Blind Luck

by Reggie Stanford

  “I’m guessing she wasn’t inquiring about your girlfriend. Her proposal was less romantic wasn’t it?” I joked, trying to lighten his mood. He knit his eyebrows, not appreciating the brilliance of my joke, so I returned my gaze to the road.

  “No. She said she wanted to meet. She said she made some big plans that involved me. She said she needed me, and that we can get rich together.”

  He finished, and looked at me finally. I tried to smile a comforting smile and gestured for him to go on with my right hand.

  “I came back to the big city, and we met like she wanted to. She told me she met some rich dude. They had gotten married. Talisha told me the plan: we kill the rich one, split what he put in his will, and pin the tail on the donkey.” He said, looking right at me. I felt his gaze burning a hold into the corner of my eye.

  “But you already figured that bit out, didn’t you?”

  That made my blood run cold.

  “So if I was in prison, as you had intended it to be, you would have still been playing bowling with a couple of twenties in your pocket?” I asked, lashing out.

  “We’re just waiting for the heat to die down. It would be pretty dumb, if we just hopped on a plane together, and made plans to go anywhere. The authorities would then have a reason to investigate us, and that would be too risky.” He claimed, trying to justify his dreamgirl bailing on him.

  I could hear the pain in his voice, that he felt something was wrong too, so I pressed on.

  “Yeah, if you say so bud. And so why Vegas? Not enough men for her in Brooklyn?” I asked.

  “She has a friend there.” He said, dodging my verbal jab.

  “And why didn’t she take you with her then? Your name wasn’t on the case; apparently you had nothing to do with it. They had no reason to make you a suspect.”

  “We just didn’t want to be seen together. That’s all. It’s safer this way. She is playing the role of a widow in mourning. I carry on with my routine as if nothing had ever happened.”

  His eyes wandered out over the horizon to the left of the car. The sun was getting close to setting by now, so it was dark enough to look at without any permanent damage. He had given me all I needed, and moved in for the kill.

  “Listen up, bucko. She pulled your down this slippery slope too. She has no intention to go ‘halfsies’ with you and her gains. She’s probably got the money bet on a 34 in roulette, or letting it trickle down a stupid slot machine. You can’t seriously be this dense! You had to have realized by now that she is sick. Either you’re too stupid to have noticed it, or too in love, but you don’t have to defend her anymore.” I told him up front.

  “Shut up. You fucking smart ass. Don’t tell me what to do. She fooled you too, and I’m not the one with a murder on my hands now, so who’s got the shorter end of this stick, amigo? You fell for her short dresses and long black boots. She led you on a leash from the start.”

  Everything he said was true, I had fallen for her far too hard. I ate up her lies, and fell for her trick. But I wasn’t about to let him win. I was reveling in how riled up I had got him. He didn’t seem like someone who swore a lot. He practically flinched when he called me a ‘fucking smartass’ so I was enjoying this far more than he had wanted me to.

  “Well at least I can admit that I fell for her, and that she’s still nuts. You still protect her, like she was some cracked beloved toy. Here, I’ll say it out loud for you. I stuck my dick in Crazy, are you happy now?”

  And that shut him up all too well. I figured she wouldn’t have included that bit, where she invited me over for champagne so I hoped my words stung like acid. He turned back to face the window and went silent. I could imagine silent tears rolling down his cheeks right now as he struggled not to cry. I couldn’t feel bad for him. The motherfucker tried to put me in jail so he could spend the rest of his days living luxuriously.

  I returned my full attention to the road, and began taking in the surroundings. It was endless desert everywhere. Nothing but sand dunes, rocks, no shade or clouds, in every direction. Just endless drought. I had just occurred to me that we hadn’t even encountered another car in what had seemed to be hours. It almost felt like we were the last two people on this planet. The idea disgusted me. To be stuck on a planet with a piece of shit like this? No thank you. I’d rather strangle the fucker and claim it for myself. I entertained the thought for a little longer, until Gary spoke up again.

