I Warned You_Welcome to Fall River

by Shawn Underhill

  “Basically.”

  He walked along the coolers on the right side of the establishment. There were frozen dinners and pizzas and cold sandwiches. On racks there were all the standard options of chips and assorted trash food. None of it looked great. But he was hungry. He needed something.

  He settled on a turkey sandwich and a bottle of iced tea from the coolers. Went up to the register to pay. By then Sal was staring out the front windows at the parking lot.

  “You got a car, Matt?”

  “Just testing it out.”

  “I thought you were a truck man.”

  “I’m not about to buy it. I just got it from two guys trying to rob me.”

  Sal kept on smiling. He thought Ryan was joking with him. He was nodding, smiling, waiting for the joke to continue.

  Ryan said, “I’m dead serious.”

  “Really?”

  “Sharky caught a guy cutting locks off of units. Long story short, the guy hurt himself and I followed him to that car on School Street. There was another guy in the car. Things happened, and here I am with their car.”

  Sal asked, “What about the guys?”

  “They’re being handled.”

  “Chuck arrested them?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So they’re loose in the neighborhood?”

  “Of course not. One has brain damage, so he’s pretty much harmless. But I disarmed him, just in case. And the other one is outside, in the trunk, learning how much he never wants to see me or this town again.”

  Sal started smiling again and said, “You almost tricked me there for a minute. Funny guy, Matt. I am glad we’re friends.”

  Ryan said, “Come on out if you don’t believe me. I’ll show you. He’s a weird guy, that’s for sure. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

  Sal walked away before Ryan paid. He went out and stood there looking at the idling Honda. Not a bad little car. Just sitting there idling quietly.

  Sal said, “Matt, I am your friend.”

  “Sure.”

  “Then you must tell me the truth.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  “Are you joining the mafia?”

  “Hell no. I just put him in there temporarily. I’m not keeping him.”

  “You joke so much, it’s hard to tell when you’re serious. I know how you love the Italian food. It stands to reason, you might join.”

  Ryan opened the door and popped the trunk. Sal looked in cautiously, as if expecting a tiger to leap out at him. He leaned closer and stared in amazement. There was the guy. A small Albino man, likely from south of the border. All scrunched into the trunk and looking miserable. Sal had never seen a man in a trunk, live and in person.

  “You are the man, Matt,” Sal said. “Oh, I would never be able to pull this off if I found a thief. I’m afraid I would freeze up.”

  “It wasn’t that hard.”

  “Were you afraid?”

  “More angry. Just the idea of thieves pisses me off.”

  “Oh, it’s so great. I love mafia movies. We are in one, hey Matt?”

  Ryan closed the trunk and said, “I’m not joining any mafia, Sal. Just keeping these morons off my property. And hopefully out of our town. Ever heard what happened to Jesse James up in Minnesota?”

  Sal shook his head and said, “I feel so safe with you for a neighbor. No one will dare rob us.”

  “Well, we need to send a message. No bullshit welcome around here. Otherwise we’ll start getting taken advantage of by scumbags looking for soft targets.”

  Sal nodded and said, “You keep the sandwich and the tea. My gift. I will not take your money, Matt. No, sir. You are a security service in my eyes.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Close enough. Keep the food. Please.”

  Ryan shrugged and thanked him. He peeled off the gloves and ate the small sandwich pretty fast while Sal stood there smiling and nodding. His head was bobbing as if to a musical beat. He was on the verge of being awestruck. Like a kid having lunch with a sports hero.

  ***

  Since it was a beautiful night for a drive, Ryan decided to take the Honda up Side Street. Which turned into Mill Brook Road after half a mile. Which was an old dirt road that eventually came out in a neighboring town, several miles north.

  Mill Brook Road was unmaintained, and therefore very bumpy. But also very pretty. It passed a pond with a little dam and a bridge over the road. The water flowing over the little dam went under the bridge and became Mill Brook, a popular fishing spot for Ryan when he was a kid. The brook was full of little brook trout. The whole area was a nice spot to visit, fishing or not, day or night.

  Ryan put the Honda’s window down and let the cold air rush in. He loved driving through the woods. The smell of pine and spruce. Getting in touch with nature. And the little car offered a smoother ride than his truck on the unmaintained road of washboard bumps and deep potholes and mud puddles. Otherwise the trip wouldn’t have been nearly as comfortable.

  He tried the Honda’s sound system. It was pretty good. He found a classic rock station and cranked it up, driving as fast as he dared without hitting a tree or missing a turn. Which he didn’t always succeed in. He never hit anything squarely, but he certainly clipped a lot of trees along the way, seriously damaged the side mirrors, and almost got stuck in a ditch once. The little engine was revving and he was really carving his way up the road, like a rally racer. He was still a truck guy at heart, but the snappy little car was more fun to drive than he would have guessed. He especially liked the digital speedometer.

  He slowed and stopped after crossing the little bridge in the middle of nowhere. He loved that spot. He couldn’t pass it without stopping. He got out and walked over by the dam.

