by Mike Faricy
It was probably overkill, but then again with Tubby Gustafson I wasn’t going to take any chances. It would be just like him to have access to a fingerprint data base or some form of DNA testing. I could only hope the currency band would get him thinking back to the half million dollars someone stole from him.
There’s an old adage that says something like ‘the best place to hide an item is out in the open.’ Yeah maybe, but I didn’t think that applied to cold cash. I drove over to the wine store by my house, a place called Solo Vino. Its run by a guy named Chuck. As I walked in the door he looked up from behind the counter.
“I know, you want something with a nice bouquet that will make them lose all self control after just a couple of sips. Oh, and you want it for under five dollars.”
“If you had something like that I’d buy a case. Actually, I was wondering if I could grab a box from you. I’m just packing up a couple of things.”
“Help yourself,” he said and sort of nodded toward the back cooler where a stack of empty boxes stood.
I waved thanks on my way out and Chuck nodded then went back to ringing up someone’s purchase. I checked both sides of the street then opened the trunk and stuffed the nylon bag in the wine box. I had to reposition some bundles inside the bag, but after some fooling around it fit. I closed the trunk and drove over to my local bank.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I rented the largest safety deposit box they had, one-hundred-and-twenty-five bucks for a year. The manager used two small keys to unlock the metal box in the vault. Then she pulled it out and I followed her into a small private cubicle with a door.
“You can just come and get me when you’re finished in here and we’ll put that back in the vault,” she said then glanced at my box touting ‘California’s Best Wine.’
“Just some old prayer books of my mom’s, I keep them for sentimental reasons,” I said.
She nodded as if somehow this made perfect sense then closed the door behind her.
I checked the ceiling for cameras and didn’t see any. I opened the box, pulled the nylon bag out, unzipped the thing and began stacking bundles of cash in the safety deposit box. I was afraid there wouldn’t be enough room, but in the end it all fit. I stuffed the loose bundle of bills I’d removed the band from into my front pocket, and then got the manager to return the box to the vault.
“Wow, a lot of prayer books,” she said as she hefted the box back into its space in the vault.
“Yeah, she was very religious, went to church all the time.” I smiled.
I felt a lot more relaxed after I left the bank. I drove over to Casey’s house and parked in the garage. Two of the contractors were sitting at the kitchen counter looking at a couple of color swatches when I came in.
“Oh, just in time,” one of them said. “We’re going to be painting on the first floor starting tomorrow. You don’t happen to know which colors go where, do you? She told us, but we must have tossed the note,” he said then pushed three swatches toward me. One of them was a gray the color of concrete and the other two were similar, but different sort of blues.
It seemed pretty obvious. “This one should be the dining room, this one would look good in the den and then this concrete looking stuff is probably the front room.”
“We just put them on the wall and never comment,” the other guy said then they both laughed.
I chatted with them for a while. They mentioned they were on schedule and would probably wrap the job up in the next week.
“This is where that guy was killed, right?”
“Yeah, he was a pal of mine, both he and his wife, actually.”
“They ever get the guy that shot him?”
“Nope, as far as I know the cops got no idea who it was, or even why for that matter.”
“What a shame,” one of them said and just shook his head.
“Yeah, everyone loved the guy, just a real nice guy and some jerk does that. It doesn’t make any sense,” I said.
“There are some folks walking around, that there’s really only one way to deal with them. You’re not going to rehabilitate them or save their soul. They’re the dregs of society.”
“Seems to be a lot of that going around,” I said.
They nodded and left after a few more minutes. I grabbed a beer and settled in for a quiet night. I was coming out of the shower the next morning and they were already spreading drop cloths getting ready to paint.
As I left, one of them called, “Thanks for your help on where these colors go.”
“Glad I could be of service,” I said and headed out the door.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I had just parked in front of my office building when a large black pickup truck came out of nowhere and pulled in directly behind me. Fat Freddy climbed out and walked toward the door of my car. He had on a flowered Hawaiian print shirt featuring a sky blue background with large red flowers. As he walked, he gobbled one of the half dozen or so cookies he held in his hand. If I had to guess I’d say they were chocolate chip. His nose was still black-and-blue although the swelling looked to be all but gone. I locked the door then lowered the window slightly as he approached.
“Hey, how’s it going, man?”
“Fine, Freddy just fine. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you might be able to help me out, give me some advice.”
“I can give you some advice, but I can’t promise it will be any good.”
“Maybe hop in my truck and we can talk.”
“Your truck? You know I got a call from the police regarding your truck and the little batting lesson you gave your friend Dallas the other night. They wondered if I knew anything. I think they got a report from one of the neighbors.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“Its never been very difficult for me to play dumb, Freddy, but maybe next time, promise you’ll just leave me completely out of it.”
“Come on back and check this ride out, it’s really cool.”
“Thanks, but no thanks, Freddy. I’ve got one of those busy days ahead of me and I’d better get cracking.”
