Stealing Sturgis

by Matthew Iden

  “What the…who are you?” Jason said. The guy wasn’t one of the Hawgs and he didn’t remember making any new friends last night. Not that he remembered much of last night.

  “Let’s just say I’m your new partner,” the other man said. “You can call me Randy.” He pushed away from the doorjamb and walked forward, reaching behind and pulling a pocket knife from a back pocket. Jason, eyes wide, tried to scoot back to the headboard.

  “Relax,” Randy said, laughing. It was an ugly sound, something between a wheeze and a chuckle. He reached down and cut through something, then swung Jason’s feet over the side of the bed and helped him stand. “Let’s withdraw to the parlor and I’ll explain everything.”

  “Why am I tied up?” Jason said, his head spinning at the sudden movement. “Get these things off me!”

  “That’s part of the explanation,” Randy said with a hand on Jason’s upper arm, pulling him towards the hall.

  “Look, asshole, I don’t know what this is about—”

  Randy slammed him against the wall and put the knife under Jason’s chin. The friendly, down-home smile had dropped from his face. “I don’t mean for this to sound like a movie or nothing, but there’s an easy way to do this and a hard way. It don’t really matter to me, ’cause I plan on getting paid either way. But it might matter to you.”

  Jason gasped, partly from the knife, partly from the waves of nausea that came from his head being knocked around. When Randy didn’t remove the knife, Jason nodded once, weakly, trying not to impale his chin on the point.

  “That’s better,” Randy said, smiling again. It didn’t look good on his face, Jason thought. It looked like it didn’t belong there. “Let’s go sit and talk a while.”

  When they walked into the living room, he saw Becky sitting awkwardly on the couch, her hands tied behind her back. Another guy he didn’t recognize—tall and slim, with curly hair—stood by the fireplace, looking morosely at the floor. Becky raised her head, a dull expression on her face, as Jason and Randy came into the room.

  “Gang’s all here,” Randy said cheerfully. He pushed Jason onto the couch and sat across from him. “Glad y’all could make it.”

  Jason looked at Becky, hoping she’d say something, anything, fill him in a little, but she was staring at Randy. The other guy finally looked up, eyes flicking over Jason to rest on Randy, who cleared his throat noisily.

  “Mr. Ford would like an explanation about the situation and I expect Miss Winters wouldn’t mind as well. Am I right?”

  They looked back at him, silent.

  “Well, folks, it’s pretty simple,” Randy continued. “Y’all are rich and I’m not. I’d like to work on a simple redistribution of wealth, meaning from you to me.”

  “So this is a kidnapping,” Becky said.

  “Yes, it surely is.”

  “How much do you want?” she asked.

  “That’s a good question. Last I heard on my favorite entertainment show, your asking price was a million a flick, isn’t that right? And you,” Randy said, turning to Jason, “have been in showbiz since you were a little kid, I understand. A lifetime living in Hollywood probably adds up, don’t it?”

  “Oh, God,” Jason said.

  “Now, don’t get yourself in a state, Mr. Ford. You cough up some cash and my associate and I will be out of your life. Hell, when the public hears about how your life was threatened, how brave you were, and so on, I bet you’ll make your money back, times ten. I’ll even let you say you fought me tooth and nail. Your next film will be a blockbuster.”

  “Could I get some water?” Jason asked, his voice cracking. “Please?”

  “Lee, would you mind?” Randy asked. Lee shoved away from the fireplace and walked into the kitchen, coming back with several glasses of water. He put them on the table then set about untying Jason’s, then Becky’s hands. Randy looked like he was going to say something, then stopped. Becky gave a small sigh as her hands came free, then reached out and slapped Lee in the face.

  Randy howled with laughter. Lee grimaced, but said nothing and Becky picked up her glass of water and took a sip as if nothing had happened. Jason looked confused.

  “’Fraid you deserved that, bud,” Randy said, looking at Lee. He grinned when Lee didn’t say anything, just went back to his spot near the fireplace.

