The Fall Guy

by Simon Wood

  He looked at his fist and the seat. His blow hadn’t left a dent. This was a Lexus, a luxury car, providing quality and a refined ride for all its occupants. He felt that in the driver’s seat, but not the rear. He examined the seat up close with the flashlight. The seams were machined stitched, but the stitching differed to the rest used in the vehicle.

  “Gotcha,” Todd said.

  With the box cutter, he slit the seams. A cloud of white puffed up through the incision. The powder dusted the black leather. He wiped up the powder on his fingertips and tasted it. The powder tasted bitter with a medicinal kick. Moments later his tongue went numb where the powder had touched. He didn’t recognize the taste but he knew what it was—cocaine. He smiled. It was fitting. He had to hand it to the small man. He knew how to twist the blade.

  Todd spent the next twenty minutes carefully cutting open the backseat’s leather to reveal six bricks of white powder, each weighing around a couple of pounds each. If this coke was supposed to hang him, the small man had just screwed up tying the noose. He’d just made Todd rich. That euphoria passed the moment it arrived. He’d dug himself a big enough hole hitting that Porsche. What kind of a shitstorm would he conjure up if he tried to push the small man’s dope? He tossed the packets on the roadside, got in the car and left two long tire marks getting the hell away from that accident waiting to happen.

  He got a hundred yards. He left an equally impressive pair of tire marks stopping the Lexus. He couldn’t leave all that coke on the highway. Like the gun, it was useful. Not to sell of course, but useful in other ways. That amount could be a valuable bargaining chip. He backed the Lexus up and stored the cocaine in the trunk with all the landscaping equipment.

  He’d been on the road twenty minutes when the phone rang. He’d forgotten that he’d left it on. He answered it.

  “There you are,” said the small man. Todd almost choked on the sarcasm. “I would have thought you’d have dropped the car off by now. I was frightened you’d fallen off the radar.”

  “Yeah, well, I ran into a couple of problems.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Nothing to tell seeing as you were the cause.”

  The small man laughed. “So you found my gifts.”

  “Some quite expensive.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, none of them were to my taste, so I gave them away.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that. I would have taken them back.”

  “Too late now. They’re all gone. No one will ever find them.”

  “I’ve misjudged you. You have an aptitude for this work. You’ve proven to be much smarter than I expected.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Todd powered down the window and tossed the phone into the night. “And I’m getting smarter all the time.”

  PART TWO: DETOUR

  Todd’s aching muscles woke him. Every one of them expressed their annoyance at their mistreatment and now exacted their revenge. He groaned when he rolled out of his motel bed. He’d checked himself in when he realized he didn’t have to run anymore.

  He schlepped over to the bathroom and stood under a shower for far too long. While the hot water picked away at his knotted muscles, he thought about the small man. This distracted him from the pain in his overworked body. He recalled the small man’s final words before he tossed the cell phone out of the Lexus’ window.

  “You have an aptitude for this work.”

  Todd found it hard to disagree with this. Less than a week ago, he was working a dead end job, going nowhere with his boring and annoying life, but now, who knew? His life was a blank sheet. He could do anything. He could relocate. Start afresh. Reinvent himself. He still had to get a few things out of the way first, namely the coke, the car and the gun. The gun was easy. There were plenty of storm drains. He fancied trading the Lexus in. That would rectify his pitiful money situation for the moment. The coke. That was the tricky one. He’d vacillated over that one all during the drive and through the night. He could flush that shit down the drain or go into business for himself. One was a smart idea and the other was the worst known to man. There was an even more appealing idea. Use the coke to stick it to the small man. Yeah, he liked that. But that didn’t have to happen over night. Revenge took time. He needed to get the measure of his opposition. At this point, he didn’t know jack about the small man and that was like taking a ripe banana to a gunfight. No, the coke wouldn’t get dumped down a drain or sucked up a nose. It would rest awhile.

