“You’re crazy stealing from a man like McDonald. You had to know this was going to happen one day. Is this why you keep the trunk in Alice and Billy’s spare bedroom?”
“That’s right, my dear. We will pick up our belongings and head south,” Willy said.
“They will follow us, Willy. You can’t cheat a creep like McDonald and get away with it!” Bonnie stated emphatically.
Willy wrapped his big hand around her small delicate hand. Bonnie slid across the seat to sit next to him. “You happy with me?” Willy asked.
“I am,” Bonnie said. “I used to feel safe until a few minutes ago when I found out I’m about to be murdered by the mob!”
“Doll Face, I wish I hadn’t gotten you mixed up in this. Just let me worry about McDonald and his boys. I don’t want you worrying your pretty head about anything. As it stands now the climate in Chicago is way too hot for us,” Willy replied.
Snuggling close to him she responded, “I hope Smitty enjoys my fried chicken. I fried that chicken with momma’s recipe I mixed up just for you.”
“That could have turned out bad; Smitty and Val could have killed us while enjoying my favorite meal. I bet they are eating my chicken right now,” Willy said grinning.
“Don’t you ever take anything seriously?” she asked.
“Didn’t you just ask me that?” Willy asked.
A few blocks behind them the sound of cold brakes squealing, and slamming doors heralded the arrival of Smitty and Val at their apartment.
C7 - A Long Time Coming
Ralph Davis unlocked the bank door and stepped inside to adjust the window blinds against the rising sun. “Good morning, Mr. Davis,” each employee said as they filed in behind him.
“Good morning, everyone,” Ralph said. It was Monday and today he would start transferring the money from the deposit boxes to several secret accounts he had already created. By the end of the week it would be secure and invested. Ralph understood finance and was a master at all matters concerning money. The last thing he expected to see was several bank examiners and detectives show up at his office on this Monday morning.
“Ralph Davis, you might remember me from the last visit. To refresh your memory, I am Justin Peabody. These men work for the Internal Revenue Service.”
“Well, what is this visit all about?” Ralph asked.
Mr. Peabody continued, “As you know the bank robbery investigation has been ongoing for some time. These are Detectives Forrest and Holmes. They are from the Houston Police Department. They have uncovered a few leads that bring us back to your bank. The detectives have some questions, so I’ll turn these proceedings over to them.”
The detective named Holmes produced several documents that made the proceedings all legal and the worst Monday morning of Ralph Davis’s life began.
“Mr. Davis, in our investigation we found a small airfield not far from the Mexican border. It is used to fly people on small fishing trips and vacations into Mexico. The flights in and out of Mexico are mostly overlooked by the Mexican authorities. The flights usually take important Americans to Villas or vacation spots. The charter we are most interested in occurred the day of the bank robbery. It flew four Mexican nationals across the border into Texas. Later that day the charter shuttled the four of them back. We think these were the men who pulled the bank robbery,” Detective Holmes stated.
“I am with you so far,” Ralph said, his voice sounding surprisingly calm to himself.
“The charter was made three days before the bank robbery,” the detective said.
Detective Holmes continued, “Our informant in Mexico led us to believe the bank robbery here was somewhat different than what we normally expect to see. The Mexican nationals were paid to rob the bank. They carried no cash out of the bank. It was suspected by the informant that the money went into several safety deposit boxes. The money never left the bank. We fully intend to inspect suspicious boxes for that capital with your full cooperation. At this point we would suggest that you contact your lawyer.”
Ralph didn’t know if his heart would start beating again. He had totally exonerated Harlan Williams by removing him from the records. There were no records that Williams had ever been in the bank, no account records…nothing. To make matters worse Williams was dead. Ralph had convicted himself by tying his dead mother into the stolen money. Worst of all he had stacks and stacks of mob money in the locked cabinet behind his desk he had yet to deal with.
“Mr. Davis, we will start with your office. Open these cabinets for us,” Detective Forrest added.