  Randy raised his glass in a mock toast, then said, “All right, now that we’re in better shape, let’s talk straight. Here’s how I figure it. You two”—he pointed to Jason and Becky with the top of his glass—“are worth at least a couple million. But why ask for a ransom and get your friends and families in a lather, your mamas crying and daddies pitching fits, when we can keep this whole thing to ourselves? I figure, why not have you pay for yourselves? No upset folks, no FBI or police, no harm done.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Becky asked. “We can’t just write you a check.”

  “No, I think you know better than that, Miss Winters,” Randy said, clucking his tongue. “I want you to have the money brought here.”

  “Okay, but how?”

  “How do you normally do it?”

  “Normally do what?” Jason asked, a desperate note in his voice. “I’ve never been kidnapped before.”

  “How do you get your money?”

  They stared back at him blankly.

  Randy’s eyes narrowed. “Y’all are worth millions of dollars and you’re telling me you don’t have any way to get a hold of it?”

  “We don’t carry it around,” Becky said. “Half the time we get comped for things by the studio anyway.”

  “What’s a comp?”

  “Free stuff. Food, hotel room, clothes, that kind of thing,” Jason said.

  “You’re pulling my chain,” Randy said. “Really?”

  “Sometimes our agents pay for it and send it to our accountants,” Becky said, glancing at Jason. “At least, I think that’s what happens. And even if we wanted to buy something, we’d charge it. We don’t carry a million dollars around on us.”

  “Well…hell,” Randy said and sat down, the Glock resting on his knee. He seemed to be thinking. “What if you did want your money? Like right now, cash? It’s yours to take, ain’t it?”

  “I—I have no idea,” Jason said, bewildered. “I’d send Shawn to go get some, say if I wanted to go to a bar or something, pay cash for tips and that kind of thing.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know. Five, ten thousand bucks, maybe?” Jason said.

  “To go to a bar?” Randy said, amazed.

  “Is that a lot?” Jason asked.

  Lee started to laugh. Randy looked over at him. “What the hell are you crowing about?”

  “You had this whole thing planned,” Lee said. “You conned me into bringing you to Sturgis, you pull off a double kidnapping, and you don’t have any idea how to get the money. Real smart.”

  Randy lifted the Glock, stood, and pointed the gun at Lee’s chest from two feet away. Jason groaned and tried to inch away; Becky gasped.

  “Is this funny, motherfucker? Maybe you want to keep laughing,” Randy said, staring at Lee. They held gazes for a minute before Lee went back to staring at the floor. The only sound was Randy’s breathing. They stayed that way, in silence. Randy slowly let the gun drop to the floor.

  After a moment, Randy continued talking calmly, as if nothing had happened. “All right, so we got this problem. We can fix it. Way I see it, your money is your money and the bank can’t do nothing about it. If I got five hundred dollars and want it all for a crazy weekend, I can go to the bank and empty my bank account. My business. Same thing here, just some bigger numbers.”

  “Just how big we talking here, Randy Watson?” said a voice behind him. Randy spun around, the Glock ready. Baby Boy, larger than life, stood in the entryway, the Remington cradled in his arms and a big smile on his face.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Baby Boy figured he’d timed his entrance just right. The looks on everyone’s
faces made it all worthwhile: the twelve-hour driving days, the runs, the truck episode, all of it. He’d snuck up to the house, casing it, surprised there weren’t ten or fifteen people hanging around, considering how big it was. He’d just finished circling the property when he’d heard voices coming through the living room window. Creeping close, he recognized that little weasel Randy talking, sounding so sure of himself, then getting confused and frustrated when his little plan started to fall apart. It was at that point that Baby Boy had gone to the front door, figuring he’d bust in with one dramatic kick, a really big entrance. Something told him to try the knob first and, sure enough, the dumbass hadn’t even locked the door.

  “Who the hell are you?” Randy said at the same time Lee said, “Baby Boy?”

  “Baby Boy?” Becky and Jason said together.