  He’d holed up in a place called Grassmore, a small town thirty minutes east of the New Mexico/Texas border. He checked out of the motel and drove into town where he breakfasted at a down-on-its-luck diner that served pretty decent food. He bought a cheap backpack at a drugstore and deposited the six packets of cocaine inside it. The pack weighed more than its twelve-pound plus cargo when he walked into the bus station with it slung over his shoulder. He expected everyone to instantly know what he was carrying on him. He nodded to the cop standing sentry at the main entrance to the station. The cop gave him scant regard. Todd found the lockers and stuffed the backpack in one. The locker slammed shut with a satisfying bang. He pocketed the locker key and slipped out of the station’s side door.

  That out of the way, it was time to say goodbye to his faithful steed, the Lexus. He tore a page out of the yellow pages listing dealerships and drove out to them. They all looked to be respectable. A respectable dealer wouldn’t touch the car, especially with a shredded rear seat.

  He needed a non-respectable dealer, but where would he find one? On the rough side of town? He wouldn’t know the rough side of town if it bit him on the ass. He picked up a local newspaper and flicked through the pages. The news loved to dish the dirt and he found it. The Texan, a bar on the outskirts of town, had been busted again after two roughnecks took a bar fight to the next level. The winner of the battle was facing a manslaughter charge. The newspaper alluded to drug dealing and other crimes too heinous to mention. It sounded like the perfect place to move a hot car, as long as no one broke a pool cue over his head.

  The Texan didn’t reach simmer until eight o’clock that night, when a motley crew filed in to drown their sorrows. Todd struck up a couple of dead end conversations at the bar at the cost of a couple of drinks. His stranger status closed verbal doors.

  His latest shunning drew the attention of the bartender. He’d been watching her bartending prowess all night. She worked the bar with effortless efficiency and kept the clientele in check. Todd developed a large measure of respect for her, but this respect wasn’t mutual judging by the glare she shot him. They made eye contact and she wandered over to him.

  Todd cast an appreciating glance over her. He guessed she was in her late-forties and she was clinging on to her good looks and figure by a thread. She’d thickened in the waist and her sun-damaged skin could never be repaired, but she worked her remaining assets. Her bust was still to die for. She sported a number of tattoos on her wrists, biceps and shoulder blades and they looked to have adorned her skin long before tattoos proved to be en vogue with the pretty young things. Todd found her personality her most attractive trait. She exuded strength and self-assurance. She must have been a dynamite package in her day.

  “Looking for a friend?” she asked in a tone that offered little friendliness.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’ve bought just about every idiot in here a drink.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “It can be, if you’re buying those drinks for the wrong reasons.”

  “I’m just after a little help.”

  Some guy well on his way to drunkdom although the clock had yet to chime ten yelled out from three stools down, “Ginger, leave lover boy alone. I need a beer.”

  “And you can wait for it,” Ginger barked back without taking her eyes off Todd.

  The drunk looked wounded and sat back down. His drinking buddy patted him on the shoulder to console him.

  “So why
don’t you tell me what you need?”

  “I want to sell my car. I’m not local, I’m passing through and I wanted the name of a dealer who wouldn’t stiff me. Know anyone?” Todd threw in a smile to sweeten the deal.

  He failed to melt Ginger’s heart.

  “If you’re passing through, aren’t you going to need that car?”

  No pulling the wool over Ginger’s eyes, but Todd had it covered. He’d spent the day coming up with cover stories. “The thing is costing me too much money. I’m working on a budget these days.”

  “Is that right?”

  Todd nodded and tried the smile again with no success.

  “I’m sure any dealer in town can help you out.” She paused for effect. “Unless there’s a reason why you can’t go to any dealer.”

  Todd noticed how green her eyes were. Amber flecks acted as contrast to bring the green out even more. She noticed him looking at her eyes and not her “go to” tits. That seemed to smooth the edges a bit.

