False Ransom (Mike Chance series Book 1)

by Ivan Infante

  When Mike returned and came in the back door, Benny stood there waiting for him. “You see the car?”

  “Yeah. I parked it around in front. I covered up the mess pretty good, but I wouldn’t leave it more than a day.” Mike moved across from Benny so Doug lay on the floor between them. Benny had found another large piece of canvas and had laid it out on the floor next to the body.

  Benny scoffed. “Are you kidding? We’re gonna get rid of it tonight. Now, help me get this guy downstairs.”

  They stooped down at each end of Doug. Mike grabbed the upper body by the under arms. Benny took the ankles. They picked up the body and put it down on the canvas. Then they rolled him up in it. Doug was a round man and it was easy. In a flash, he was wrapped up. Then they each grabbed a piece of the canvas and dragged the body over to the trapdoor that led to the basement. Benny opened it and Mike rolled the body through the opening. It dropped and hit the floor with a loud wet thump.

  They climbed down the stairs after it, pulled it into a corner and stacked crates of wine in front of it to hide it from view. Before they were done, they heard the door open upstairs. Mike looked over at Benny. “What was that?”

  “My people. They’re due.” Benny didn’t seem worried about the pool of blood on the floor. He finished stacking crates.

  When they got back upstairs, the blood was almost gone. Lo and the other Chinese were down on their hands and knees cleaning it up. Benny and Mike stood there and watched them for a second. No one said a word.

  Mike broke the silence as he stepped around the Chinese to get to the back door. “I suggest you stay here until dark. There’s no point in digging a grave before midnight. I’m going straight home myself. You know where you wanna take him?” Mike had his hand on the back door.

  “Yeah, and we won’t need to do any digging.” Benny managed a smile.

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you at midnight.” Mike stepped out into the alley. The door closed before he’d finished the sentence.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mike spent the day sitting in his apartment in the semi-dark of drawn blinds. He had pulled the big leather chair over to a window that faced the building across from him. He sat there drinking whiskey and staring through a gap in the blinds that he’d made with a knife. He didn’t see anything interesting. He didn’t see anything at all. Still, the looking was enough. It helped him relax. At some point, he passed out. When he woke up, it was midnight and the phone was ringing. It rang three times before he mustered up out of the chair and answered.

  Benny said, “You coming or what?”

  The phone went dead before he could answer. Mike stared at it for a second. Then he hung up and stretched his bulk to its full height. He walked toward his bedroom with his arms stretched over his head. He was tall, but his arms had plenty of room. The Ashton had high ceilings.

  In his bedroom, he changed clothes. He dressed for the job. He wore a dark blue sweater with a tear in it, heavy denim pants with a hole in the knee, and thick leather work gloves. The gloves were well worn and the leather was shiny. On his way out, he stopped at his suit jacket and took out the Savage. He checked it, then slid it into his right pocket.

  When Mike got to Benny’s, the parking lot was almost full. Benny’s clients didn’t live too high on the hog. Their cars were mostly older models, dented-up and worn down. Mike trudged past the cars and up the gravel lot toward the Woodie. He could hear Tommy Dorsey’s ‘Dipsy-Doodle’ playing on the radio inside. Mike didn’t care for music and he hated this number in particular. It had been a hit about a year ago. He had heard it everywhere.

  Mike found the Woodie parked up against the front wall of the bar where he’d left it. He opened the door and checked the seat. The blood under the canvas tarp was drying, but still sticky. He put the tarp back down, slid onto it and started up the Woodie.

  Mike maneuvered carefully around the other cars in the crowded lot. The Woodie drove well and didn’t give him any trouble. He pulled it around into the alley and backed it right up to the door. He left the motor running when he got out. He went around and opened the back, then he knocked on Benny’s door.

  The door opened instantly. Benny stayed back in the dark of the interior. He swayed a little as he held the door open for Mike. His eyes were red and his eyelids puffy. Mike figured that Benny must have lost his nerve sometime in the afternoon and calmed himself with a ride on the horse. Benny usually tried to time his usage so his head would be right when work came around. This time, he had missed and he tried to hide it, but Mike had seen Benny like this before. Mike knew the score.