“Come on back,” he said. He gave a quick glance up and down the street then lifted the Hawaiian print shirt and rested his hand on a rather large pistol wedged against his massive stomach.
“You present a persuasive argument.” I smiled and climbed out from behind the wheel.
“I knew you’d see things my way, Dev, but just for the sake of pleasant conversation maybe turn around and let me check you, make sure you’re not carrying.”
“I can tell you, I’m not,” I said and smiled my most charming smile.
“Turn around anyway and let’s be sure,” he said then started to pat me down. His third or fourth pat found the .38 in my front pocket. He pulled it out and looked from me to the gun then back to me.
“Dev, you weren’t lying to me, were you?”
“Gee. I guess I just forgot that one.”
“Are there any others?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Tell you what, you drive, and I’ll ride. That way I can talk and you can listen.”
“How could I refuse?”
“Actually, you really can’t,” Freddy said then he handed me the set of keys he’d torn from Dallas’s pocket the other night.
I climbed up into the driver’s seat. Freddy stretched out in the passenger seat and faced me with a pistol resting on his lap.
“Where to?” I said as I pulled away from the curb.
“We’re gonna watch Bulldog while he makes his collections this morning.”
“Bulldog? I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Freddy.”
“Oh yeah, and why is that?”
“There was an incident yesterday morning.”
“Yesterday morning?”
“Yeah, about four in the morning. Bulldog and two guys I recognized as bouncers at Nasty’s paid me a visit. Only it
didn’t work out like they’d planned,” I said then proceeded to fill in some of the details. I didn’t mention the money or mailing one of the bands to Tubby Gustafson.
“That dude you shot is one mean hombre,” Freddy said.
“Well, he’s gonna have some time rolling around in a wheel chair to think about improving his attitude.”
“Take a left at the light down here and head over to the East side. That means Bulldog is down to just one guy helping him, Les Hudson, Lester the Molester.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s another one of those guys that sucked up to Bulldog, one of the assholes that beat the shit out of me. He had a thing for all the girls at Nasty’s and just about all of them wanted nothing to do with him.”
“He’s that bad?”
Freddy shot me a look. “Didn’t you hear? Dude, they call the guy Lester the Molester. The only one who’d have anything to do with him was that old bitch, Cougar, but she was on the weird side anyway, fried when she wasn’t just drunk or high.”
I nodded, and didn’t see any benefit to mentioning the fact I knew her well before she was Cougar.
“Take a left here down Payne Ave.,” Freddy said then glanced at the clock on the dash. “Bulldog should be hitting a couple of those fingernail joints right about now. See that Super America up there on the right, about three doors past that just pull in anywhere and we can wait.”
I passed the Super America then pulled into the first spot I saw. We were just a few doors away from the nail place. A couple of minutes after I parked two Asian women walked past and entered, I guessed they worked there. About ten minutes after that a long, green Jaguar pulled into a parking place a couple of car lengths ahead of us. The engine remained running as Bulldog stepped out on the passenger side. He briefly glanced up and down the street then walked into the nail place. The moment Bulldog stepped inside Freddy was out of the pickup and waddled quickly toward the Jaguar.
He pulled the gun out of his belt just as he opened the passenger door. The Jaguar tipped heavily to the right as he slid in.
I was thinking about just driving away when he was back out of the Jaguar, it looked like he stopped to pick something up then ran back to the pickup. I had the engine started by the time he opened the door and I was pulling away from the curb just as Bulldog stepped out of the shop and we raced past. Freddy gave a little wave, but I wasn’t sure Bulldog saw him then he tossed what looked like a brown paper lunch bag on the seat between us.
“What the hell are you doing, are you crazy? Shit, they’ll be right on our ass,” I said and checked the side view mirror to see if the Jaguar was after us yet.
“Quit worrying, I slit their tire on the way back, they ain’t going anywhere,” he said and laughed.
“But they saw you, I mean that Lester guy he knows it’s you. He’ll tell Bulldog and I’m not sure I really needed this, Freddy. I got enough problems with Bulldog already. I told you they said they were looking for you the other night.”
He opened the brown paper bag. It looked like one of the lunch bags I used to take to school as a kid. He pulled out a stack of bills and started counting, after a bit he said, “Eleven hundred bucks, Dev.”
“I don’t want anything to do with that shit. It’s not worth it. Bulldog and Tubby are going to hunt you down, Freddy. That’s barely enough for a one way ticket out of town and if I were you I’d be heading out in the next few minutes.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dev. I’m not gonna keep this money. I’m gonna turn it over to its rightful owner.”
“That’s really noble, Freddy, but just a little misguided. Great to give it back to those hardworking folks, but Bulldog will just be back next week for more, and then the week after that. Only next time he won’t be so easy to rip off. Oh, and just in case you’re not aware, he’s gonna come looking for you and he won’t be very happy.”
“I’m counting on that, Dev. Believe me. As for giving it back to those folks, what the hell are you talking about?”