  “You’re right, I can’t go to just anyone. I’m ducking a bad relationship and the loan company still has dibs on the car. You know how those bastards can be when you’re down on your luck. I’m looking for someone that’s not too fussy about paperwork.” Todd paused for dramatic effect this time, hoping for a little sympathy. “Can you hook me up?”

  Ginger scrutinized him with a piercing stare that cut through bullshit at fifty paces.

  “You know what I think?” she said.

  “No. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re a cop.”

  If only she knew the truth. Todd shook his head in protest, but she ignored this and plowed on.

  “This place has a bad reputation and you sons of bitches want to find any excuse to shut me down, regardless whether you have to invent one or not.”

  “Look, honestly, I’m not a cop.”

  “I don’t care. You’re not welcome. Get out.”

  Todd pleaded his innocence again until Ginger reached under the bar for a small Billy club. This was coupled with a significant number of supportive patrons rising from their seats. He raised his hands in surrender and backed away towards the exit. He made it unmolested and broke into a jog when he felt the hot night air close its arms around him. Even though no one followed him out, he didn’t slow up until he reached the Lexus. He got behind the wheel and gunned the engine.

  Before he could leave a trail of dirt, a young Hispanic guy blocked his path. Unlike Ginger and many of her compadres, this guy possessed the build of a twelve-inch ruler viewed edge on. If he wanted to tussle, Todd fancied his chances.

  Seeing Todd hesitate, the kid raced to the passenger side and jumped into the seat next to him. “I heard what you said.”

  “Which was what?” Todd asked.

  “You want someone to take this car.”

  Todd mulled over Ginger’s assumption. The cops were looking to shut the Texan down and didn’t care how they did it. Entrapment seemed like a minor twisting of the law and this kid could be a cop. Ginger may have sized him up all wrong, but he had the measure of this kid. He wasn’t a cop on his first undercover job. He could trust him.

  “You know someone?”

  “Yeah. Is it worth something to you?”

  “Of course. Who?”

  “Larry Vandrel. He’ll take care of you.”

  The kid rattled off directions, which seemed simple enough to follow to Todd. He thanked the kid and pressed a twenty into the kid’s hand when he shook it. It wasn’t much of a thank you, but it satisfied the kid and he returned to the Texan’s loving embrace.

  The kid’s directions took Todd out of town and past the residential areas into the desert. Vandrel had to be the real deal. The warehouse he worked out of, formerly an aircraft hangar at a disused landing strip, possessed no sign—just a security light spraying a cone of light in the darkness.

  Todd pulled up next to a grime-encrusted tow truck and went up to the hangar doors. He thought he heard voices, but realized it was a radio playing. He leaned on one of the doors and slid it back. A good ole boy sporting bib overalls and a shotgun appeared from behind a car lift.

  “Can I help you, son?”

  Neither the gun nor the good ole boy’s placid tone bothered Todd. He was beginning to take this kind of treatment in stride. “I’m looking for Larry Vandrel.”

  “You’ve found him.”

  “They tell me you take trade-ins.”

  This explanation failed to prompt Vandrel to lower his shotgun. He did take a number of measured steps to take him within range of Todd. If he set off the shotgun, it would punch a hole the size of a melon in Todd’s chest. “And who exactly is they?”

  “Some Hispanic kid at the Texan.”

  “This Mex got a name?”

  “I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.”

  “I don’t like unannounced arrivals. You should have made an appointment.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t get your phone number.”

  Vandrel dropped the shotgun’s muzzle to his side. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He brushed by Todd and looked over the Lexus. The security light failed to bring out the Lexus’ best and he instructed Todd to bring the sedan inside the hangar. Vandrel hit a switch and a bank of fluorescent lights flooded the hangar. The light revealed rows and rows of vehicles in various states of disrepair. There looked to be a spray booth in the far corner.

