got to my RV, Raif asked, “You hungry?”
It was about two in the afternoon; we'd missed lunch.
“Yeah, I could eat.”
He nodded. “Good. Meet me at my place in thirty minutes. We'll take my car and go get some food.”
He walked away, leaving me to think about what kind of day it had been so far. I'd driven a hundred miles, paid for a month's rent, met Raif, and survived an armed robbery. All that, and still no closer to finding Waldo.
When I stepped into the RV, Bob wasn't at the door waiting for me. I figured he was in the back, sleeping under the pillow fort I had built him before leaving that morning. When I went to check, all I could see was one paw sticking out under the pillows.
I said, “Bob, you okay?”
Hearing my voice, he crawled out from under the pillows. With blinky eyes, he said, “Murrph?”
He was either asking where I'd been or if it was feeding time. If I'd been a betting man, I'd put my money on the feeding time question.
I checked his food and water bowls, topped them both off, and headed to the couch. I was still wearing the same clothes I'd been in since leaving for Saint Augustine a day earlier. My plan was to rest for a few minutes, then shower and change, and be at Raif's door thirty minutes later.
It didn't work out that way.
Chapter Nineteen
Twenty-eight minutes after sitting down on the couch, I snorted myself awake. I'd fallen asleep and never gotten around to showering or changing clothes as planned. I guess it didn't matter. Raif probably wouldn't care.
I locked up the RV and walked past Waldo's place on the way to Raif's. No car in the driveway, no lights on in the trailer. It looked like Waldo hadn't made it back. Or maybe he had moved like Raif had told Mad Dog's collectors. It was one of the questions I needed answers to.
When I got to Raif's, he was sitting outside in one of the two wicker chairs on his deck, smoking a joint. He smiled, waved me over and asked, “You ready to eat?”
I nodded.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a set of car keys and tossed them to me. “You're driving.”
I was glad to get the keys. I didn't know how much or how long he'd been smoking, but I didn't trust him behind the wheel. Even though I was tired and didn't know my way around town, I was pretty sure it would be safer with me driving.
He finished off his doobie, dropped the remaining roach into the bucket of sand at his feet, and smiled. “Don't worry, it's legal. I've got a medical marijuana card. I buy it legally at the dispensary.”
He pointed to the scar he'd shown me earlier. “My medical retirement along with the three bullet holes was all I needed to get the card.
“I wasn't sure whether it'd help or not, but I was in pain and didn't want to get hooked on oxy. So I gave the green leaf a try. And by God, it actually helps ease the pain. Kind of mellows me out too. Sometimes I need that. Especially on days like today.”
He stood and said, “Let's go. Car is on the other side.
He led the way to a late model Ford Taurus, white with dark-tinted windows. No badges or decals telling what the car was. No wheel covers, just steel rims painted white. It would have passed for a taxi if it had been painted yellow.
I unlocked the doors and we climbed in. Me on the driver's side and Raif on the passenger. The interior was stark. No leather seats, no fancy radio, no climate control. But it was clean, didn't smell bad and it would definitely be better than walking.
It started easily with a pleasant burble from the dual rear exhausts. I let it warm up for a minute then put it in reverse and we headed out.
When we reached the street leaving Shady Haven, Raif said, “Turn right.”
Over the course of the next several minutes, he told me which lane to be in and where to turn until we reached our final destination. It was an older strip mall with a Wendy's burger joint out front. An auto parts store, a thrift shop, a sports bar named “Wish You Were Beer”, and a self-service laundromat filled out the remaining store fronts.
Since it looked like the sports bar and Wendy's were the only two places that served food, I headed toward the bar. As I was lining up a parking spot, Raif said, “See the auto parts store? Head over there.”
I did as he said, and when we got closer, he pointed to a brightly colored truck on the edge of the lot. “That's where we're going. Tina's Taco Palace.”
I smiled. Maybe Raif had taken me to the place Waldo had bought. He'd told his mom he planned to buy a taco truck and maybe the Taco Palace was the place.
I pulled into one of the few empty parking spaces near the truck and turned off the car. I reached for the door, but Raif stopped me. “Before you go up there and start asking about Waldo, let's get our food and eat at one of the tables.
“When we're finished, you can talk to the girl working there. But not before we eat.”
We got out of the car and as we walked toward the truck, the smell of tacos filled the air. There were two people in line in front of us, giving me time to read the menu. The food choices seemed to be limited to tacos and burritos. Your choice, beef or chicken.
Three soft tacos for five dollars. A dollar more if you wanted a soft drink. Raif knew what he wanted and ordered first. Three beef tacos with Verde sauce and a bottle of Jarritos mango soda. He pointed at me and said, “He's paying.”
I stepped up to the counter and was surprised to see the person taking orders was not Waldo. It was a woman, about my age, five foot eight, medium build with dark red hair in a shag cut ending just below her ears. She was wearing an apron smeared with taco fixings and when she asked what I was having, she spoke with an unmistakable Irish accent.
