by P G Loiselle
“Yep, my Sears special’s a goner too. I grabbed my other one and put it in the same trusty case.” We didn’t say anything more about it, but both knew the significance of that event.
As predicted, there were two sets of goons waiting to trail us. We took a right out of the parking lot, and they clung behind, leaving a small gap between the vehicles. Before we could pick up the pace, Dale’s clunker sped out of a nearby lot and squeezed between our car and Stone’s caravan. We heard honking, but there was no attempt to pass Dale. They must have figured that we couldn’t get away and that Dale was only an asshole driver, which he could be at times. We breezed down Mendon road for a couple miles undeterred. The left turn to the street on which Amy was waiting for us was approaching too soon for me. My freshly eaten breakfast had gathered at the bottom of my throat.
“What should we do?” I asked Stevie, thinking that he must have planned it out with Dale.
“Don’t know. Take a left, maybe?”
Although Stevie’s cluelessness didn’t give me much confidence, I did it anyway. The whole caravan followed like circus wagons. An outbreak of sweat gathered in the usual places, and I tensed, not ready for all that action. My heart galloped as we neared the pickup point, and I thought it’d leap out of my throat. We were leading them straight to Amy. I was ready to abandon the operation and glanced back again. The trio of cars were gone. We raced to the hiding spot and gave the sign. Amy scrambled out of the brush as Stevie threw open the back door, and she crawled in the space underneath the cases. The tires squealed as I stomped on the gas pedal, and we zoomed away.
“You ok, Amy?” I asked, still wired from the flood of adrenaline.
“Was bored out of my skull waiting, fell into a pricker bush, got burrs in my hair, and if you like being crammed under two guitars, like being buried alive in a coffin, yeah, I’m ok. But hey,” she said, sweetening her petulance tone. “I love you heroes for saving me.”
“Heroes, huh?” I said. “Let’s get you to shelter first and then you can call us heroes.”
If those guys caught us with Amy in the car, we’d be goners. And who knows where they were? I thought the best way to get us to the safe house was to circle back around via an adjacent road, glide by the entrance to the one-way street that we originally turned on and head to North Providence via Lincoln. I had no idea how Dale stalled them, but once those men made it to where we rendezvoused with Amy, they’d hopefully continue driving straight, thinking that we were up ahead.
As we passed the one-way street, it was blocked by a small parade of stopped cars, and entry was no longer possible. Behind us was the blare of sirens in the distance beating down on our position. Whatever Dale did, he obviously caused major havoc. I was only praying he was alright. Knowing Dale, his resourcefulness and grit would pull him through any situation, even if it did include a foursome of brainless thugs and a mild tempo car chase. We traversed a couple of roads, took a hard right, went past the old drive-in theater and entered Lonsdale, the village in Lincoln I was torn away from as a child. To avoid the main streets, I thought it best to pass through Lincoln Woods State Park.
“A dollar please,” the attendant said as we arrived at the park entrance.
“There you go,” I said friendly enough and looked straight into the attendant’s pupils. The guy eyed the contents of the car through the back-door window and refrained from questions. I eased away and carefully wound through the park’s lazy roadways, up and down hills and around the many hairpin curves that bordered the shoreline of Olney Pond.
“How much longer?” Amy asked, whining. “My neck’s getting stiffer than your peckers on the couch last night, all cuddled up with me.”
“Us? Stiffies? You wish,” I said.
“Who wishes?” Amy said, presuming that I wished for a lot of things.
“I wish,” Stevie said and giggled like a pervert.
“There you go again, boner boy,” I said. “Let’s just get there. You can choke your pole in Rocco’s john if you need to let off steam.”
“Be nice to Stevie,” Amy said, defending him. “I think it’s cute.”
“Wicked cute,” I said, aggravated at her cheekiness with Stevie. Actually, I was jealous, and annoyed at myself for being so. Amy would probably never be mine, but it didn’t stop me from feeling that way when she flirted with my best friend. For the sake of the mission, I blew it off and concentrated on driving.
