by Torsten Krol
“Jesus, I don’t know. You better report it.”
I reached for my phone, then remembered it’s in the truck. Along with my letter to Condi Rice, so it’s a double blow as they say.
“Fuck!”
“It’s okay, Odell. A truck like that, it’s easy to spot with the mowers and the name on the door ...Hey, maybe this has got something to do with it being Dean’s truck ...you know, souvenir hunters wanting the actual vehicle of America’s Most Wanted Man.”
“But ...they can’t drive a famous truck around without some-one’ll report it when they see it, so why...why would they?”
“They might just take off the doors where the name is and leave the rest.”
“But that’s ... so dumb!”
“Yeah, well, it’s a dumb world.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get back to work. How about I drop you off at Tux deLuxe and then at the police station so you can report it.”
“Then how am I gonna mow my lawns?”
“Tell your customers what happened and they’ll understand. Everyone gets their car stolen sometime or other. It’s okay, Odell, don’t get all panicked.”
“But... all the phone numbers for the people were there in the schedule, which was in the truck ...And my clothes to switch back into after the suit gets taken back, so what am I gonna wear?”
“Jesus, Odell, just relax and we’ll work it out, okay? I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s not like it’s even your truck or your customers, it all belongs to Dean.”
“No it doesn’t!”
“Don’t go all weird on me now, I’ve had all the stress I can handle for today, so just calm down.”
Well, that was hard, calming down. I couldn’t think straight with all this loss and stealing going on. What happened in the end was, Lorraine drove me to Target and I bought a new checked shirt and jeans which I changed into at Tux deLuxe when I took the suit back, then she dropped me off outside the police station to report the truck getting stole, then she drove away to work. I went inside and talked to the guy at the front desk, and while I’m doing that who should come strolling by but Andy Webb.
“Hey there, Odell,” he says, grinning this big shit-eating grin. “Didn’t recognize you there for a second without your businessman’s outfit on.”
“I took it back.”
“Good for you, otherwise they would’ve reported you for stealing.”
“It’s his truck got stole,” says the desk guy.
“Yeah? When’d that happen?”
“While I’m at the funeral,” I said, watching his face for clues that he is one lying son of a bitch when he says it had nothing to do with him.
“Is that right? Well, that is peculiar, a truck with lawn-mowers on board getting stolen in broad daylight like that. Maybe they only wanted the mowers and they’ll dump the truck someplace. Those were pretty good mowers, weren’t they.”
“Uhuh.”
“He doesn’t remember the license plate,” said the desk guy, like I’m some kind of moron.
“Well, he wouldn’t, would he,” says Andy, “seeing as it’s not even his truck, it’s Dean Lowry’s. Not a problem, Odell, it’ll be in the Vehicle Registration records. Did you iron those jeans special for today?”
“They’re brand new, that’s why there’s a crease. I had my other clothes in the truck too.”
“So it’s theft of clothing as well,” says Andy to the desk guy, just barely keeping his face straight. “Make a note of that.”
“Doin’ it,” says the guy, also with a grin now so I knew they were not serious about this, which only made me madder but not showing it, I would not give them that satisfaction.
“Don’t you worry, Odell,” Andy said, “we’ll get your truck back ... sometime.”
I didn’t speak a word, not wanting to say something as might get me into Trouble with the Law, only give them both a steady stream of eye-daggers to let them know I have smelled the rat here and am not fooled one little bit. The funny thing is, it calmed me down knowing the cops stole the truck for harassment because I most likely will get it back when they figure they’ve had all the fun to be got out of this situation and bring it back, most likely saying they found it parked somewhere. I didn’t think they would wreck it or any extreme behavior like that.
“How about I give you a lift home,” offered Andy, still smiling like this isn’t a total setup with me the dumbass at the center of it all. But I did have to get home somehow.
“Okay.”
We went out to his cruiser and got rolling. He says, “That was a pretty nice funeral. Lorraine looked real good, don’t you think?”
