He turned onto Cambridge Street and drove slowly counting off the numbers until he came to 1271. The house was dark inside, lit only by the glow of a walkway lantern. He parked the car two doors down then got out and walked back. Circling the house he found an empty garbage can, upturned it and climbed up to peek inside the window. The rooms were empty; no furniture, no sign of anyone living there. As he headed back toward his car, he noticed the realtor’s lockbox hanging on the front door handle.
“Shit,” he grumbled then turned the car around and headed crosstown toward Bishop’s place. Hopefully he’d have better luck there.
The houses were bigger in this area of town, the lawns manicured with rows of flowers bordering the walkways. Finding Bishop’s house was easy; it was a large two-story with oversized windows and bright gold numbers on the door. Eddie parked the car across the street and watched. Inside he saw a young girl, a kid really, and the man who was obviously her father. They sat side by side on the sofa, and in the distance there was the flickering of a television screen. They seemed peaceful, happy even, talking, laughing, enjoying a life with no problems.
Why was it, Eddie wondered, that people like this got all the good stuff and he got shit? He couldn’t remember one time when his daddy had wrapped an arm around him the way this man was doing with his kid. The only good thing he ever had in his life was Tom, and now Tom was gone. Shot dead because of some stupid woman.
Why wasn’t her family suffering like he was? Why did they get to go right on enjoying life, being happy and living in their fancy house? He thought about the crappy hotel room where he was staying, and the anger inside of him started to simmer. What justice was there in a situation such as this?
A short while later the television was turned off, and Eddie watched as the girl disappeared up the staircase. Moments later a light in the side window of the second floor clicked on.
He got out of the car and walked around to where he could see what was going on. Hidden in the shadow of an oak, he watched as the girl moved about changing from her shorts and tee shirt into pajamas. She lifted a small dog into her arms then climbed into bed. Before long the kid’s daddy came into the room. He bent and kissed her forehead, then said something and snapped off the light. After that there was only the soft glow of a nightlight.
The stillness of the evening settled around Eddie as he stood there in the shadows. Crickets chirped, the wind sighed and he continued watching as the downstairs lights went off one by one until the house was lost to darkness.
As he drove back to the Sleepway Inn, his thoughts bounced up and down as if they were on a trampoline. One moment he’d be remembering the good times he and Tom had when they caroused around the country. The next he’d switch to thinking of what lay before him.
A life of being poor and alone.
By the time he arrived at the motel, he’d made a decision. Alisha wasn’t the same as having Cassidy or Tom, but she was better than being alone. He packed up the few things he had, got back into the car and headed for her place. On the way he stopped and bought another bottle of Jim Beam. A good stiff drink would make him feel better.
Eddie fished the key from beneath the doormat and let himself into Alisha’s apartment. The place was nice, better than he’d expected. He set the bottle of Jim Beam on the kitchen counter, searched the cabinets for a glass then poured himself a drink and went into the living room.
He clicked on the television, pushed some throw pillows aside and settled down on the sofa. He wanted it to feel the same as what he’d seen at Drew Bishop’s house, but it didn’t. The furniture was nice enough and the TV got all the channels, but alone was alone. That was the thing bothering Eddie the most. He swallowed a swig of bourbon then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the sofa.
From somewhere far away he could hear Tom’s voice. The sound was familiar, but the words were scrambled and falling one on top of the other. He tried to call to mind the image of himself and Tom together, standing side by side, joking, him with his arm hooked around Tom’s neck and Tom elbowing his ribs. He could picture bits and pieces of it: arms locked together, feet next to one another, a peal of laughter, part of a grin, but the complete picture of two brothers who looked exactly alike never materialized.
With Tom gone it was as if he’d lost part of himself as well.
It was almost two o’clock when he finally heard Alisha’s key in the lock.
She smiled when she saw him sitting there. “Glad you could make it.” She dropped her tote bag on the floor then came and sat beside him. “So, did you find out anything else?”
Eddie had already downed four, maybe five, drinks, and his brain was feeling fuzzy.
“About what?” he asked.
“The money!” With an annoyed look stretched across her face she said, “Tommy had this big pile of money set aside for you, remember?”
“I ain’t stupid, ’course I remember.” That’s why she invited me here. ’Cause of the money.
“Well, what about it?”
“I ain’t got it yet, but I got a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
“I ain’t ready to talk about it yet. You’ll find out when it’s time.”
Alisha gave him her “liar, liar, pants on fire” look.
“Is this for real, or are you just bullshitting me?”
“You’ll see,” Eddie said with an air of false bravado.
After a few more drinks Eddie and Alisha headed for the bedroom. She expected way more than he could deliver, and after a half hour of fumbling she said she was too tired for such nonsense and turned on her side.
Eddie was left naked and feeling extremely inept. This was yet another thing he’d failed at. He’d never had a problem performing when he and Tom had worked jobs together. After Tom left he’d had a few such episodes with Cassidy, but it wasn’t this bad. At least, he couldn’t remember it being this bad.