The dense forest of semi-old growths and assorted flora that lined the roadway morphed into a large open space as we approached the main area of congregation in the park. There were kids and adults alike scaling boulders and moving about, in every direction. Games, such as Frisbee, horseshoes, or hacky sack were being played in groups of all sizes on countless fields. Olney Pond, the focal point of the park and magnet for Providences’ swimming poor even looked inviting, although I knew there was more piss in there than in the entire Cumberland sewer system.
We exited the park on the other side and were about to drive by the dog track on the final stretch towards our destination. My rearview mirror, however, revealed yet another ominous presence tailing us. I looked closer and saw those familiar goofy sunglasses perched on the front seat passenger’s odd-shaped head.
“Shit. It’s Stone, behind us. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” I was furious and panicking at the same time.
“Where are we?” Amy asked, snappy.
“About to go on the bridge over the 146.”
“Skip Rocco’s. Go on the highway to buy some time,” she said. “Stone can’t see I’m in here. He only wants to make your life miserable so you’ll buckle under the stress.”
“I’ll buckle him alright.”
A sense of awesomeness and indestructibility overcame me. I felt like a cartoon version of myself, about to go neck and neck with a comic book villain and was determined to lose him in my exhaust.
I swerved north onto the highway like we’d head to the Lincoln Mall. Stone’s vehicle repeated my move and snaked around the onramp, closing the gap, as if on rails, affixed by an elastic to our back bumper. The Grey Beast wasn’t a rocket but wasn’t a powder puff either. I floored it and accelerated to a decent pace. I weaved in and out of the two-lane freeway, overtaking any slow-moving cars that were impeding our flight. We reached a stretch of the road free from others, and I gunned it, attempting to complete our getaway. The only problem was, Stone was even faster, and his menacing black sedan eased up to our left. We whipped down the highway in what seemed to be the final showdown, and I felt that our chances to win were slim to grim.
“Luke, what the hell’s going on? I got to piss like a race horse, and the bumps suck for my bladder. Besides, the way you’re jerking the car around, you’re going to get us killed.”
“I’m trying to save us, not kill us. Hold tight. We’ll get out of this mess, somehow.” I was totally composed even though Amy was right. We might not make it out alive.
“Coming up to that car pretty quick,” Stevie warned, more animated than usual and braced himself against the glove compartment.
There was a beat up, red vehicle driving at a grandma pace. It’d be impossible to pass with Stone on the side of me. I braked hard without screeching, and Stone’s vehicle did the same. I jammed the gas pedal to the floor once again; my pursuer kept pace. To make it worse, after that braking action slowed us down, traffic behind us caught up. We were trapped, now sandwiched between the red jalopy and the impatient driver behind us. As I looked left at Stone’s vehicle, his tinted, driver side window descended, and I was face-to-face with his fat head, geeky shades, and barbing grimace. For a second, I imagined blood dripping from his canines. As if guided by angels, I redirected my attention forward, caught a glimpse of the old Sherman Ave. turnoff, which if you didn’t know existed would surely miss, applied just enough braking power so we wouldn’t skid out of control and hair-pinned off the freeway int
o that lost narrow lane, without getting rear-ended and barely averting a major crack up with a stoic hundred-year oak. With that traffic so close behind us, there was no way that Stone’s driver could have completed the same maneuver and by the time they doubled back, I figured we’d be long gone.
“The golf course,” I said, ignoring the pace of my heart. “I remember going there with my dad, and riding in his cart. It’s right down the road, kind of out of sight. We can hide out in the parking lot. It’s too dangerous to cruise around.”
However risky it was, we were running out of options, and it was the best plan we had. We needed to buy some more time to think things through. Still jumpy from the highspeed pursuit, I zipped along that country road, swerved into the course lot, nearly taking out a concrete post, found a shaded spot behind a green pickup truck and silenced the Beast. Within a twenty-hour span, we had multiple run ins with gangsters, including a mob boss, almost got nabbed with a million bucks, had been in several car chases, and were now stuck at a golf course with nowhere to go. It hit me all at once. I closed my eyes, slumped down in the seat and drifted away for a second or two, but it seemed like eons.