  Mike stared at Benny for just long enough to let him know he’d found him out. It didn’t matter much to Mike. He knew Benny would get his legs back if there were trouble. Mike looked into the dark behind Benny. Benny and the Chinese had brought the body up from the basement and it lay on the floor wrapped in canvas. It looked like a big sack of trash.

  Mike stepped inside. The noise from the crowded bar spilled in from the kitchen. On the radio, Tommy Dorsey urged the band on to a different number. Mike didn’t like this one either. Mike headed for the canvas. He went around to Doug’s top half. Benny went to the legs. They stooped down in unison and picked up the body.

  They struggled to get it out the door. Benny walked backward. He stumbled on the last step out and almost fell, but he got his balance back at the last second by bracing against the side of the truck. After Benny got his feet back under him, it only took a few more seconds to trundle the corpse into the back of the Woodie. Mike shut the back of the truck when they were done and headed for the driver’s seat. Benny locked the back door of his saloon, then got in the car too.

  Mike drove out of the alley and took two sharp turns to get onto Wilshire. He drove slowly. He stayed at the same speed as traffic and kept his eyes on the road. Benny sat low in the seat next to him and smoked constantly. He talked to himself under his breath and Mike only got the faintest sense of the words.

  Eventually, Benny stopped mumbling and took a deep breath before talking out loud. He said. “Listen, we gotta find someone to talk to, someone that knows what the hell is going on. We could be in the middle of someone’s play.”

  Mike smiled a little, reached over and took the cigarette out of Benny’s mouth to smoke for himself. “I’m glad you didn’t close the bar.”

  Benny nodded. “I thought about it.”

  “It woulda been irregular. Out of the ordinary.” Mike exhaled the words.

  Benny didn’t like the way that sounded. He shot back. “There was a body in the basement. That’s out of the ordinary. What if someone had wandered down there and seen it? Most people charge a lotta money to carry that heavy a secret.”

  Benny took out another cigarette. The car was moving quickly now and the wind blew out his match. Benny rolled up his window and motioned for Mike to do the same. Mike turned the handle to comply, but nothing happened. There was no glass.

  Benny ducked his head down to protect the match with the dashboard and got a flame going long enough to light his smoke. When he leaned forward, he could see out the holes the bullets had made in the bottom of the car. He watched the asphalt rush past. It gave him focus.

  When Benny sat up, he spoke calmly. “We’re going to the beach. Turn right on Western. Left on Santa Monica.”

  Mike hit the gas. They turned up Western. Mike had no idea how far it was to Santa Monica Boulevard, so he kept looking at Benny for hints. In just a few minutes, Benny gave him one. Mike got over to the left and turned onto Santa Monica. There was very little traffic. He picked up speed.

  When they got to the coast, they turned north up the narrow coastal road that passed through Malibu. The Pacific was a black pool on their left. On their right, the Santa Monica mountains loomed over them. Mike pushed the truck to the limit. The tires squealed when the Woodie took the curves.

  After about an hour, Benny gestured for Mike to slow down and turn off onto a vertiginous dirt road that headed downh
ill toward the ocean. The road was abandoned and overgrown with scrub. If Benny hadn’t pointed it out, Mike never would have seen it. He drove the truck at a crawl. The sand slid under the tires, but they held. Eventually, the ground leveled out and the Woodie pulled onto a low bluff about six feet above the water. In front of him in the dark, Mike could barely make out a spindly wooden pier that jutted out over the ocean.

  Benny pointed at the pier. “Turn the car around and back out to the end. I’ll tell you how far. It’ll be easier than carrying him.”

  Mike thought about it for a second before he responded. “You sure that bridge can hold this much weight?”

  “It’s not a bridge. It’s a pier. And it can. Now back out there. It’ll be easier than carrying him.

  Mike complied. He turned the Woodie so it faced away from the water and backed it onto the narrow rickety dock. Benny turned in his seat and faced backward. He directed Mike via a series of nudges and grunts. In the dark, it was hard to see where the dock ended so Mike drove slowly until Benny signaled for him to stop.