For a long while he lay awake, looking up at the ceiling and wondering where he could go from here. As far as he could see there wasn’t anywhere else. He had less than six hundred dollars and a twenty-year-old car that could be reported as stolen any day now. Sooner or later someone would notice the empty parking space and ask good old Bruce Kersey what he’d done with his car.
For a second or two he thought of Cassidy, but he knew there was no going back to her. The whole time he was in jail she’d sent one letter, and that was filled with words like “stupid” and “loser.” Instead of signing it with Xs and Os, she had written that if he ever came near her again she’d shoot his head off.
Now he had Alisha. Well, he didn’t really have Alisha, he just had the possibility of having her. He couldn’t afford to blow this.
Alisha expected him to divvy up the money with her, but there was no money. There never had been. He’d said it because he figured it was the kind of thing Tom would say.
Every thought he had circled around and came back to Tom. If Tom were here, he’d know what to do. If Tom were here, he’d have a place to stay. If Tom were here, he wouldn’t be alone.
This time the picture came to him, but it wasn’t of the two brothers standing side by side. What he saw was Tom stretched out on the floor of the drugstore with a part of his skull blown away. Tears overflowed Eddie’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks, falling silently onto the pillow.
It ain’t fair, his brain screamed. It just ain’t fair!
The Plan
After a mostly sleepless night, Eddie had come up with a plan. He was all but certain the idea was the message Tom had been trying to send him. He could feel it in his bones. Even with Tom gone their connection was as powerful as ever.
As he sat across the breakfast table from Alisha, he talked about having things to do that day. He made no mention of what it was he’d be doing, and she didn’t bother asking.
“That’s fine,” she said. “I’m on the early shift today.”
On the early shift Alisha worked from three in the afternoon
until ten at night. She told Eddie she’d be home by ten-thirty.
“You coming back here tonight?” she asked.
He nodded even though it should have seemed obvious with his duffle stored in the bedroom closet.
Alisha was still putting on her makeup when Eddie left.
“See you tonight,” he called out. Then he scooted out the door and headed for the parking lot.
Eddie felt good this morning. He could feel a surge of confidence swelling in his chest. It was the same kind of confidence he felt when he and Tom started out on a job. He was on the right track, he was sure of it.
This time he was doing things the way Tom would have done. The first step was to scope out the place, look for any possible snags and take care of them ahead of time. The kid was small; she’d be easy to carry. But before he thought about that he had to watch the house, make sure everything was as he thought, make sure there’d be no last-minute changes in their routine, no foul-ups or interruptions.
When he turned onto Greenhaven Drive he was already wearing his baseball cap and sunglasses.
At the far end of the street, he spotted a kid walking a dog. It looked like the girl he’d seen last night, but he couldn’t be sure. When he’d seen her through the window she’d seemed smaller and her hair darker. He parked half a block back and watched. If this were the right kid, she’d turn into the Bishop house when she finished walking the dog.
Brooke walked Lucy to one end of Greenhaven. Then she turned and walked back to the other end. Every so often she’d stop and issue commands such as “stay” or “sit,” but the puppy paid little attention.
Eddie watched for almost an hour; then he spotted a frizzy-haired blonde coming out of the house next door to Bishop’s. The woman stood at the end of her walkway looking up and down the street. If she were to turn in his direction, Eddie feared she might see him. He pulled the baseball cap lower on his forehead and peered from beneath the bill as he slunk lower in the seat.
After a few moments she spotted the girl and called to her.
“Brooke!” she yelled. “Come have some cookies.”
The girl turned back, and both she and the dog followed the woman inside the house.
“Rat shit,” Eddie muttered.
This turn of events neither proved nor disproved anything. He had no alternative but to sit and wait for whatever happened later.
Another hour rolled by before the girl reappeared, but instead of going back to the Bishop house she started walking the blasted dog up and down the street again.
~ ~ ~
Jim Morrissey lived four doors down from the Bishops. He was the youngest of four boys and rumored to be the most incorrigible of them all, which was saying something since Alvin, the eldest of the lot, had been arrested three times for miscellaneous mischief. Jim wasn’t afraid of the devil himself, but he had a healthy dose of respect for his daddy who could pack quite a wallop when he’d a mind to.
At fifteen years old Jim was a full year away from getting his learner’s permit and two years out from legally obtaining a driver’s license. But the lad had a love of cars, and to him two years seemed an eternity.
Twice before Big Joe, Jim’s daddy, had caught the boy taking the family Oldsmobile out for a spin, and both times there’d been hell to pay. When Big Joe took to cussing that boy out, the neighbors could hear it five blocks away. The fisticuffs escalated to such a point that Emma Paulson, who lived directly across the street, called the police because she feared one of them might kill the other.
On a day when Jim knew his daddy wouldn’t get home from work until four-thirty, he took the Oldsmobile out again. Two days earlier he’d bragged to Stephanie Wilkins about driving his daddy’s car, and she’d goaded him into promising to take her for a spin. He hadn’t counted on Stephanie being as amorous as she was, and when he came up for air he saw the dashboard clock read four-twelve.
“Holy crap!” he bellowed. “I gotta get this car home, or my daddy’s gonna kill me.”