Instead of ordering, I said, “You must be Tina.”
She shook her head. “No, I'm not. There isn’t a Tina.”
Without smiling, she said, “There are people waiting behind you. Either order or get out of line.”
I ordered.
“Give me the same thing as Raif.”
She looked up from her order pad and said, “You sure you want the green sauce? You might be better off with the red.”
I liked hearing her voice so I asked her to explain. She shook her head in disgust. “Either red or green. Red is mild, green is hot. Not for beginners.”
I went with the red, paid for both mine and Raif's tacos, and headed to the picnic table where he was sitting. He saw me looking over my shoulder at the woman and said, “She's a real looker. And single too. Might be someone you'd want to get to know.”
I wasn't so sure. She looked nice and had an interesting voice but didn't seem to be much of a people person. She was bothered that I had taken too much time to order. Maybe she was having a bad day. Or maybe she was one of those people who were never happy.
Maybe I'd find out when I asked her about Waldo
After we finished our food, Raif told me the woman's name was Erin and I should stay at the table while he had a word with her. He said it would be better if he spoke to her about Waldo before I did.
He got back in line and when it was his turn, he said something that made her smile; then he pointed back at me. I was surprised when she waved, so much so that, without thinking, I waved back. She watched me as Raif talked to her, and when he turned to leave, she smiled at me again. Maybe he had smoothed things over and she'd be willing to tell me where to find Waldo.
When Raif returned to the table, he said, “It's all set. You'll be taking her to dinner tonight. She wants you to pick her up here at eight this evening. You can use my car.
Take her wherever she wants to go and be nice. And Walker, take a shower and put on some clean clothes before you pick her up.”
It was getting close to five and the dinner rush was on. The line for tacos was seven deep and building. I watched as Erin worked, hoping she'd look up and smile in my direction again. She didn't. She was too busy filling orders.
Raif stood and said, “Time to go. Other people need these tables and we're done. We're leaving.”
He didn't wait for my reply. He walked away and I followed, thinking about Erin, wondering why she so readily agreed to meet with me later that evening.
I would soon find out.
Chapter Twenty
When we got back to Raif's place, he told me to keep the car keys. He said I could use it as long as I needed to, but I had to bring it back with a full tank of gas. That was something I could do.
Before we stepped out of his car, he popped the glove compartment and pulled out a semi-automatic pistol in a black holster. He shoved it in his pants and said, “I don't think you'll be needing this.”
The pistol was the second time that day I'd seen Raif with a gun. I wondered how many more he had stashed away. As an ex-cop, he probably had several. Maybe even a few long guns too.
After getting out of the car, he headed up the steps to his trailer. His parting words were, “Take a shower, wear clean clothes and don't be late.”
I smiled and said, “Sure thing, Dad.”
He laughed as I walked back to my RV.
Bob was waiting for me at the door. He had a toy mouse pinned to the floor. He preferred real mice and especially live lizards, but when they weren't available, toy mice with gray fur were acceptable substitutes.
He flipp
ed the mouse high in the air and caught it before it hit the floor. He chirped out something that probably meant, “See what I can do?” Then he batted the faux mouse down the hallway and into the bedroom.
It was clear he was in good spirits. So was I.
My dinner date with Erin was at eight. Three hours away. In that time, I planned to shower, shave and put on the least wrinkled clean shirt I could find. I didn't have many choices; most of my wardrobe had been lost in the fire when the RV had been hit.
With three hours to kill, I decided to take a few minutes and tidy up the inside of the motorhome. Nothing major, just a quick walk through picking up clothes off the floor, sweeping the litter that Bob tracked when he left his box and wiping down the counters.
I wasn't planning on having visitors, but you never know.
After getting the place presentable, I took a long shower, washed my hair, and shaved. I didn't want to add more wrinkles to the clothes I had planned to wear that evening, so I spent the next two hours walking around in my underwear.
When it got close to the time to leave, I got dressed, checked myself in the mirror, and told Bob I'd be back later. He rubbed up against my ankle, letting me know he expected me to come home at a decent hour.
After locking up the RV, I walked over to Raif's to pick up his car. He was out on his deck, smoking another joint. When he saw me, he waved and said, “You remember how to get there?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. Let me see your phone.”
I handed it to him and he punched in a number. A few seconds later, his phone rang. He ended the call, handed my phone back and said, “If anything comes up, give me a call.”
It took me about ten minutes longer than I expected to get to the Taco Palace. I missed a turn on the way and ended up going over the bridge to Anastasia Island. Had I kept going south, my next stop would have been Daytona.
Fortunately, I was able to turn around and get back on track. I breathed a sigh of relief when I pulled into the Taco Palace five minutes early. Erin was still inside the truck, but it looked like she was closing for the night.
