Over Their Heads

by Eric Beetner

  I looked at Trumble. “I’ll come with you. Some of these folks need attention.”

  “Then they can go to the emergency room like all the other patients with acute injuries,” the nurse said. “Honestly.”

  I didn’t have the chance to see where everyone went. Trumble had me by the arm and steered me down the hallway toward an empty room.

  74

  SEAN

  “Shot himself hunting,” Ernie said to the ER doctor. I hoped to hell they didn’t ask me what we were hunting because I had no clue. I’d never been hunting a day in my life, and I had no idea what season it was. Summer. What the hell did people hunt in summer? Not deer. Not duck. I thought hunting was only in the fall.

  “I’d be careful who you tell that to,” the doctor said. He looked like he was twelve years old. “You could get a ticket for hunting out of season.”

  The ER was busy, but then what ER wasn’t busy? They put that Brent guy in a regular room. He was going to need surgery on his foot, but they wouldn’t do that until morning. I wasn’t hurt bad, so they patched me up and let me go. I needed to see the Brent kid, to at least tell him no hard feelings. Somehow things got a lot more messed up than I had planned on and I couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt on account of me. I just wanted to make some extra money.

  Ernie pulled a chair up beside the bed and gave me a hard look. “What the hell, son? This was about the most fucked up twenty-four hours I’ve ever spent.”

  I opened my mouth to answer. I don’t remember what it was that I was going to say, probably something about wanting to make it all right again, planning to return the money I had stolen, planning to be a better husband to Linda. Who the hell knows?

  “Don’t say anything now,” he said. “But think about what you want to do with your life. Think about your wife and kids. Think about not being a total fuck up.”

  I’d had enough. Not even twelve hours earlier, he told me he wanted me out of Linda’s life. “You’re the one who wanted to take them for more money,” I said.

  Ernie sat back in the chair and chewed on his lip for a bit. Then he stood up and said he was going to go find the ladies. As soon as he left I stood up and put my shirt on and headed out to find Brent’s room.

  75

  CLYDE

  Trumble didn’t keep me long. Just asked me a bunch of stuff about the type of car the kidnapper drove, the places we went, how I knew to follow him. I gave him everything I had on Skeeter. Guy kept hanging around my car lot. Kept threatening my staff. Bashed through the front window. Came here and took my kid. Maybe it was some sort of obsession. Maybe not. He said he had enough information for now. So he let me go but told me not to leave town. Fine by me. I needed to see Brent for a few minutes and then I wanted to be with Madeline and our daughter.

  Sean Griffin was already in with Brent by the time I got to the room. Brent was pretty out of it. They had given him one of those medication pumps where he could dose himself whenever he had pain. He seemed pretty happy to see me.

  “How’s it going?” he said, smiling. “You look like shit.”

  I rubbed a hand over my chin. “Yeah,” I said. “Madeline is pretty pissed.”

  “What about the cops?”

  I shrugged. “They still think this is just a kidnapping. Looking for the guys. We gave them some bogus information about cars and a stalker who was after my agency. Some skinny guy with tattoos.”

  He smiled at that. “Skeeter,” he said.

  “We’ll see if they buy it. I wouldn’t lay money on it though.”

  I was hoping Skeeter was dead in a ditch someplace and when they found his body that would be it, case closed. Everything would go back to normal and I could get on with my life with Madeline and our baby girl.

  Sean Griffin moved a little slowly, but he made it a point to move over and stand in front of me.

  “I want to say I’m sorry. For everything,” he said. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  I wanted to punch him in the face, rip his throat out, but the truth is, I was just too fucking tired. “Fine.” was all I said.

  We heard the footsteps first, the clicking of hard soles on tile, the whistling of a tuneless song, and then he was there. Skeeter. Standing in the doorway. A nurse had shown him the way. He had linked a police badge around his neck and looked like some sort of New York back-street detective, bad teeth and all. He smiled at her and although she cringed a little when he laid his eyes on her, she gave him a nod. “Just don’t stay too long,” she said, backing out. “The patient needs his rest.” She closed the door as she left and Skeeter regarded us with narrowed, blood-shot eyes.

  “Well, well, well, this here’s a classy fuck-you, how do you do, ain’t it?”

  Brent shrank into the bed, his face as white as the sheet. I moved to stand so he couldn’t see Skeeter and Skeeter couldn’t see him.

  “It’s over, Skeeter. They’ve got the stuff they wanted, we got my kid back. You’re out of line here.”

  “The fuck you know about being out of line?” he asked. He moved his hand to his hip and that’s when I noticed the gun he had there. I didn’t know anything about guns. Glock? Nine millimeter? Thirty-eight special? Meant nothing to me. “You screwed me good, Clyde-mother-fucking-McDowd. How’s about you pay me for my trouble?”

  “You want cash you’re going to have to take it up with Corgan.”

  “Fuck that,” he said.

  Sean held his hands out. “This place is crawling with cops, Skeeter. You don’t want to do anything stupid.”

  Skeeter drew the gun. “I want any shit out of you, tubby, I’ll squeeze your head.”

  “I’ll push my call button and bring the nurse in here.” Brent’s voice trembled as he spoke, but I could tell he meant what he said.

  “Try it,” Skeeter said, drawing the gun and pointing it at my chest.