  The water was trickling smoothly and he stood looking out at the pond under the starlight. It stretched away looking cold and glassy and a little foreboding. He knew for a fact that it was cold. Soon it would start freezing over and people would show up and drill holes in the ice to fish through, and some would clear the snow and skate or play hockey on the ice. They’d have campfires on the shore, and enjoy the outdoors. It was the perfect spot.

  After a while he went back to the Honda and popped the trunk. The little trunk light flicked on and it became utterly clear that the albino guy hadn’t been enjoying the ride in the least. He had vomited all over the place, and Ryan had to stand back a few feet and avert his eyes to avoid feeling queasy himself.

  “Please,” the guy said. “Don’t kill me.”

  “See where you are?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “In the woods.”

  “Right.”

  “You said people get lost.”

  “They do.”

  “I don’t want to get lost here. Don’t kill me. I can pay you. I have a lot of money. My girlfriend has it. She can bring it to you and you can let me go with her. You win. I will be long gone.”

  “Interesting,” Ryan said. “How much money are we talking?”

  “Over two million.”

  “In cash?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bullshit. You’re lying.”

  “No. No lie.”

  “You made that much money, and you’d risk getting caught with it? Getting it stolen or seized?”

  “It won’t.”

  “Won’t what?”

  “Get stolen.”

  “You lost three hundred grand.”

  “I was testing a new guy. I thought it would pay off.”

  “Guess he didn’t work out.”

  “No.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Everywhere. Hotels. Motels. Different states.”

  “And you keep that much cash on hand?”

  “I keep a lot.”

  “Not two million.”

  “Close.”

  “See, you’re messaging the story already. How can I trust you?”

  “I have the money.”

  �
��In a safe in your mansion?”

  “I can get it.”

  “That’s not the same as having it.”

  “I’ll call her and have her bring it to you. Two million dollars.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  The coyote didn’t answer.

  Ryan said, “This is supposed to be the part where I get greedy and stupid and ultimately dead. Right?”

  “No. I didn’t say that.”

  “You’ll have her bring some money. That’s probably true enough. And she’ll probably bring some more goons like the one with the tattoos.”

  “No.”

  “And they’ll try to kill me.”

  “I’ll tell them not to. I pay them well. They listen to me.”

  “So well that they won’t just take your two mil and split? You should consider that angle, if you’ve really got that much cash lying around.”

  The coyote kept quiet.

  “Sorry, man,” Ryan said. “You’re too shady to make a deal with. I guess I’ll have to figure out something else.”

  “Please, no,” he said.

  Ryan said nothing.

  “Don’t leave me out here.”

  “Did I threaten to?”

  “I don’t like the woods. Or the cold.”

  “I love the woods and the cold. Different folks, different strokes. I’d like to get a summer place up at the North Pole.”

  “Please,” the coyote said.

  “You should be thankful you didn’t meet me during an August heatwave. I tend to get a little cranky.”

  The guy sniffed.

  Ryan said, “You should learn to like the outdoors. It’s better than money and shady deals and always looking over your shoulder. Life is peaceful out here. The way it should be.”

  “No,” the coyote said.

  “No?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Your loss.”

  “You don’t have to kill me.”

  “You’ve got a guilty conscience. Because if this thing was the other way around, you’d kill me.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t like liars.”

  “I swear. I am honest.”

  “What should I do with you?”

  “I’ll pay you. Let me go. Please.”

  “Not that again.”

  “Look under the driver’s seat.”

  “Why?”

  “There is emergency money. Ten thousand cash.”

  “Like a down payment?”

  “It’s yours.”

  Ryan went and opened the rear door and knelt down and felt around under the seat. He pulled out a thick envelope that sure enough had a wad a cash inside. He retrieved the cash from the envelope, folded it and stuffed it into the chest pocket of his coat. Left the envelope on the floor and went back to the trunk.

  “You found it,” the coyote said.

  “I did. Thank you.”

  “So we have a deal.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. But you can keep giving me money and I’ll keep taking it.”

  The coyote didn’t respond. Instead he started to sob.

  “Hey, cheer up,” Ryan told him. “You had a good run. Even Escobar couldn’t last forever. Try to find the bright side.”

  “No.”

  “Your car is fun to drive.”

  “No.”

  “Really, it is. I’ve enjoyed it. Honestly.”

  “It’s not mine.”

  “Stolen?”

  “It’s my girl’s car. I paid for it.”

  “Nice of you. And nice of her to lend it out.”

  “She’s local. I have no license. She helps and I pay well. It’s good for both.”

  “I see. Just making a living. Using each other. If you had a kid it could be like a Lifetime movie, when a kid grows up and finds out who her true nasty parents were and ends up appreciating her adoptive parents all the more. It could be an inspirational holiday thing.”

  “What?” the coyote said.

  “Never mind. Tell me how you’re making all this money to throw around.”

  “Many ways.”

  “Like?”

  “I used to move people over borders. It was hard and dangerous.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I made connections. I moved up. There is money to be made in distributing, once across the border.”

  “Heroin?”

  “Sometimes. Many times. The northeast begs for it. We move it in. We spread it out. A chain of people. A pipeline.”