“Uhuh.”
“She always did look good in a suit or uniform. Not every woman does.”
I didn’t say anything, still mad at him about his stupid truck-stealing trick.
“Say, Odell, did you watch the news last night, Fox News?”
“Uhuh.”
“That was the DVD at Okeydokey Karaoke I was telling you about, the one that shows you weren’t exactly telling the truth about being with Dean at his place Saturday night.”
“I told you I made a mistake about that. I even said so to the FBI that come around asking, so you can’t get me into trouble about that.”
“Who’s trying to get anyone in trouble here? Not me. Course, there is one double-dealing shithead who’s gonna find himself in big trouble about revealing secret police evidence to the media, but that’s okay, I know who he is – an ex-cop, or pretty soon will be. You can’t trust anybody these days. Everybody just wants to make a buck and say Screw you to his friends and colleagues and the reputation of the department. But he’ll get his, oh yeah.”
And you’ll get yours is what I’m thinking but I didn’t say it, let him get a big surprise about this when the lawsuit hits him in the face, the smartass. Andy gave out this little chuckle, like he’s thinking about dipping Officer Larry Dayton into boiling oil nice and slow from the toes on up, then he turned to me very serious and said, “Odell, if there’s anything at all you feel like telling me, anything at all, in strictest confidence, just between you and me and the dashboard, I want you to feel free to do that without fear of retaliation. Anything you told me that might be useful enough information to get passed along to Homeland, I’d treat that as confidential, you know? From an Unknown Source. No blowback to you, see what I mean?”
“It’s just souvenir hunters, I expect.”
“Huh? No, not the goddamn truck, the real case, the Dean Lowry situation. Any information I can provide to Homeland will be received with thanks, maybe even reward money. Course, as an officer of the law I’m not entitled to any kind of a reward, I’m just doing my job, but the one that told me the information, he’d be entitled to whatever they’re offering. It’s a hundred grand for Dean right now, but I heard along the grapevine that’s gonna get upped to a cool half mil. Know why? Because Senator Fucking Ketchum got pissed when he saw how low the reward is for this guy that’s out to kill him. Makes him look less important, like he’s just a bank president or something, you know, not the guy that’ll most likely end up the next President of the United States. It’s all about status and who swings the biggest dick in Washington. What a shit-hole that place must be, all that corruption and brown-nosing they do there. Would you want to live in Washington, Odell?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither. Where would you like to live? Now me, I’d choose Hawaii if I was the one got that half mil reward money. But that’s just me. Where would you choose, Odell?”
“Hawaii.”
“See? You and me have got more in common than you might think. Maybe if you took the time to consider the situation you might remember things better and have that nice chunk of change made available to you for getting a whole new lifestyle over there with the palm trees and hula girls. They’re cute, those brownskin girls. Ever had one of those, Odell?”
“No.”
“Me neither, but I’ve been told. What
’s your preferred type of woman?”
“Condoleezza Rice.”
He laughed about that like I’m kidding, which offended me and would’ve offended Condi if she’s sitting in the back seat listening to all this. But at least she’d know the level of respect I have got for her, which will go in my favor when she gets the confession letter ...which she won’t be getting now because it got stole along with the truck and phone and mowers and lawnmowing schedule and all the mess that’s littering the floor of Dean’s Dodge, they stole everything. But then I started worrying what happens if before they give the truck back to me the cops decide to open up that letter? Chief Webb will get the very thing he needs to make a big impression on the guys at Homeland and maybe get on the news and use the publicity to run for Sheriff . . .
Shit!
Maybe they would’ve thought it’s just a joke letter and left it alone, but now that I said Condi’s name out loud it’ll make Chief Webb get curious to know what’s inside the envelope. Which he’ll report and then come directly out to the house and dig up Dean and claim the glory, which will be better than the reward money for him because it’s his reputation he’s wanting to show off to people so’s he’ll get their vote. The first thing I’d do when I got home is dig Dean up again and hide him someplace else until Condi gets the letter and she’ll be the one gets the glory for finding out Mad Muslim Dean is no threat at all. No way was I gonna let Chief Webb steal the glory from Condi Rice! It’s a matter of personal honor, the way I see it.