  Vandrel surveyed the Lexus, circling the car like he was examining an antique with his nose inches from the paintwork and his hands tucked behind him with the shotgun in his grasp. After he circled the Lexus three times, he straightened and faced Todd.

  “Don’t no one buy American these days?”

  “I think Lexuses are made in the US.”

  “Don’t give me that. A Jap car is a Jap car wherever it’s built.”

  Todd let the subject of foreign trade drop. A heated debate could affect the final price.

  Vandrel opened the rear passenger door and peered in at the shredded backseat. He paused in contemplation before slamming the door shut.

  “So what’s the story, son? Why have you driven all the way out to me?”

  Todd fed him the same line he’d spooned to Ginger about the bad breakup and the repo man. Vandrel mulled the lie over.

  “Finance companies. They’re your friends when you’re riding high and the enemy when you’re on the skids,” Vandrel said.

  “Ain't that the truth.”

  “And the backseat?”

  “Vandals. The bastards broke in and tore it up.”

  “They didn’t go to town on it.”

  “They were probably disturbed in the act. I suppose I should count myself lucky.”

  “That you should. Anyway, it’s getting late and I still have things to do. Let’s talk numbers. Blue book on this is around twenty grand, even with the torn up backseat,” he began.

  Todd failed to hide his delight. Twenty grand would go a long way. It was the stuff that fresh starts were made from.

  “But I’ll give you five hundred,” Vandrel finished.

  Vandrel’s punch line forced a gasp out of Todd. He should have known this wasn’t going to be easy.

  “If you’re not interested, why don’t you say, instead of wasting your time and mine?” Todd hadn’t intended on unleashing such a venom-filled response, but Vandrel shouldn’t have jerked him around. He brushed by the guy to get to the driver’s door, but Vandrel blocked his path with the shotgun.

  “Son, this car is worth five hundred bucks because it comes with twenty grand’s worth of trouble attached to it. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Todd invoked his Fifth Amendment right and said nothing.

  “I didn’t think so,” Vandrel said and lowered the gun. “Have you got papers for this vehicle?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anybody looking for it?”

  “Not in this state.”

  “That’s good. That’s just tacked on a couple of h
undred.”

  Seven hundred bucks. That wasn’t worth wiping his ass on.

  “So what’s the real story on this?” Vandrel nodded in the direction of the Lexus.

  Todd didn’t see much point in bullshitting. Vandrel had it all worked out except for the finer details.

  “As far as I know, the car’s stolen and I was supposed to deliver it to Dallas.”

  “Dallas? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a half a day’s drive from there. What changed?”

  “Circumstances.”

  “Circumstances might just bite me just as hard as they’ve bitten you. I think I’ll take that two hundred back.”

  “Back to five hundred then?”

  Vandrel nodded. “I’ll ask again. What’s with the backseat?”

  “An unexpected bonus for my time. It’s gone. You don’t have to know about it.”

  “But it sounds like I should worry about it. I’m getting the idea that I should keep my five hundred and let you be on your way.”

  Funny what a few minutes did. The five hundred deal had insulted Todd. Now he lamented its loss like an old friend. “If that’s the way you want to play it, fine. I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

  “Now, then, cool your heels, son. What’s your name?”

  “Todd.”

  “Todd, I like you. Yeah, you can give me that look, but it’s true. You’re a straight shooter and I appreciate that. I deal with a lot of scum. Not that that bothers me, mind. It comes with the territory. I find it refreshing to find someone who doesn’t see bullshit as necessary as air. I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you ten grand for the Lexus. I know that’s not what you were hoping for but you’re not in a position to bargain. You’re in a hole and me throwing you a line does me no favors unless you do something for me in return. Ten grand is good money, you’ve got to agree?”

  Todd did agree. In all honesty, he was expecting a couple of grand and hoping for five. Ten, although not as pleasing to the ear as twenty, still possessed a natural beauty he could admire. But it also seemed generous to the point that it gave Todd pause. There was something coming and he speeded its arrival.