Two car doors closed out of sync behind us. Stone, I thought.
I squeezed my eyelids tight and waited for a quick slug to the brain.
“Tommy, Mike,” Stevie said. He tried to shout it, but his speech was wispy, like a thin veil of steam.
I looked in my side mirror. The sight of those two coming nearer brought on inner tears of relief. We jumped out of the old Chevy and received our saviors with gratitude. Amy squirmed out of her crawl space and jetted for the nearest place to squat before her dam burst.
“You alright?” Tommy asked.
“What in the world did you three do?” Piano Mike asked. “Those guys must mean business. We tried to keep up, but my friend’s old van is a snail. We saw you take that exit from far off and caught up enough to see you turn in here.”
“Crazy,” Stevie said, devoid of context.
“Tell you the details some other time,” I said. “How’d you know something was up? And where to find us?”
“Dale called,” Tommy said. “Didn’t say much, only that you’s guys were screwed. Had us wait on Pine Street, at about noon, and pull out in front of his shit-box when he drove by. Just cut him off, he said. Seemed idiotic but we did it, no questions asked. Looked like his car got rammed by the car behind him. He even got out and started a beef with the dudes.”
“We couldn’t stick around,” Mike said. “Had to catch up to you, follow undercover.”
“Hope he’s alright,” I said, almost to myself. “I didn’t even notice you were behind us,”
“That’s how we wanted it,” Mike said. “We weren’t sure what would happen and wanted to be ready for a surprise attack if necessary. Kind of scary.”
“Two more heroes,” Amy said, causing Mike to blush.
“Almost a perfect getaway” I said, again thinking out loud. “Where to now?”
“Good question,” Mike said. “They’re bound to track us down if we stay here.”
We all gaped at each other, drawing blanks.
“What about the cabin in the woods behind Lonsdale Elementary?” I said. “We used to go to keg parties there like every weekend. There are beds and everything.”
“And I’m supposed to shit in the woods and scrub my hoohoo with bark?” Amy said. “Good try. Let’s stick to civilization though.”
“Couldn’t your detective friend set you up with a hideout?” I said.
“Friend? I’ll gladly pay that slippery dick for the skinny on Stone, but I’m not about to trust him with my frickin’ life.”
“The warehouse,” Stevie said at once, looking over at Mike. “Your father’s crash pad.”
My ears perked up. “In the mills?”
“Wait a minute,” Mike said, thwarting the suggestion. “These guys mean business.”
“There’s a bathroom, and a kitchen,” Stevie said. “Oh, and a couch.”
I gave Mike the look. He couldn’t wussy out on us now.
“It’s dangerous,” he said.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Why not the police?” Mike asked.
“Impossible,” Amy said. “It’s a long story.”
“Well…,” he said, dithering.
“Well, what?” I asked. “Well water? She’s part of us, Mike. We’d help you no matter what.”
“Well…,” he said again, “my dad’s in Florida with his girlfriend. I guess we could use it for a little while, not forever.” He came off as though he had just sentenced himself to death.
“Oh, Michael,” Amy said. She neared him, ready to douse him with affection, and he backed away, doing some Jujitsu move with his hands.
“Alright then,” I said, taking the attention off Mike. “Let’s pile in the van. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
“And if Stone finds your car here?” Amy questioned. “Isn’t that suspicious?”
“Yeah, my car,” I said, mumbling, still shaken by the chase.
“I know this dude,” Tommy said. “Lives down the street. We could probably stash the car there.”