Ralph sat down in his plush leather chair in a state of shock. For some odd reason, his mind drifted back over the years to a dusty drought covered farm. ‘Gretchen, if that boy don’t start respecting his betters he’s going to end up in prison!’ he muttered.
“Mr. Davis, did you say something?” ask Detective Forrest.
“I said, I want to see my lawyer,” Ralph said despondently.
C8 - End of The Good Life
Ed Weeks sat in his office watching the sun race across a cold winter sky. Harlan Williams was dead and as quickly as the flow of money had started it had dried up. He swirled the West Virginia whisky in his glass and looked at the drab, snow laden sky. What would he do now? He had gotten used to the big money and had spent himself into debt. Judd had simply disappeared. Ed’s life had begun to bottom out.
The weather had turned cold. Oh, how he hated to work on cars in cold weather. There was just not a warm place in this old barn; even his office was dark, cold and drafty. Building the fast cars had been a dose of medicine to his wretched soul. ‘Why didn’t I put money away for a rainy day like Thomas?’ Winters were dreary enough with the gloomy skies and bone chilling cold. This was shaping up to be the worst winter he had ever had. Without Thomas coming around Ed had no friends. His hands shook violently. The silence and loneliness were overwhelming. Putting his hands under his armpits he rocked back and forth in despair.
Thomas Taylor fared no better. He believed he had money he would never live to spend. One of the last things Judd had privately discussed with Thomas was the fact that the mob had a contract on the Shine Ghost. It was a certainty that it would sooner or later lead to him. With that information Thomas had dropped out of sight. Thomas avoided Huntsville and was working in a small sawmill out by the river. The miserable torment in his soul was never far from his mind. The old Sunday school teacher had told him right, ‘Sin kills. It will destroy every soul it controls and the only thing it will leave in its wake is bitterness and grief.’ How true that had become for Thomas. He wanted death to take him. ‘So why not seek out the hit men and let them put him out of his misery?’ His grief switched to Granny…she would surely find out. What if she knew what he was really like? The boy she had devoted her life to was the infamous Shine Ghost, had witnessed the killing of a ranger, two mobsters, and yes, he knew about the shine runner Seals who was knifed in New Orleans. Paranoia had set in and he had become sullen and withdrawn. How could this ever be made right? Sitting on a log by his campfire he shook his head trying to clear the hurt. Tears ran down his face and he threw the half empty beer bottle into the river. ‘I must go home to face Granny, but not now. I would breakdown and she would get it all out of me.’
C9 - Running Scared
Atired Willy Baker rubbed his eyes as he drove the ivy green Buick down the streets of Huntsville, Texas, in the early hours of the morning. Sleeping soundly, Bonnie laid across the front seat covered with a blanket. Her head propped against Willy’s leg was the only thing not covered. He ran his hand through the tangle of thick black hair and smiled. He always got a kick out of Bonnie trying to brush the tangles out of her hair. Yawning and stretching his back, Willy looked about as he drove around the town square. ‘Nothing has changed since I was here last. Except this thick blanket of snow covering the ground.’
Snow was not a common occurrence in this part of Texas and created a hardship even though it was a treat for the loc
al children. Icicles hung from every roof and white powder covered the town like a sheet. Above the local diner, rooms could be rented, and Willy pulled the big car in the parking lot behind. It only took a few minutes to get a room and move the grumpy but sleepy Bonnie up to a cold room. Quickly he lit a small heater while she removed her coat and shoes and crawled between the covers with all her clothes on.
“Don’t you want to undress?” Willy asked.
“You’re kidding! I’m freezing to death! Just cut the light off and let me get to sleep,” she grumbled. Willy chuckled and propped a chair under the doorknob before he cut off the lamp. Sitting at the table he emptied his pockets laying his watch and wallet on the table. Putting his cold hands in his pockets he considered their situation and how his plans had changed. Leaving his coat on until the room warmed, he removed a pistol and laid it in easy reach. The chair was comfortable, and he relaxed for a moment while looking out across the snow-covered lot where his car was parked.