“Me,” he says, “I could go for Oprah.”
I kept my mouth shut. He says, “Think there’s a chance Lorraine’ll move back out to Dean’s place now that Bree’s gone and Dean’s on the run?”
“Maybe.”
“Nice big old house like that, all it needs is a new coat of paint. I guess you’ll be moving out when that happens.”
“Maybe.”
“That is unless you and her have come to some kind of a personal arrangement.”
“I’d be happy to pay rent.”
He snorted like a horse that’s got chaff up its nose. “Sure, Odell, you play it cool if you want, only don’t forget any of this that I’m telling you. You can do yourself a power of good with half a mil. Maybe Lorraine’d want a share in that. Nothing makes a woman more pleased with a man than he delivers the bucks and plenty of it. That’s the real secret of happiness between the sexes, Odell, only nobody wants to talk about it because it doesn’t put women in a nice light where the libbers have put them, all superior to men. Show ’em the money and they’ll call you Honey.”
“Not all of them.”
“Right, there’s a ninety-seven-year-old widow in Poughkeepsie thinks different.”
“I just want my truck back.”
“Your truck? Seems to me you’re kinda taking over there, Odell. Not that I can’t see your point of view. Dean won’t be coming back to mow lawns anymore, that’s for damn sure, and like I said it’s a pretty nice place out there, and then there’s Lorraine to consider, the way she’ll need comforting over all this loss and publicity. The house’ll be hers once Dean gets put away or shot down like a dog, either one. That’s a real nice package for any man to be dealing with, especially if it comes with a half-mil bonus prize. Course, you’ll be wanting to spend that in Hawaii, not on Lorraine.”
“I don’t know anything and I didn’t do anything.”
“Sure, I hear that. Only think about it.”
We didn’t talk again till we’re at the house and he’s pulling into the yard. “Odell,” he says, “this business won’t be over until Dean is caught or buried.” That’s what he thinks. “Until that happens there’s all kinds of ways the situation can develop. You need to be thinking about what’s best for you. That’s good advice for free I’m giving you.”
“Thank you.”
“No charge.”
I got out and he drove away. When his cruiser’s out of sight I went and got the shovel and started in digging up that god-damn fucking mound of dirt. This is the sixth time it’s been dug out now and I’m the digger four of those times, so I felt like if those times were strung end to end I could just about have dug my way down to Hell. This time I didn’t have my lawnmowing gloves so my palms started to smart after awhile and I got a couple of dishrags and wrapped them around to stop any blistering that might be used for evidence against me when Chief Webb and the cops open that letter and come screaming out here with lights flashing to dig up Dean and get their glory. No way is that gonna happen. I didn’t know yet where I’ll stash him this time, I’d think about that when he’s out of the hole.
I dug like a machine and pretty soon there he is in his plastic bag outfit. The problem now was where to put him. If my Monte Carlo was running good I could just drive him away someplace and hide him under a bridge on some lonely stretch of highway, but it isn’t, so that idea is a nonstarter just like my car. I went in the barn and found an old rusted-out wheelbarrow that I can use to trundle Dean around instead of lifting and carrying him in my arms, which I’m grateful for because even if he’s wrapped up good in plastic the smell is coming through pretty strong. This way I can take him a little way away without getting myself stinking like a dead man, but only as far as the wheelbarrow will go without breaking my arms or falling to pieces it’s so old and rusted. So where would be a good place?
I did some thinking and walking at the same time around the property and saw that way out beyond the back yard there is this little stand of cottonwoods, some of them fairly old because they are a good size. I went over and found there’s kind of a dried-up wash close by that would likely be running with water in springtime but now in midsummer it’s bone dry, and it has ate away the soil there, kind of undercutting the bank and leaving a gap just about big enough to cram a dead man inside of it. So there was my hideyhole for Dean, provided by Nature. I put him in the wheelbarrow and trundled him over some fairly rough ground to the dry wash and down into it to the crevice there and shoved him inside.
