Deception

by Dan Lawton

  I’m torn between wearing a tie or not. I don’t want to be too aggressive and intimidate her or push her away somehow, but I want to show her that I mean business too. My tie rack spins automatically, so I grab a couple as it rotates from its stationary spot in the closet. The black looks sharp under the blazer, and the purple fits well with the dark khakis, so it’s a toss-up. With one in each hand, I rotate them back and forth to my collar as I look at my reflection in the mirror. A combination of both would be perfect, maybe a solid black with purple pinstripes, but that I don’t have. That helps make my decision. I wait for the open slots to swivel around on the tie rack, then I hang both ties back in place. I’ll go without tonight.

  I can hear the TV blaring as I make my way down the hallway and into the open living area. The house is compact, but it was perfect for when it was just me. The space has become tight since Frank moved in, but I really didn’t have a choice in the matter. I couldn’t have just left him somewhere on his own. I don’t think the state would have even allowed it. Frank pulls his feet off the table just as I enter the room.

  “Get your feet off the table,” I say.

  “My feet aren’t on the table.”

  “I saw you.”

  He looks away, just as a guilty dog would.

  “I’m going out. Will you be okay by yourself? There are some leftovers in the fridge, you can eat that for dinner.”

  Frank nods and I storm out the front door before he can say anything. I don’t need his distraction right now.

  ---

  It’s 5:02 P.M. and I’m waiting outside Josie’s Bar and Pub just down the block from City Hall. The parking lot is filling up quickly as happy hour has officially begun, but I don’t see Alicia yet. I didn’t ask what kind of vehicle she’s driving, and I guess I probably should have. As I glance down the busy sidewalk, someone catches my attention.

  I watch her as she struts confidently down the sidewalk and toward the pub. She’s a lot taller than I expected. A form-fitting coffee-colored dress hugs her hips as she glides along in her matching heels. The dress is a shade lighter than her skin, and it’s a stunning combination.

  What I wouldn’t do to get with her.

  I get out of the van, stand beside it, and wait. Alicia waves to me as she approaches.

  “Hey, Billy,” she says as she makes her way toward me.

  “Did you walk all the way here?”

  “Yeah, I walked.”

  “No car?”

  “No, not yet. It’s on the to-do list.” She’s a little embarrassed.

  “You should have told me, I would have picked you up.”

  “That’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  There is a brief silence as we stand around, unsure what’s appropriate to say next.

  “Shall we?” I say, motioning to the door.

  “Lets, I’m starving.”

  Inside, the pub is jammed. The bar is nearly full and the bartenders are already running around like crazy. We wait a few minutes in the lobby before being escorted to an empty table with two wire chairs. Other similar arrangements surround us.

  “Thanks for bringing me here,” Alicia says as we wait for the young waitress to bring us our drinks. “I’ve heard this is the spot around here.”

  “It is a pretty common place for lots of the locals. Thanks for joining me.”

  “It’s hard to say no to a police officer.” She smiles at me, teasing.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll take it. It’s not everyday someone like you agrees to come out with me.”

  She blushes.

  I continue, “I’m just glad that I can help you get comfortable in a new place. Where are you from anyway?”

  “Florida. I moved into town a few weeks ago.”

  “Why Kansas?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  I glance at my watch. “I’m in no rush.” I lean back in the chair, and it presses uncomfortably into my lower back.

  “Okay. Where to start?”

  The waitress swings by the table and leaves a dark beer for me and a light beer for Alicia, both tall. The hops tickle the back of my nose as I sip mine.

  “I’m actually from Cuba,” Alicia continues. “I moved to Florida some years back to go to FSU. I’ve had a few jobs since college, and I’ve been in the states on a work visa.”

  “You’re not a citizen yet?”

  “No, not yet. You’re not going to arrest me are you?” She pokes her tongue out slightly, and I smile at her. “I probably won’t even bother at this point.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  Uneasiness takes over her face and she looks a little bit uncomfortable. She sighs before proceeding, “I’ve got some…family issues back in Cuba. My mother has been sick for a while, so I’m thinking about going back to help out.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He’s around and he tries to help, but he works so much to pay for the medical bills, so it’s tough.”

  I nod, offering my sympathy.

  “He’s been ready to retire for a couple of years now, but they just don’t have the money.”

  “That’s tough. What does he do for work?”

  “It’s kind of ironic actually, he works for the Cuban government. The Department of Justice.”

  She has my attention, but I try to hide my excitement. That might work out perfectly. “Were you able to get into the states okay? The relationship between the United States and the Cuban governments’ isn’t exactly...robust. I’m sorry if I’m being too blunt, I don’t mean to interrogate you. I’m just curious.”

  She shrugs. “It’s okay. My dad took care of the paperwork for me at the time. He handles visas and deportation and stuff at work, so he must have figured it out.”

  I nod, satisfied with the answer.

  She continues, “So I might go back to help out with my mother. I just need to save up some more money first.”