  “Howdy, Lee. Folks,” Baby Boy said, nodding. He stepped into the foyer after shutting the door, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Randy, who stood uncertainly, the Glock in his hand. “Don’t get too twitchy, Randy. I know what you’re holding there and I think we can sort things out without shooting the place all to hell.”

  “Sort what out?” Randy said. He was confused and angry. “Who the hell are you?”

  Baby Boy was about fifteen feet away. He barely moved, simply shifting his weight slightly, but suddenly the dark pit of the shotgun barrel was pointed directly at Randy. “Put the gun away, asshole. Then we’ll talk. Got it?”

  Randy looked like he wanted to argue, but he slowly put the Glock in his waistband and put his hands on his hips. “That’s better,” Baby Boy said. He dragged a dining room chair into the living room and eased onto it, as though he expected it to break under his weight. “All right. Here it is. I’m Russell Jenkins, Raylene’s brother. Y’all can call me Baby Boy. I don’t mind.”

  “I heard about you,” Randy said, slowly. “You work for Dougie Hughes?”

  “Yup,” Baby Boy said, leaning back on the chair. He had the shotgun across his lap, his fingers playing with the trigger guard.

  “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

  “My sister sent me to find out what you two shitheads were doing. She don’t trust you as far as she can spit and figured you suckered this dumbass”—he jerked a thumb towards Lee—“into doing no good. Which was right. So I came up to wring your neck and teach Le-roy a lesson.”

  “And?”

  “And, I hear you’ve got something more interesting going on than I would’ve given you credit for. Looks like a score in the making.”

  “There might be,” Randy said suspiciously.

  “Perfect,” Baby Boy said. “I’m in.”

  “Who says we’re taking partners?” Randy asked. His back was stiff and he held his head like there was a stick holding it up.

  “I do. As a good-faith gesture, I won’t shoot you where you stand.”

  “Mighty kind of you,” Randy said with a grimace.

  “My pleasure. Here’s how I figure it. You got yourself this far, but you don’t know how to finish her off. You don’t even know how to get a hold of the money you’re sitting on. I can help with that and cleaning it up so that it can’t be traced. We split it even.”

  Randy was silent for a moment. “All right, then. If it’s so easy, why don’t you just shoot me and do it all yourself?”

  “Because one guy can’t pull this off. How am I supposed to shoot you two, take one of them hostages down to the bank, then come back to get the other one, hoping in the meantime they haven’t worked their way free and called the cops?”

  Randy looked stunned, obviously not having thought of any of the obstacles. “Well…hell,” he said, rubbing the side of his head. “You’re in, I guess. Don’t look like I got much of a choice.”

  Baby Boy stood and smiled. “Not really, partner.”

  Randy had Becky make breakfast for everyone. The three kidnappers ate at the dining room table while Becky and Jason ate in the living room. Baby Boy grinned at Lee over sausages and ready-mix pancakes.

  “Heard you called Raylene.”

  “What?” Randy said, his fork halfway to his mouth. “When was that?”

  “Last night,” the giant man said, shoveling food into his mouth. “S’how I found y’all. Traced the number back to the house. I thought I’d let y’all get a good night’s sleep before I rolled in and ruined your day.”

  “Traced a call, huh?” Randy said, then turned to stare at Lee, a suspicious look on his face. “What’s that about, Lee?”

  Lee swallowed. The call hadn’t gone well. He’d been trying to whisper to Raylene to shut her trap and listen to him, how the situation with Randy had fallen apart, but all she wanted to do was bitch at him. He’d hung up when he’d heard Randy coming down the hallway. He shrugged and tried to make his voice sound calm, bored even. “Hadn’t heard her voice in days. Wasn’t sure you weren’t going to shoot me in my sleep, so I wanted to talk to her one last time.”

  Randy looked at Lee closely as he chewed his food. Apparently coming to a decision, he relaxed and picked up his fork. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Lee. You’re my partner.” He looked at Baby Boy. “You know he’s sweet on this movie star, though, don’t you? That’s our boy Lee. Not two days in town and he’s got bona fide celebrities trying to get in his britches.”