Anyone standing above would not have been able to see him there, but anyone stood on the other side of the wash or down in it like I am could see him easy, so what I did was get up on top of the bank and jumped up and down hard as I can until the bank finally gave way and collapsed down over him like I wanted. I went down with the earthslide but it’s only a little way so no harm done only I’m twice as dirty now than before. But Dean has been hid away very nice for the time being so I’m satisfied. So long as nobody comes back here and sees that the soil has slid down just recent I’m okay.
I wheeled the barrow back to the barn and then filled in the hole. Again. Then I took a shower and run my brand new but very filthy shirt and jeans through the washing machine to get that fresh dirt out of them, disposing of the evidence, they call this. Now if Andy Webb wanted to come out here ready to dig up Dean he would be a disappointed man. If he waved the Condoleezza letter in my face and says he can prove it’s mine by a handwriting expert I’ll just say it was a joke letter and not really true, hah!
I fixed myself something to eat and wolfed it down fast after all that physical exercise hiding Dean, expecting any moment to hear sirens coming my way but that didn’t happen, so after awhile I started to relax a little and watch TV with a beer or two. They are still running the Okeydokey stuff making Dean look like an idiot and barely mentioned the manhunt for him that’s still ongoing, so it looks like the story is losing its legs they call that, which is okay by me, I want it all to go away.
I was hoping Lorraine might call me tonight but that didn’t happen. I would’ve called Agent Jim Ricker to ask him to tell Chief Webb to give my truck back, but Jim’s number is in the phone that’s in the truck. All in all I felt kind of steamed about things being the way they are, but I told myself I had gone and done everything I could to make things turn out right and that’s all you can do. So with the help of a couple more beers and a shot or three of the Captain inside me matters were not so bad that I couldn’t find sleep
, or maybe sleep found me.
Hello, Odell.
Hello, Sleep.
THIRTEEN
They do say that there is no rest for the Wicked, and the fact that I was woke up from a deep sleep there in front of the TV might prove that’s true if you have it in mind that I had done some wrong things so far. I don’t know how long the phone had been ringing by the time I got up from the sofa and blundered into the kitchen to pick it up.
“Who’s that?” says the voice at the other end.
“Odell ...”
“You sure?”
I thought about it. “Yeah.”
“You sound different.”
It’s a guy I’m talking to and the voice is familiar, only I can’t recall who.
“I just now woke up,” I said. “Who’s this?”
“I’m not saying my name, not over the phone, man, it’s too risky with all this about Dean.”
The nickel dropped. “Donnie?”
“No, man, don’t say that. No names, okay? Maybe the line’s bugged.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You haven’t been hearing, like, clicks and stuff on the line?”
“No.”
“Well, that don’t mean squat, it could be bugged anyway. I won’t talk business on a line that’s maybe bugged. We need to meet someplace.”
“I can’t, I’m stuck here. Someone stole the truck.”
“Stole the truck?”
“I know who did it. He’ll give it back but not just yet.”
“You got no wheels at all?”
“No.”
He’s quiet for a little while, thinking, I guess. I heard him squeeze out a fart but not a loud one. “Okay,” he says, “this is how we’ll do it. No way am I coming near the place. They’ve probably got it under observation looking for Dean to come back, so no way. If you can’t drive someplace and talk to me, what you gotta do is this, you go down to the road and start walking in the direction of Callisto, and I’ll come along there and stop when I see you, okay?”
“I’m pretty tired right now. You woke me up . . .”
“Hey! I don’t give a rat’s ass how fucking tired you are, man! We have got business to discuss and that’s just how it’s gotta be! You do this my way or you can forget about doing business with me anymore, okay? Okay?”