  “Wow, that’s really nice, putting someone else’s needs before your own. It’s really selfless of you. I’m not sure I could do that.” I play with the rim of the glass and try to change the subject before it gets sappy and awkward. “What about the new job though? You said you haven’t been in town very long.”

  “Yeah, I know. I feel bad. It wasn’t the plan, but things have gotten worse with mom’s health in the past couple of weeks, right after I moved here basically.”

  “How did you end up in Kansas then? We never did get there. Florida, FSU, then what?” I take another sip of my beer.

  “I did some work with the city of Tallahassee right after school for a while, then I saw this job opening here. It was a better job that paid more, so I applied and they flew me in for an interview, and here we are.”

  “Speaking of that, what are you doing for the city? I wasn’t even aware there was an opening.”

  “I’m the City Clerk.”

  “What happened to Helga?”

  “Who?”

  “Helga. She was the City Clerk for as long as I can remember.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Retired maybe.”

  I grunt. “Good for her. She was a nice lady, always liked her. I guess I’ve been out of the loop lately. I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I motion to her full glass and chuckle. “You may want to drink that up. You might need it.”

  She grabs the glass from the table and leans back in her chair. “I’m listening.”

  I tell her my story. I tell her everything about what’s going on at work, the Zved’s, Frank, and what happened to my father. I tell her too much information probably, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Plus, I’m here for a reason, so I need to gauge her reaction to see if she’s going to work. She eats most of her plate by the time I finish talking, but she listens politely. When finished, I exhale and guzzle the rest of my beer. Just talking about it has gotten my blood boiling.

  Alicia takes the opportunity to chime in. “That’s quite a story,” she
says.

  I slam the empty glass on the table harder than I expected, and the clunk of the glass surprises me. It’s time to talk business. “So I know we just met and all, and this may seem a bit sudden and out of nowhere, but I’m thinking we may be able to help each other out…if you’re interested.”

  She contemplates while intently studying me, and I can tell I have her attention. She leans forward in her chair and rests her elbows on the table. “What did you have in mind?”

  “What would you say if I told you I may be able to help you with your money troubles?

  CHAPTER NINE

  GEORGE

  I stand alone in the closet while my mind runs rampant with more questions than answers. She’s pregnant? Did she look pregnant? That would make her six weeks along, could I even tell at this point? I didn’t notice anything, but I wasn’t looking either. Why would she tell me that if it wasn’t true? Is it mine? It has to be mine, right?

  Billy will be back soon, so I try to pull myself together. I take a deep breath and think. Okay, so what now? Option one is do what these guys say and hope I don’t die. Hope we don’t die. Option two is refuse to help them and definitely die. I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?

  In the hall, I hear footsteps. Billy’s coming. Moments later, the door opens and he enters.

  “So,” Billy begins, “what will it be?”

  “You win.”

  Billy nods his head in agreement. “I thought you’d see it my way.”

  “Say I do get the money somehow, then what? What’s in it for me?”

  “You walk away. You and the girl. You can have your whole little family. I get my money, and you go home happy. Everybody wins.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t have a choice. There is no other alternative for you.”

  He’s right.

  “Fine. I’m in.”

  Without saying anything, Billy turns and walks out the door. He pops his head back in a moment later and looks to me. “Are you coming?”

  I reach for and pull the string hanging from the ceiling, killing the light, then follow Billy into the hall.

  ---

  I sit on the cracked, faded, black leather bench in the rear of Billy’s van, my hands tied together in my lap with a shaggy rope. It’s the same van that grabbed me earlier, that much I remember. Billy drives in silence mostly, whistling a tune periodically. The other guy, Frank, sits across from me, obliviously picking his nose like no one is around.

  The floor of the van is covered with shit. Not shit like feces, but shit like junk: Gum wrappers, cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and an old sneaker. The rear windows are tinted on the outside and covered with a sheet on the inside. No one can see in and no one can see out. I didn’t notice before, but it’s musty. It kind of reminds me of an old attic, or a wet dog. I can’t pinpoint it exactly. A black bag rests between Frank’s legs under the bench he’s sitting on. Suddenly, and seemingly randomly, the van slows down and comes to a stop. We couldn’t have gone much more than a few miles from the warehouse. The engine is killed.

  “We’re here,” Billy says, now turned to Frank and me. “Get your finger out of your nose.”

  Frank looks surprised he was caught, and he quickly removes his index finger from his left nostril. He wipes his finger on the seat. Billy gives him a look, and Frank shrugs. Billy turns back and faces the front, then opens his door and hops down.

  Moments later, the backdoors swing open and Billy is silhouetted in the afternoon sun. I shield my eyes with my tied hands. Frank stands, approaches me, and motions for me to get up. He grabs the rope on my wrists and we leap out the backdoors together.

  The scene is unfamiliar to me, a place I’ve never been. I don’t spend much time exploring new places, but I’ve lived in Kansas my whole life and this place looks foreign. To my right, a chain-link fence with high voltage warning signs enclose a large structure. It’s huge, probably as wide as a tree trunk at the base and as tall as a skyscraper, although it does narrow out a bit at the top. I suspect it’s a cell tower.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask to anyone who will listen.