  “She became an addict.” He said with a sigh. “A gambling addict. She claimed she wanted to perfect her little tricks. The tables knew she was cheating and kicked her out, and then she would go to a new place. Again, and again. She couldn’t stop herself anymore. Her motivation wasn’t practicing like it had been in the beginning. “

  “What about her rich husband? Didn’t he have enough to keep her happy?”

  “Patrick? Yeah he had money. For a while. He got tired of it after a while though. I can’t blame him. Paying off those massive debts one after the other was all Talisha needed him for. Early in the morning he would be off with a wad of cash, and a handful of apologies that were supposed to come from his wife. I don’t know if I could have done what he did.”

  “Why didn’t he get a divorce?”

  “They had a marriage contract. If they were to get a divorce then Talisha doesn’t get anything. If Patrick dies, then Talisha gets half of all of his property. Kinda feel bad for the guy; I really think he could have seen this coming. He would still be alive today.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like Talisha is a life insurance policy herself...”

  We kept on driving. Long miles passed, one after the other, silently. We took the ramp onto the I-15 and continued on with the seemingly never ending journey. About two hours later, we were speeding along the side of the Grand Canyon. Eroded by water and wind over the years, the gorgeous split rock was a delightful change of pace. The patterns formed in the side of the red rock were endless; jagged, striped, wavy, crooked. It was a mosaic painted by Mother Nature herself. I could understand why it’s considered one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. It almost made it worth coming all the way out here, even if we don’t make it to Vegas.

  * * * * *

  The central distress center got the call at 4:42 from the Motel 70 from Gypsum. Just a minute later, the report had been prepared and given to the local Sheriff, and within two minutes, New York was alerted of the situation as well. Special agent Jim Sorrenson was at his desk, with his feet up on the table eating a box of takeout stir fry, when Agent Lacroix burst through the door.

  “They found Roy James. He’s in Colorado. We just got this information from the local police.”

  Now, Special agent Sorrenson had seen a lot in his time, and wasn’t surprised easily, but this caught him off guard. They hadn’t heard anything about the case ever since they had taken it from Lieutenant Baker. He hadn’t even hoped to get much further with it, let alone find the guy. James never showed up in his office or his home. Sorrenson was giving the men put on watch duty till the end of the week to report anything new and then pulling them back since they weren’t getting anywhere.

  “The technician is preparing a layout in the briefing room.”

  “Get the locals out of there. This is my case, and I don’t want them mucking things up.”

  The technician was waiting in the briefing room for Sorrenson. He was a thin, male with ivory glasses who had recently finished college. He and Sorrenson took a seat across from each other. Agent Susan Miller joined them, Sorrenson’s partner. She was average height, with dirty blonde hair and just into her thirties. Her two front teeth were a little crooked but it only made her cuter. Her green eyes were filled with electricity, even when it was time to clock out. The technician was changing some settings on the hi-fi, then exchanged a glance with the two men by the door. They nodded in response and closed the door. The sound of static struck their ears as the audio file began to play, and soon enough they could he
ar the voices of a caller and the dispatch center.

 

  Hello, 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?

  Sorrenson was thinking about how many times per day the dispatch center has to make these calls. How often they pick up the phone and ask for all the personal information that they already see on their screens. Hundreds? Thousands? Is it as stressful for them not knowing what happens next after they send out fire fighters or ambulance, or can they rest easy knowing they did their best and that all they could do?

 

  Uh, Hi. Hello. I had an encounter with the murderer from the TV show today. He has his partner with him. They stopped here this morning. His name is Roy James. I’m from Gypsum. Bye.

  The playback, stopped, and the agents took a deep breath sharing puzzled looks.

  “This whole thing is a mystery to me. What on earth is James doing in the desert?” asked Sorrenson.

  “And who is his partner?” inquired the third agent.