He dropped Stephanie off and went flying down Pine Street. He was rounding the corner onto Greenhaven when he hit the UPS truck. It was a head-on collision, and the sound of it could be heard nine blocks away. When the two vehicles finally ground to a stop, the UPS truck was missing the right fender and the front end of the Oldsmobile was folded up like an accordion.
Looking out her front window and seeing what had happened, Emma Paulson knew it was time to call the police. By then almost everyone on the block had rushed outside to see what happened.
Eddie Coggan heard the screech of sirens in the distance and knew it was time for him to get going. With one end of the street blocked by the UPS truck and the crumpled up Oldsmobile, he made a three-point turn and headed in the opposite direction. As he passed by the gathering crowd he saw Drew Bishop holding onto the kid with the dog, and a great sense of satisfaction settled over him.
It had been a good day.
By the time Alisha arrived home that night, Eddie was pumped and he’d lost count of the number of bourbons he’d downed. But it wasn’t just the bourbon that was giving him this euphoric feeling; it was the adrenaline rush of knowing he’d stood on the edge of danger and walked away whole. He had driven right past the police car, and they’d not so much as turned their heads.
This feeling was the same kind of feeling he’d gotten after he and Tom had pulled a job together. It was the thrill of tempting danger, the power of knowing they’d outsmarted their opponents, the confidence of realizing they could take what they wanted and nobody could stop them.
“You seem to be in a pretty good mood,” Alisha said. “You find where Tommy hid the money?”
Eddie gave a lusty grin. “Pretty much. Now all I gotta do is figure out when and how to take it.”
That statement got Alisha’s attention, and she began wheedling him for more information. One question led to another, and before long Eddie began enjoying the game. It was almost like foreplay.
She tugged at her lower lip and suggestively ran her finger along the inside, pretending to be thinking up the next question.
“Is the money all in cash?”
He laughed. “Not ready cash, but she’s worth a hundred grand.”
“She?” Alisha repeated curiously.
Eddie hadn’t anticipated telling her about the plan. Something like this was always better kept under wraps—Tom taught him that early on—but it slipped out one juicy little piece at a time.
Once it was out in the open Alisha looked at him as if he were stark raving mad.
“You’re going to kidnap this kid?” she echoed. “Are you friggin’ nuts?”
Such an implication took a chip out of Eddie’s confidence.
“No, I ain’t nuts!” he replied. “I’m doing what Tom wants me to do.”
“Tom’s dead!”
“Dead or alive don’t matter; we got this—”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know, connection.”
“That’s right.” He went on to say it was the search for Tom that led him to the drugstore and ultimately to Drew Bishop’s house.
“It’s just the two of them,” he said. “The father and the kid. She goes to bed at ten o’clock, and he goes to bed on the other side of the house fifteen, twenty minutes later.”
“And, Mister Genius, once you nab this kid, what are you gonna do with her?”
Eddie hadn’t thought that part through yet. He hesitated a minute then smiled and said, “I’m gonna bring her back here and keep her in the pantry closet until I get the ransom money.”
Alisha saw the smile on his face and began laughing uproariously.
“You had me going there,” she said, clutching her sides from laughing so hard. “For a while I thought you were actually serious.”
The smile faded from Eddie’s face. “I am serious.”
Then she laughed even harder. “Yeah, and after that we could do a bunch of bank heists, maybe be this century’s Bonnie and Clyde.”
As she stood there laughing Eddie began to feel smaller, less sure of himself. The confidence he’d felt that afternoon vanished, and he was left with the same feeling he’d had back in the West Tennessee jail when he read Cassidy’s letter telling him that he was and always would be a stupid good-for-nothing loser.
Earlier he’d had thoughts of making love to Alisha, thoughts of hot sweaty sex that would make up for his impotence of the previous night. Now such a thing was all but impossible.
Despite the friction in the air, they polished off the bottle of bourbon. When they climbed into the bed, he turned on his side facing away from her.
“Aw, come on,” she said. “Don’t start pouting just because I laughed at your sorry-ass idea.”
“I’m not pouting,” he grumbled. He let another minute of silence hang in the air then said, “And it’s not a sorry-ass idea. It’s a plan, a good plan. You’ll see.”
By then Alisha was too tired and too drunk to argue. She knew by the next morning she’d forget about it and so would he.
“Whatever,” she said.
Long into the night Eddie lay there thinking of his plan, laying it out piece by piece. When he finally closed his eyes, he could see Tom giving him a proud wink of approval.
The Check List
With the plan bristling through his head, Eddie found it almost impossible to sleep. As soon as slivers of daylight began filtering through the blinds Alisha kept drawn tight, he reached across and nudged her shoulder.
“I’ve gotta get going,” he whispered. “I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Mummph.” She brushed his hand away and pulled the lightweight blanket over her shoulder.
When Eddie left the building, his step was jaunty and he was whistling Two Pina Coladas. He’d already decided that once he had the money, he was taking off for Mexico. A person could get lost easily enough in Mexico. The hundred grand would last two years, maybe three. Good living was cheap in Mexico. When the money ran low, he’d head back to the States. Not Alabama and certainly not Tennessee. Maybe somewhere in the northeast; Philadelphia or New York.
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