  Billy looks around with his head pointed in the sky. Frank stands next to me.

  “A lovely day, isn’t it?” Billy says as he breathes in heavily through his nose, still looking up. He fetches a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lights it with a Zippo. He flips the cover open and closed, the aluminum clicking with each motion while he smokes. He smokes the entire stick without anyone saying a word. When he finished, he finally continues, “I bet you’re wondering why I brought you here.”

  I just stare at him, the question too stupid to offer a polite response. He fetches some gum from his pocket and disposes of the wrapper on the dirt. He points to the tower.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  “It’s a tower,” I say.

  Billy smiles. “It’s not just a tower, George. It’s a cell phone tower. Do you know the range on this thing?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “37 miles. 37.25 miles actually. 196,680 feet. But who’s counting?”

  “So?”

  “You got a problem with that?” Frank is suddenly in my face, unprompted and aggressive. He pulls me up by my collar. We stare at one another, me looking down at him in fear, Frank looking up at me in rage. Then he smiles. “I just kiddin’ with you, Georgie.” He pulls me toward him and kisses me, then puts me down and laughs. “Just playin’.”

  I stand there staring at him, defenseless, my hands still tied, and say nothing. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He definitely seems to have a screw loose. Billy walks toward us, stops, and slaps Frank in the back of the head.

  “Fuck off,” he says. “Go wait in the van.”

  Frank’s face drops, but he does what he’s told. He closes the rear doors of the van and disappears inside. He looks like a big kid who just got caught stealing another cookie.

  “Why are we here?” I ask, now getting frustrated. “Where are we?”

  Billy doesn’t say anything. He spins me around and leads me toward the front of the van. He points out into the flatland at a small building. It looks like a tiny run-down house.

  “There,” Billy says, “that’s where Snake hides out.”

  “Snake?”

  “Yeah, Snake. Snake is the leader of the Zved’s.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  BILLY

  “How was your date?” Frank asks as I sneak into the house and quietly close the door. It’s late, just after midnight, so I’m surprised Frank is still awake. The light from the TV fills up the otherwise dark living room. He regularly watches TV with all the lights off, which I’ve never understood.

  “Fine, but I’m going to bed now though. I’ll see you in the morning,” I say.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Did you not hear what I just said? I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

  Frank doesn’t respond and just continues to watch whatever movie or program he’s indulged into this evening. He’ll sulk about the rejection until morning.

  Alicia is on board with my idea, now I just need to figure out how the hell to implement it. I quickly rip off my clothes and toss them in the laundry basket near the closet before sliding into bed without brushing my teeth. I can smell the warm beer on my own breath and I can taste the staleness in my mouth, but I ignore it. I close my eyes and block out the noise, hoping I’ll find the answers subconsciously as I sleep.

  ---

  It’s morning and Frank is still asleep on the couch with the TV actually off. He sometimes puts it on a sleep timer so he has some background noise to fall asleep to, so I’m guessing that’s the case here. I enjoy the silence. The spare bedroom has all of Frank’s personal belongings in it, but he rarely sleeps in there. He hasn’t handled our father’s death very well, and I guess I can’t blame him for that. Our father took him in after he was released from the hospital, and Frank was there un
til our father died. Our father was all he had.

  I start a pot of coffee and try to be as quiet as possible so I don’t wake Frank. I retrieve a pen and a notepad from one of the kitchen drawers and start jotting down the thoughts that came to me during sleep. My brainstorming session isn’t much more than a jumbled mess of a web of ideas, but it helps me to see everything on paper. I do the same thing at work when trying to solve a case that’s gone cold, or at least I used to. I may not ever be going back there, we’ll see.

  The pot of crushed grounds on the counter catches my nose when ready, and I pour myself a cup. I add in a pinch of sugar and make my way back to the notepad on the table. Frank’s nose catches the aroma too, as he wakes just moments later. His grunts and groans are distracting as he pulls himself up from the couch, his morning wood fully engaged. He staggers to the table and sits across from me. I look up at him but don’t say anything.

  “Mornin’,” he grumbles.

  “Morning. There’s some coffee on the counter if you want some.” I motion behind me to the fresh steaming pot.

  Frank shakes his head. “How was last night?”

  “Fine. Not much to say really.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Not too much.”

  It’s a lie.

  “Do you like her?”

  “Yes, I like her.”

  Frank smiles. “Does she like you?”

  “I don’t know Frank, we just had dinner,” I snap. I’m sterner than needed, but I don’t want to talk about it with him. Not yet.

  Frank rubs the crust from his eyes before noticing the pad that I continue to make notes on during gaps in conversation. He leans in close to it and peeks at the upside down letters, then he glances back up at me. “What you doin’?”

  I drop the pen on the table and lean back in my chair before looking at him. I study his groggy face while he tries to wake himself by blinking repeatedly. “Have you ever thought about us getting out of here?”

  “What do you mean?”