  “Are you some kind of a big deal?”

  “Not really. A link in a chain. Bigger than some, smaller than some.”

  “Your chain is destroying our state for quick profit. Costing lives and huge amounts of money.”

  “No one has to buy it. We sell what they want.”

  “True. I’m with you on that. It’s stupid to start. Just gives parasites like you a foot in the door. But if you’re ready and willing to take advantage of these people, to me you’re worse than them. You’re lower than a maggot.”

  “You don’t have to kill me. I want to leave this place forever.”

  “Good to hear,” Ryan said. “You mean the weather, or me?”

  “Both.”

  “Hey, that could be a TV show.”

  The guy stared silently.

  “Think about it,” Ryan said. “TV is all about ratings and drama and conflicts. You’re saying that you hate the cold. I’m saying I like cold weather. Get it?”

  “Please,” the guy said.

  “You’re not hearing me. Think about the differences between people that like different weather. Most shows are about crime, love, living with people of different backgrounds. Everything nowadays is about race or religion or sexuality stuff. Nobody agrees on any of it. So I’m saying, try something else. Make a show about people fighting about the weather. Or just the temperature of a house. Like one of those shows where strangers move in together. Think about it. Thermostat wars. Married couples have them all the time.”

  The coyote said nothing.

  “Don’t you see?” Ryan asked.

  “Please,” he said.

  “You’re just not getting it. If you put people that like heat in a cold house, or people like me in a hot house, the fur would really fly in no time flat. Cold people shivering, hot people sweating. They’d be so grumpy they’d fight like animals. Like the UFC. The ratings would be better than the Super Bowl.”

  “I watch soccer,” the coyote said.

  “Never mind,” Ryan said and closed the trunk. Got back in the Honda. Dropped it into drive and continued his rally race up the bumpy road.

  Chapter 18

  Denny Hutch said, “Stop fidgeting.”

  The guy with the crappy car said, “Sorry.”

  “You’re annoying me.”

  “I get hungry when I’m nervous.”

  “Too bad.”

  “You would say that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look at you. You’re so fat, you could go weeks with no food. I’m starving over here.”

  “You sample too much product. That’s your problem. Then you have to eat twice as much to make up for the days you ate nothing.”

  “Whatever. I guess you know everything.”

  “You feel like walking home?” Denny asked.

  Crappy car guy said, “No.”

  “You sure?” Denny pressed.

  “Sorry. Just take me to the little market. Real quick. I’ll grab some cash and some food. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

  “And risk missing the coyote?” Denny said.

  The quiet guy in the back opened his eyes and followed the argument. He figured if Denny kicked his cousin out, the money could be split by two, not three. That would be good. He would get more money. All he had to do was stay quiet and wait. Easy work. No talent or serious effort required.

  Crappy said, “We won’t miss him. The market’s right across from the storage place. You
saw it.”

  “What if he sees us?” Denny asked.

  “In this car? It ain’t ours.”

  Denny nodded. That was true. The coyote would not recognize the borrowed Ford. And now that he thought about it, he was getting a little bit hungry himself. A bag of chips would be good. Maybe a candy bar. Something.

  “You can get in and out fast?” he asked.

  Crappy said, “Sure. I ain’t afraid.”

  “What if your buddy is there? The DEA athlete.”

  “Why would he be?”

  “I don’t know. Bad luck.”

  “I can whack him.”

  “It’s risky with that cop around,” Denny said. “He’ll be pissed if he sees us driving around again. I don’t feel like going to jail tonight.”

  Crappy said, “Maybe the coyote’s taking so long because that cop already busted him. Maybe the cop’s too distracted with the coyote to care about us going to the market.”

  Denny smiled. He liked the sound of that.

  ***

  Ryan circled all the way around through a neighboring town and came back into Fall River, moving north to south. The radio was cranked as he crossed the northern town line. Bonnie Tyler was singing her heart out. Total Eclipse of the Heart. The long version, not the short radio edit. Ryan started out only singing along with the Meat Loaf parts, but by halfway through the song he was totally caught up in the drama, singing every line right along with Bonnie.

  The town hall was all dark. No more spaghetti. He passed by and went on through the center of town, past home, and took a right on School Street, then hit the brakes and stopped fast.

  There was a cruiser.

  Chuck’s cruiser. Its parking lights were on, making a dull dome of light way up in the tunnel of darkness ahead. Apparently Chuck had found the guy with the tattoos and the brain damage.

  Ryan sat there. Thought for a moment. Then he hit the gas and went ahead and buzzed the window down as he neared the cruiser. Bonnie was just getting to the end of the epic ballad, and Meat Loaf was doing his final part. Chuck had the guy in the back of the cruiser and he was out searching the ground with a flashlight when Ryan pulled up and helped Meat Loaf with the final turn arounds.

  Chuck did turn around. He ran the flashlight beam over his friend. Clicked the light off and returned it to his belt. Ryan turned the radio off.

  “Before I even ask about the car,” Chuck said. “How much grief is it going to cause me?”