His mind went back over the years of incarceration down the street. There were no good memories of his life here and sighing deeply he removed his boots. The room started to warm, and he dozed off in the chair. Sometime later, someone coughed below his window causing him to jerk awake. Quickly he eased the gun from the table… ‘this is how it would be until he set things straight. He must never let his guard down…not for even a moment...knowing the type of men McDonald would be sending after him.’ Looking at the bundle laying in the bed, he shook his head and thought, ‘I should have never gotten her mixed up in this.’
Moving the curtain to the side, he saw a tall man standing below his window stomping about nervously trying to get the chill from his bones. It wasn’t long until the crunch of snow on the frozen ground signaled the arrival of a second man. The second man was big like Smitty, but how could the mob have possibly tracked him so quickly? Willy eased the window up a couple of inches, so he could make out the voices from below. The crack quickly sapped what little heat was in the room.
“Close that window, Willy! The room will never get warm,” Bonnie snapped.
“There are men out there! Be quiet a minute while I hear what’s going on,” Willy said.
Below his window the muffled whispers and slurred speech was barely audible. The tall man said, “What kept you? I can’t stand out here and freeze while you make up your mind!” In the moonlight, the glint of liquor in a bottle being passed to the shorter man arriving caught Willy’s attention.
“I don’t want a drink this time of the morning. Don’t you ever get enough of that stuff?” the shorter man asked.
“You can’t get enough of this. It’s the best West Virginia shine made!” the taller man stated.
The shorter of the two paced back and forth jamming his hands deep in his jacket pocket and stomping his cold feet. He said, “It’s too cold to be out here! We’re a couple of fools!”
“If we weren’t fools, we wouldn’t be considering this at all! We need to move fast before the sheriff makes his rounds,” the taller man responded.
“Forget the sheriff! It’s too cold for him to be out on the street; besides, the store is not even open yet,” the shorter man exclaimed.
“Well, it won’t be long until he opens up. You can set your watch by that old storekeeper,” the taller man said.
Above the alley Willy watched the shadowy figures in the moonlight. Hearing the bed squeak, he turned to see Bonnie’s dark eyes watching him. Looking down at the gun he held, he quickly laid it down on the table and spoke to her in a soft whisper saying, “There are men in the dark below; it’s too dark to see their faces.”
“You think it’s Smitty and his friends?” she whispered.
“I can’t believe they could find us this quick. It must be locals. They are up to something,” Willy said.
“You sure it’s not some of McDonald’s men?” Bonnie questioned.
“Relax, Bonnie! There is no way they can find us…at least not this quick,” Willy replied.
“Is this the way it’s going to be for us, jumping every time we hear a voice and watching everyone we pass on the street?” Bonnie inquired.
Willy didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said quietly, “Go to sleep, Doll Face. I will join you in a few minutes.”
Pulling the quilt tightly around her, Bonnie said, “I bet they are McDonald’s men. I told you, we couldn’t get away; we will be killed in our sleep.”
“Would you be quiet and go to sleep. It’s locals I tell you!” Willie said sharply.
Bonnie snuggled low in the bedding; her raving black hair the only thing visible above the covers. Frowning, Willy stood in the dark room watching the men below. Above them a moon lit sky illuminated the snow-covered ground. Memories of bygone years in Huntsville and the reason he had been incarcerated flooded his mind.
The bed squeaked as Bonnie changed positions, pulling the heavy quilts tightly about her body. Cuddled tightly in a ball, she waited for the spot she occupied to warm. Weary from the hard drive from Chicago her eyes followed Willy’s tall figure as he moved about the room like a caged animal. Willy was good to her and treated her with kindness. She had given up on a marriage proposal. She needed to be more independent, but she had no education and nowhere else she could go.