  “Lacroix!” called Sorrenson. “Call whoever gave us this information, and find out who reported it.”

  Sorrenson didn’t have to go back to his office, since three different lines were connected to the briefing room. While he was on the phone, the technician checked out to busy himself with some other task, closing the door quietly after himself. A couple minute later, Lacroix came in holding a piece of paper, and Sorrenson let himself get worked up a little bit. This was crucial to getting to the bottom of the case.

  “A certain Kevin Beaton reported encountering the pair. He’s a clerk at a local Motel 70, in Gypsum.”

  “All right. Let’s just summarize all that has happened then. We have a motel clerk who has reported seeing Roy James in the middle of nowhere. He was with someone else, a male, who will call his partner. This is all that’s certain. The rest is all just theories and ideas.”

  A couple seconds of silence passed Sorrenson’s face depicted he was deep in thought about something.

  “Susan, get the team together, and get a us a flight to Denver. We need to leave as soon as possible. Lacroix, you’re gonna stay here and be our anchor. I want you to find out who his partner might be. Look for any childhood friends, or anything in his history that might make sense here. If we learn anything new, we will contact each other and share the information as a soon as we can. We’re gonna catch this bastard.”

  CHAPTER 8

  As we got closer to the city, the scene changed. More and more billboards came up along the road, trying to give us fun or romantic ways to spend our next few nights. We passed by the famous red/white/blue neon Vegas sign. We went in circles for a little bit until we found a cheap old motel at the edge of the city. Just like the last one, it had a simple layout. Only one floor, rooms side by side. There was Mercedes Convertible in front of one of the rooms. They were the only guest at the moment. The prices for the rooms were listed on a big white sign by the parking lot entrance. They also advertised cable TV, an AC, a continental breakfast and accommodation for pets. It was one of those shitholes where you bring a prostitute for a good fuck then ditch in an hour or two.

  “Lucky you.” I said to Gary.

  “What?” he asked

  “We can bring pets inside. I won’t have to leave you locked in the car.” I said keeping a completely straight face.

  We parked in front of the entrance and went in. Once again, I went ahead and Gary followed close behind. The AC was humming loudly, but the room didn’t feel any cooler than the outside. There was a tired looking old man behind the reception. On top of showing my face on TV, they apparently also featured it in the papers now, and it’s only been a few days since my escape from the Brooklyn police. I would have to be super careful with where I step from now on. This would be a little easier with Gary by my side. It’s easier to blend in if you’re not alone. We approached the receptionist, who showed no sign of surprise or disbelief. I bet he would have worn the same look of boredom if Edward Scissorhands came in and asked for a warm glass of brake fluid. I paid for a night for two, and we went to our room. I was under a hot shower before unpacking. I just needed to wash the dirt and grime from our trip off as soon as possible.

  When I got out, Gary and I agreed on dinner since we were both hungry. There was a little diner a short walk away. Gary showed no signs of trying to escape or getting attention. He just walked beside me in calmly. In a strangers eyes, I couldn’t imagine them seeing anything weird. A pair of guys in Vegas, maybe catching up on the good old times maybe hitting up some casinos. But no one would expect one of us to be an escaped murderer who was using a weapon to keep the other under hand.

  We found and empty table and took a seat near the entrance. I sat so I could see both the main entrance the entire front of the diner through the window too.

  Gary pulled up a chair and sat down across from me. It seemed as if he had some time to think on the way here and that our little talks had gotten to him. He realized not that he too had been cheated. Of course, he had known it for a while, but even his emotions agreed now. He looked beaten, like he had given up. I figured i wouldn’t be only asking questions if we caught Talisha.

  A thin waitress approached our table. She looked like she’s in her twenties. She took our orders. We both got burgers, fries and onion rings with icy cokes. We ate silently, just enjoying being through with our ordeal of getting here.

  “Vegas is pretty big, and always full of life. I’m not quite sure how you imagine we’re going to find her.” He said, as soon as he finished his burger.