  “All right, now comes the hard part.” Benny clapped his hands.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Mike sneered. He didn’t like the clapping.

  They got out of the truck and made their way around to the back. Benny had instructed Mike to park only a few inches from the end of the pier. The back tires were right on the edge. They had almost gone into the water. That would have been unfortunate. The ocean looked cold and Mike wasn’t one for swimming. He shook his head in disbelief. Benny shrugged it off and lit a smoke. Mike snatched it from him and walked back to the driver’s side. He got behind the wheel and pulled forward a few feet so they’d have room to maneuver. Then he got out again and returned to where Benny stood at the end of the pier. Benny lit another smoke and looked down at the water. Mike followed his gaze.

  “This the boat?” Mike pointed at a small rowboat that was tied loosely to the end of the pier. It banged against the pilings with the rhythm of the tide.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “It looks small.” Mike said.

  “It’ll do. I’ve tested it. I got chains and bricks to weigh him down. The boat’ll take that weight and us too. Don’t you worry, you’ll see. Let’s start with Doug.” Benny turned, went back to the rear of the Woodie and opened the door.

  “All right.” Mike came over. Together they reached in, grabbed the canvas sack and pulled. Blood seeped through the tarp and left a red smear on the truck bed. When they had the body out, they let it drop onto the pier and it splatted on the wood slats.

  Mike went to the end of the pier and looked down at the small boat again. “How’re we gonna get him down there?”

  Benny didn’t answer. He motioned for Mike to follow his lead. Benny grabbed the feet. Mike grabbed the shoulders and they picked up the body again. Once they had a good grip, Benny steered Mike to the edge of the pier. He started to swing the feet out over the edge. Mike did the same thing. They swung the body out over the water like it was a sack of potatoes. After a couple of practice swings, they both let go at the exact same time. A word hadn’t passed between them. The body fell perfectly and hit the center of the small rowboat. It bounced a little, but stayed onboard. Water splashed up at them, but it didn’t reach high enough to get them wet.

  “How do we get down?” Mike sure wasn’t jumping.

  “Ladder.” Benny pointed at a rickety slat-wood ladder that was nailed to the pilings of the pier. It’s bottom rungs disappeared into the water.

  Mike nodded and walked over to it. He sat down on the edge of the pier and checked the first couple of rungs with his feet. The ladder felt reasonably stable so Mike started down. He stopped before he dropped below the level of the pier and said. “You’re doing the rowing.”

  “Why me?” Benny finished his cigarette and tossed it into the water.

  “Because It’s your fault I met this bastard in the first place.” Mike started climbing down again.

  “Yeah, but have you ever dumped a body in the ocean before?” Benny yelled. Then he turned and got a canvas sack from the back of the Woodie. It was heavy and hard to carry, so he dragged it on the ground behind him.

  Mike stopped on the ladder a few rungs above the water. The boat bobbed against the pier just a few feet away. Mike jumped for it. He landed in the boat with a splash. There were several inches of water over the bottom boards. It soaked his shoes. Mike cursed under his breath and the smoke fell out of his mouth. It fizzled in the water.

  Mike made his way around Doug’s corpse and sat on the thwart facing forward. When he got settled, he fumbled in his jacket for another cigarette and lit it as soon as he found it.

  “Fine, but you row back.” Benny stood on the ladder now. He dangled the sack at the end of his arm. Mike could tell the little guy was having trouble with it, but Benny didn’t ask for help and Mike didn’t offer.

  Instead, Benny took another step down before he swung the sack out over the boat and dropped it. It hit hard. More water splashed on Mike, but he saw it coming and covered his smoke with his hand. He didn’t want to have to light it again.

  Benny finished climbing down and he settled onto the center thwart. The tiny boat was low in the water now.

  “You sure about this?” Mike asked.

  “I’m sure.” Benny picked up the oars from the bottom of the boat and put them in the row locks.