“Hold on,” Amy said. “So far, Stone doesn’t have anything on you, Luke. You either, Stevie. He’s only trying to scare you. Why don’t I go with Michael and Tom Boy, and you and Stevie go on the offensive? Go back home. Those butt-monkeys will probably be waiting for you. Tell them you want a meeting with Stone and Carney Monday morning, to help them get their money. But they need to cut the crap and leave you alone. Tell them you’ll only talk with Stone and Carney together. Period.”
“Alright,” Stevie said, looking like an eager pup.
“But I’ll take the guitar case.” She ripped open my car door and grabbed it. “You don’t want this thing anyway. Could buy you a pair of cement shoes if those imbeciles find it.” She gripped the money-filled, hardshell case with both hands, pulling it tight towards her body.
“Now hold on,” I said, regaining my bearings. “Let’s think about this first. Is this really the best plan?”
“You want all three of us to be on the run?” Amy said. “It’s bad enough I’m knee deep in this shit heap. Besides, I need you to help from the outside. I can stay out of sight, for as long as it takes, and they’ll get tired of following you for nothing.”
“As long as it takes?” Mike said, all whiny.
“What if they kidnap us and threaten to kill, or torture us?” I said.
“They won’t.”
“Why not?”
“They need you.” She pinched my left cheek. “You’ll think of something, smarty pants. You got us this far, didn’t you?”
“Smarty pants, huh?” I wasn’t as sure about it as she seemed but propped myself back up anyway. “Let’s just stay safe for now. You lay low, and I’ll get to you in a couple days.”
“I’ll come too,” Stevie said. His voice was several shades lighter than its usual velvety texture.
Amy gave us both a generous hug, and the three of them got in their vehicle and putted away. The van sounded as if only half the pistons were firing.
We took our positions in the Beast, and I looked at Stevie. “Ready to face the music?”
“Guess so.” He seemed brittle, all partied out.
It was a night and day to tell your grandkids about, and we were toast. The hormone induced fearlessness and push to survive was wearing off, and the aftershock slammed us both. It was a quiet ride, but my world was humming as if I were donning a space helmet. We arrived at Stevie’s and much to our surprise, there was no welcome party. Even his apartment seemed to be as he left it. We lingered in the doorway admiring each other.
“We were like Batman and Robin today,” I said.
He smiled, radiating a devilish sort of innocence. “I’m Batman
.”
“No, I’m Batman,” I said, as if it really mattered and reconsidered my position. “Know what, Stevie, you can be Batman. I’ll be Robin.”
He wound up his arm like a lame noodle and struck me in the shoulder with a love tap. “Bye Robin,” he said and closed the door.
I turned and left for home, alone and on empty.
The sereneness of my property was eerie. The late afternoon summer sun beamed its rays down on my neck as I faced my front door, wondering what evil forces or other surprises could be lurking beyond it. Key in, turn the lock, open the door, pick up the envelope on the ground, tear open and read:
‘Dear Mr. Moore.
Very impressive driving for an amateur, I must admit. So that you know, we combed the premises very thoroughly, and everything appears to be clean. Nevertheless, we urgently need to talk so that both of us can get a complete understanding of the situation. Mr. Moore, there are certain things that I know that you might not. And I ask no more of you than your complete cooperation. That’s all. I’m a business man, Mr. Moore and am only interested in doing business the good old fashion common sense way. Last night, you made an offer to meet with me and Carney to review the facts of the case. I would now like to take you up on your generous offer. I have arranged a nine o’clock meeting in his office on Monday, and I look forward to hearing your ideas and listening to your side of the story. There are
always two sides you know. One more thing, Mr. Moore. When somebody smiles at you, the proper response is to smile back.
Yours Sincerely.’
Monday, July 13, 1987
“Luke, come in and, uh, get comfortable.”
The master of deprecation, Carney, seemed skittish as he shepherded me into his office. He never called me Luke. I was always ‘Moore’ to him. His disheveled exterior must have been owed to the last sixty-something hours he spent racking his brain about where the million bucks could have vanished to. His bandaged ear stuck out of his head like Excalibur in a granite block.