  “This money in my pocket is getting to me. I figured we could hit up a few Casinos, check them out.” I replied.

  “So you think that we can waltz into a Casino and we will find Talisha there waiting for us to take her home and give her a good scolding? Come on Roy.” He said, clearly not liking my idea.

  “You’re too pessimistic. That’s your problem, right there. Let loose man! The sooner we find her, the more of your money you can recover.” I said, and waved the waitress over.

  “I’ll have an apple pie, and him...” left the sentence hanging and pointed at Gary who shook his head, and held his stomach gesturing he was full. “... he will sit there and watch.” The waitress laughed and left to get me my pie. I ate it and left her a nice tip.

  As soon as we opened the diner’s door, the heat of the desert slapped us in the face. I swear, even the asphalt was sweating. It had to be at least 100 degrees Fahrenheit. We started back towards the hotel. Looking at Gary, he was still wearing that wrinkled bowling shirt, in which I took him hostage. I hadn’t changed shirts since my capture either. The little blood specks had turned a rusty brown. There was no casino that would let us in like this.

  “Now, I say we buy some new clothes.” I said and pointed at one of the bigger blood specks on my shirt. He nodded, and grunted in agreement.

  We found a thrift shop, which are actually quite common in Vegas apparently. The new pants and shirts didn’t cost much more than the motel room. Wearing pressed, clean shirts is a feeling only a select few will appreciate but Gary and I appreciated them on a whole other level.

  * * * * *

  Two figures stepped towards the door. He watched them intently. It was a man and a woman. The man appeared to be in his fifties, and wore a coat even though it had to be above 85 Fahrenheit. The woman looked at least 10 years younger. They definitely weren’t from the area, because all of the locals were familiar with each other around these parts. The door swung open and for a minute, the pair just stood there. They were appreciating the change in climate, and thanking the AC unit. They walked over to the counter.

  “Kevin Beaton?” Asked the man in the coat.

  The receptionist’s face changed to shock when hearing his own name from these strangers. It became clear when they took out their badges that they belonged to the New York Department of Justice. But then they seemed rather lost.

  “We would like to ask you a few questions.” Said the woman.


  “How did you know that I called?” Kevin asked, his voice had more than just a hint of panic.

  “We haven’t said why we are here yet, Kevin.” Spoke in turn, the man.

  Kevin’s heart sank. He really goofed this up. He gave himself away.

  “I mean, why are you here?” He tried lazily to fix his previous error.

  “We want to hear it from your personally. What happened? How did it happen?” the woman told him.

  “I don’t want any trouble. I don’t want to get involved.”

  “You won’t. You just have to tell us everything you know, and then we can take care of the rest.”

  “He won’t come back, will he? What if he comes back?” asked Kevin.

  The woman took out a black and white photo from the dossier she was carrying.

  “This is the guy you don’t want to see come back, right?”

  “Yeah that’s him.”

  The two experienced agents looked at each other, then back at Kevin.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I-I don’t know. From the moment I laid eyes on him, he looked familiar, like I had seen his face before. I didn’t recognize his mug shots. That wasn’t it. I just know I’ve seen that face somewhere before.”

  “He’s been on TV before. He was a professional boxer for some time.

  Although an odd alibi, it was believable and made sense. Criminals who had a previous career involving media are five times more likely to be caught or recognized by others.

  They went outside back to the sedan they got from the local station, trying to recount all they had progressed with that day. There was a very high chance that James was here with an unnamed partner. It made sense that they would pay by cash, it couldn’t be traced as easily, but they couldn’t quite figure out why they would have been heading west.

  Suddenly, the URH radio in the car went off. Sorrenson reached in through the rolled down window, and replied to the call.

  “Special Agent Sorrenson here.”

  “Sir, there was another Agent, Agent Lacroix from New York, who wanted to talk to you on the phone.