  Mike took his word for it and undid the last line that held them to the pier. He pushed off the piling as hard as he could. He timed it badly and a big wave almost sent them crashing back into the pier, but Benny heaved at the oars and propelled them over the top of it. After the first wave, it got easier. The surf offered a few more hard slaps, but that was it. Soon, they were in the open water.

  “This is what was in store for the money man last night?” Mike smoked and stared up at the stars.

  “It’s the best way to dump a stiff. The Pacific is pretty big.” Benny paused at the oars for a second. You could tell by the look on his face that he was cold and already tired of rowing. After a couple more pulls, he stopped again and the boat drifted.

  “How many times you done this?” Mike waited for an answer with more interest than usual. Benny was a top notch tout, grifter and card sharp, but if he had his own watery graveyard, that was even better.

  “What the hell would I answer that for?” Benny tossed his cigarette overboard and got to work.

  Mike watched him. Benny moved like someone who had done this before, many times before. First, Benny kneeled down in the bottom of the boat and opened the canvas bag. He took out a long chain and wrapped it around Doug’s corpse. The body had stiffened in the last couple of hours, so it was a struggle in the small wet space in the bottom of the boat. Despite the difficulty, Benny still didn’t ask Mike for any help. He did it all himself. Once he wrapped the chain around the body six or seven times, he secured it with an old iron lock. Then he went back to the canvas sack and took out a small anchor. It looked heavy. He brought the anchor over to the body and fastened it to the end of the chain. Benny stopped for a second. He reached forward and took the cigarette from Mike’s mouth. He puffed on it a few times, then tossed it into the ocean.

  “How you going to get him over the side all by yourself?” Mike wondered out loud.

  Benny didn’t answer. He grabbed Doug by the upper body and dragged him to the side of the boat. When the body was on the railing, Benny tossed the anchor. It sank fast and Benny used its weight to help him slide Doug over the railing. The body slid underwater in seconds and only the blood stains on the railing remained as evidence of what they’d done, but Benny scooped up some of the water from the bottom of the boat and washed it away.

  When Benny finished, he climbed into the bow and Mike took his place at the oars. Mike had lost his sense of direction, so he looked to Benny. Benny directed him with a gesture. Mike nodded, picked up the oars and rowed. He put his back into it and the small boat moved quickly toward the sho
re.

  When they got back in the Woodie, Benny took the wheel and drove southeast. They left the ocean behind them. At some point, Mike fell asleep. He woke up to the smell of oranges. Mike glanced around. The city lights were behind them.

  Benny saw Mike was awake and answered his question before he asked it. “That’s Burbank behind us. We’ll be there soon.”

  “What time is it?” Mike yawned.

  “We should be done by morning. We’re almost there.”

  The road dropped down a steep hill and the city lights disappeared from behind them. At the bottom of the decline, Benny pulled off the highway and turned right down a steeper, unpaved road that slowly turned into a dry riverbed . The Woodie bounced along for a good distance kicking up a plume of dust in its wake. After a bumpy ride, the scrub brush thinned out and the land got flat. Benny pulled into a clearing and stopped the car.

  They sat in silence for a while until Mike said. “No.”

  Benny looked over with a slight smile on his lips. “I didn’t even ask yet.”

  Mike turned and mimicked his friend. “Do we have to burn it, Mike? Why not sell it? It’s perfectly good.”

  Benny shook him off. “That’s not what I’m thinking.” He said, but they both knew he was lying. It was exactly what he was thinking.

  Mike didn’t respond verbally. He pointed at the bullet holes that pockmarked the passenger side and the floor boards.

  “Oh, right.” Benny shrugged and got out of the car. Mike followed him.

  Benny went to the back of the Woodie and took out a spare gas can. He poured its contents all over the bloody interior. Then Benny siphoned more gas from the tank into the can. Then he poured that on the front seat. After he was done, Benny stood next to the Woodie and tossed lit matches through the windows. He tossed several before the Woodie caught fire. When it did, it went up like an old Christmas tree and a column of dirty black smoke rose up into the sky. It got thicker and thicker.