  “That right?” Baby Boy asked, looking first at Randy, then at Lee. “You runnin’ around on my sister?”

  “It look like I’m making time with any movie star right now?” Lee asked. “If y’all are done yanking my chain, why don’t we talk about how we’re going to lay hands on this money?”

  Baby Boy laughed and got down to explaining how they could get the ransom money. They could get some cash from the bank, he told them, but not the millions Randy had hoped for. The movie stars could have a hundred million dollars in their accounts, but you couldn’t just walk into a little local bank in Sturgis and ask for it all…they just didn’t have that much in the vaults. The trick, Baby Boy continued, was to get as much cash as they could, then—and here’s where they’d have to trust him, he said with a wink—they’d wire as much as they could to an account his boss Dougie used to transfer money around so it couldn’t be traced.

  “Are you shittin’ me?” Randy asked. “Why in the hell would I trust you with the lion’s share of the money?”

  “You got a better idea, sport?” Baby Boy said. “You can’t take more than ten thousand out of the bank at a time without a special note. Plus, the banks probably don’t have more than that anyway, and if they did, they’d call the FBI before you got to the door. And it’s not like you can ask for a cashier’s check or they just bust you when you try to cash it.”

  “Hey,” Jason called from the living room. “We need to use the bathroom. You mind?”

  “Lee, why don’t you take care of that?” Randy asked. “I ain’t quite done yet. Just walk ’em back and make sure they don’t have a cell phone on them or nothing.”

  Lee stood and walked Jason back to the master bath, sitting on the corner of the bed while Jason did his business. He escorted the actor back to the living room, then helped Becky to her feet and walked her back. They said nothing as she closed the door. When she came out a few minutes later, he stopped her.

  “Would it help to say I’m sorry?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she said. Lee couldn’t stand the way she was looking at him, like he was a piece of furniture.

  “I can understand you’d like to shoot me along with those two,” he said in a low voice. “And I don’t blame you much. Maybe it would help if you knew I had no idea that I would meet you, let alone get a chance to know you.”

  She looked away, her eyes glistening. “Yeah, well, do most crooks?”

  Lee looked down, studying his shoes. “Probably not. Tell you the truth, I’m not even sure what I was thinking, coming here. It all seemed pretty easy and straightforward according to Randy, no surprise there. We rob a couple of movie stars who wouldn’t miss a c
ouple grand, then I go back and save my garage.”

  “So that part’s true?”

  “It’s all true,” he said. “I didn’t lie to you. I know that’s not much, since I didn’t tell you the truth, either, but I tried talking Randy out of it. I tried to get out of the whole deal. Somehow he has a way of leading you around, pulling you in to the scam without you thinking you’re doing anything wrong.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I listened to one word he said. I guess I’m a pushover.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Becky said, her voice dull. “They’re going to shoot us anyway.”

  “No one’s going to shoot you. We’re going to get the money and leave, is all.”

  She shook her head, impatient. “Lee, use your head. It might be different if no one knew anybody else in this mess, but that’s not how it is. If you let one of us go, all we need to do is say ‘it’s Raylene Jenkins’s brother of Brumley, Virginia’ and the cops go and get him. Or Randy. Or you, for that matter. They both know that. That’s why they’re so relaxed. They know they can shoot us anytime after you get the money.”

  “God,” Lee said, sitting down on the corner of the bed again. He was an idiot. “I’m sorry. I had no clue any of this would happen.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  They were quiet for a minute. Lee said, “I tried to forget you, after that night. That’s partly how I talked myself into going ahead with this stupid deal. We talked for so long, but later all I could think was that it had been, you know, like a charity case, you talking to a grease monkey from the sticks.”

  She sighed, exasperated. “I talked to you because I liked you.”

  “I know, I just didn’t think it was possible. Movie stars don’t talk to nobodies.”

  Becky gave a little laugh. “Lee, I talked to you because I liked how you talked to me—honest and kind of unaware. It’s been a while since anyone just treated me like a person.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really, you dope.”