“You said you were going to turn it over to its rightful owner.”
“Yeah, Tubby.”
“Tubby?”
“Get this, I have it on pretty good authority Tubby doesn’t have a clue about Bulldog’s little protection racket. He is gonna freak, man. Take a right here at this next corner.”
“Where are we going?”
“Nasty’s, Tubby has a lunch meeting with Jackie Van Dorn every Thursday.”
Chapter Forty
“No offense, but Nasty’s is the last place I’m going to,” I said then made the right hand turn and checked the mirror just to make sure no one was following.
“Oh, come on, Dev, where’s your sense of adventure. No guts, no glory, man.”
“I’m on borrowed time as far as taking risks, Freddy and I certainly don’t feel the need to cut to my final chapter by getting involved with Jackie Van Dorn, or worse Tubby Gustafson.
“Dev, I’m bringing over eleven hundred bucks to Tubby as proof Bulldog is ripping him off. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you can’t trust any of them. Tubby’s liable to take the money and turn you over to Bulldog just for something to watch. You can’t get on his good side, because the man doesn’t have one.”
“Okay, suit yourself. I’m giving you the perfect opportunity to get in on the glory, but if you don’t want any, who am I to tell you that you’re an absolute dumb shit.”
“Just leave me out of it.”
“Consider it done, Dev. Oh, turn in here and you can drop me off at the dumpsters in back.”
“God, I don’t want to even be here.”
“Will you relax, what can happen?”
I pulled into Nasty’s parking lot then drove around the building to the back and dropped Freddy off next to the dumpster’s. They didn’t smell any better than the last time I was back here. I watched him press the buzzer then look up into the security camera and talk, although I couldn’t hear what was being said. A moment later he opened the door and stepped inside. That was good enough for me and I started to back out just as some sort of car painted flat black backed into the lane and parked there, effectively blocking me in.
I gave a couple of polite beeps on the horn, suggesting the guy take his head out of his ass. That got him to step out of his car, come around to the side of his car closest to me then just lean back against the passenger door, fold his arms and look bored.
I beeped again and he just shook his head and remained looking awfully bored.
I was effectively trapped. I climbed out of the truck and walked toward the guy. He nodded at me as I approached.
“You got me blocked in and I was just leaving.”
“Not really,” he said. “Yeah, I got you blocked in, but apparently they’d like you to hang around for a few minutes. Might as well climb back into your truck and just wait. How you liking that ride anyway? I think Dallas has one just like that.”
“He didn’t seem to be kidding and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. It’s okay, nice ride, bit of a gas-hog though.”
He nodded then sort of looked bored and gazed across the parking lot toward the street. I climbed back in the truck. Fat Freddy came out about fifteen minutes later. As he climbed in the cab I noticed a reddish ring covering his upper lip, a wine stain.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Piece of cake, man. You should have come with.”
“I had my own meeting,” I said and jerked a thumb out the back window to where the flat black car had been parked just a moment ago. Fat Freddy turned and looked out the back window then looked at me like I was nuts.
“There was some guy back there blocking me in. Said he got word I was supposed to wait, I don’t know where he went.”
“Well, he’s not blocking you now so let’s get going.”
I backed out from the dumpsters, then made my way out of Nasty’s lot as quickly as possible. “Did you get to see him, Tubby?”
>
“Yeah, nice guy. I’d seen him before, but never got to really talk to the man. He was nice, thanked me for the nine-hundred bucks and said he’d have a little talk with Bulldog.”
“Wait a minute, nine hundred bucks? I thought you counted out over eleven hundred thirty minutes ago.”
“Dev, it’s how the big guys do it. Everyone takes a percentage. Let me tell you something, you know what those guys were doing before I went up to Van Dorn’s office? I’ll tell you, they were counting cash. They hid the stuff before I came in, but I saw the band that had wrapped it up, five grand worth. Can you believe it? Five grand they’re counting out over lunch, that’s how the big guys do it, Dev. What? You never watched the Soprano’s?”
“This isn’t some stupid ass TV show, Freddy. God, five grand? Was it a paper band and five grand was written in pencil with a date and maybe some initials?”
“How’d you know that?”
“I don’t believe it. And you think Tubby’s going to talk to Bulldog? Well, you’re probably right. That’s just perfect. I don’t see any problem there except that Bulldog will know you and probably me as well, were involved in your stupid little robbery. After he gets done denying everything he’s going to come after the both of us.”
“Oh yeah, well he’s not going to find me. I’ll be like a ghost, man. Yeah, you know maybe that’s it, a new sort of persona, my new brand. They’ll call me The Phantom or Mr. Mysterious, get it?”
“No, Freddy, I don’t get it. I do know you just paid Tubby nine hundred bucks. Bulldog will deny everything and convince Tubby you’re the liar. What about me, Freddy? You think I want that psychotic nut job Bulldog looking for me, where the hell am I going to go?”