Living a day to day existence, the two had stayed together not making any commitments. Bonnie had made life hard on herself and now she cautiously guarded her heart. In the past, admissions of love meant commitment and somehow that always ended her romantic ideals with a sudden finality. Like Willy, she had compartmentalized her feelings and guarded her emotions. After giving up on girlish dreams, harsh reality had set in. Months had turned into years and family ties were forgotten. She tried not to look back on the life she had left behind.
The carefree teenage years were gone. No senior prom. No dances. No growing up with friends that she had wanted to establish lifelong relationships with. Bonnie’s open rebellion of authority had led her to this point in her life. She had seen and done far too much for a girl her age.
The bleak winter months always brought back memories of her childhood. Bonnie moved her legs under the covers trying to warm up the spot where she lay. This cold room reminded her of the cold mornings on the farm when she had cuddled low on top of the warm feather mattress not wanting to get up. Her eyes closed, and she dreamed, ‘Bonnie, hurry and get dressed! You will be late for school. Your breakfast is getting cold!’ Her mother’s voice awakened her, and her eyes popped open. She lay staring into the dark cold room. Memories always made her feel empty and alone. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply remembering the scent of her mother’s perfume. The tenderness that only a mother can give flooded her mind. These memories reminded her of all she had missed. They brought a longing deep down in her heart knowing a mother’s love was needed in every stage of a girl’s life.
Peering from under the covers her brown eyes followed the man she was sharing her life with. Willy paced back and forth across the room rubbing his temples; his breath a cold vapor in the darkness. Headaches and black moods frequently came over him and his handsome face became fierce and cold. Those moments always scared her. ‘What had he done to cause the dark moods that haunted him? What could turn a man with such a tender heart so drastically?’
Bonnie had become accustomed to unscrupulous men. Her life was not an easy life and the path she had chosen had taken a dangerous turn with her latest association with Willy Baker. She realized he was only one side-step from sliding into the dark abyss.
C10 - A Cold Bleak Morning
Grady O’Hara always opened before dawn. He was an early riser and years of operating the diner and candy store had made him a creature of habit. Every morning he opened at the same time and prepared for business in the same way. Even though there would be no customers this early, Grady was open, and coffee would be ready when people began to pass along the street.
O’Hara’s was a gathering place for the local merchants with stores around the t
own square. Business, politics and coffee started their day. It housed the only drug and candy store in the small town of Huntsville. The town sported a farmer’s market, prison and college. The college attracted young people from all over the state. Unfortunately, so did the prison.
Across the square from the O’Hara’s candy store, Willy Baker rubbed his throbbing temples. Exhausted from the long drive he sat in the darkness hoping the dull feeling in the front of his head would go away. Voices below his room brought Willy back to the window. Moving the curtain, he watched and listened as the voices of the men below drifted up to him through the cold morning air.
“The safe is usually opened and the old man is in the front of the store. I went in the back door the other day delivering ice, that’s how I came up with this plan. It won’t take more than a minute to walk in the back and over to the safe.” The shorter man took another drag from the pint bottle and shuttered as the strong liquor made its way burning through his system.
“What makes you think he will have the safe open this early?” the taller man asked.
“It has been open every time I delivered ice this past year. If it’s not…you can just turn around and walk back out the door,” the shorter man said.
“Did it ever occur to you that he would remember that the only man that goes back there this early is you…the-ice-man?” the taller man asked.
“You don’t think I’m smart enough to figure that out, do you, Big Man? Well, I quit the ice delivery job last week and now a black boy is doing the delivering,” the shorter man chuckled.
Sliding the half pint back in his hip pocket the taller man said, "Let's get going, It will be light soon. You go around back. I will watch the old man through the front window. When the old man is in the front of the store, I will light a cigarette; that’s your signal to go in. We got to hurry before the ice man comes.”
Doing Time In Texas, Book 2 Page 4