  “Easy there, fella.” Sean moved to stand between me and Skeeter. “I’ve got some money. Some cash I stashed away before I left Detroit. It’s right around forty-five K at this point in time. Will that be enough?”

  “Look, Griffin,” I said.

  “Shut the fuck up, Clyde,” Skeeter hissed.

  “Just come with me,” Sean said. “Come with me and leave these fellas alone. They’ve been through enough.”

  Skeeter holstered his gun. “Lead on.”

  I followed them from the room. Skeeter made a big production of informing the nurses he was taking Sean into custody. I had no idea where they were going, but I knew I needed to tell his family he’d been taken. I hurried off to find Ernie.

  76

  SEAN

  At least this damn money will be good for something. I had to reach back to the top of my long list of regrets to get to the cash I’d embezzled. Good God, I was an embezzler. I’d been so filled with righteous indignation that I never saw it like that. I guess I had some sort of Robin Hood complex about it.

  Well, now the money wasn’t going to the good guys at all. It was going to him. A man named Skeeter.

  Maybe. I got him out of the hospital, that was step one. Step two I hadn’t thought of yet. I needed to stall the little creep. Come to think of it, Skeeter was a perfect name for the annoying shit. If only I could swat him away.

  “So where are we going, pops?”

  He kept a hand on my elbow like he was removing me under police escort. Nobody bothered to ask where his handcuffs were. And how anyone ever thought this scruffy looking punk was a cop, I’ll never know. They must have thought he was some undercover guy or something.

  “I can’t get it right away,” I said.

  He stopped us. “Okay, what is this shit. You just told me—”

  “I can get it for you. Just not right this second. I don’t have it on me. I’ve been a little preoccupied lately, you know what I mean?”

  “How long?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He threw his hands up and let them come slapping back down to his legs like a spoi
led child not getting what he wants. I knew that move well from my own kids. Shit, my kids. I’d almost forgotten about them. That’s not good.

  “Well, what the shit do we do until you can get it?” he asked. “I ain’t just sittin’ around with my thumb up my ass waiting to get caught, y’know?”

  “My bank is in Detroit. Give me an account and I can wire you the money when I get back there.”

  “What the . . .?” Skeeter’s hand went to his gun, but it stayed in his belt. “You think I trust you as far as I can throw you, fat man?”

  “Three days, tops. I just need to get the hell out of Virginia.”

  Skeeter started twitching his body, shuffling his feet. He was annoyed and it worked him like electric shocks. “Nah, nah, man. This ain’t gonna do. No fuckin’ way. Three days? Shit.” He spit out the side of his mouth. “Three days? Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna go to Detroit and get me my money and your wife, the fat lady, she’s gonna stay here with me. She sticks to me like white on rice until I get paid. But you don’t got to worry none on her, not like I’m gonna be raping her or nothing.”

  “She’s in surgery for her bullet wound,” I lied. “The one you gave her.”

  Skeeter grunted like he’d stubbed his toe. “Then you go tomorrow.” He punched the air. “Fuck.”

  “What do we do until then?”

  “You stick with me. And I need to get the fuck out of here right now and go see a friend. So come on.”

  He jerked at my elbow again and we started walking to the parking garage.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I told you I need to see a friend. I need to get good and fucking high if you want to know. This bullshit is too much. And here’s a news flash fat boy—you’re paying my tab.”

  Great. Funding a drug deal. Small potatoes on my list of offenses this trip. Probably won’t even make it onto the police report. At least it gives me more time to think.

  77

  CLYDE

  Madeline still wasn’t all that interested in talking to me.

  “Do you swear this is over now, Clyde?” Her bag was packed, ready to leave the hospital. She was being discharged. Our daughter was still being checked by the doctors and the cops. I didn’t know what was taking so long. She was obviously fine.

  “Babe,” I said. “I need to go talk to one more guy. We’re almost done. And yes, I swear this will be behind us soon.” I needed to get Griffin back. If Skeeter got him injured or if they both got picked up, our entire story could fall apart.

  “Not soon. Now.” Something about her demeanor was different now. She’d toughened up. I don’t know if it was the twenty-four hours without her newborn child or the act of pushing a human being through her vagina, but she was hardened. That did not bode well for me. It also made me pull one last lie out of the bag.

  “Yes. Right now. Let me just go tell them that we’re done and we can get out of here.”

  I found Ernie in the cafeteria sitting with his wife.

  “We have a situation,” I said.

  He looked his age as he sighed and set down his coffee cup. “Again?”

  “Skeeter was just here. He took Sean.”

  “Which one’s Skeeter?”

  “The skinny bastard who likes to shoot first.”

  The wife spoke up. “He’s the one who shot Linda, Ern.”

  “He is, huh?” Ernie looked from his wife to me. “Took Sean, huh?”

  “Yeah. He was looking for money. Sean said he had some to give. I don’t know if he was just baiting him or what.”

  “Baiting him with what? That rat bastard doesn’t have two nickels to rub together.”

  “Ernie,” his wife said. “There’s the money Linda told us about.”

  Ernie put a hand over his eyes. “Aw, shit, that’s right. His stolen cash that started this whole mess.”

  “What stolen cash?” I said.

  “It’s a long story and it’s been a long day. Maybe we can use this, though. The son of a bitch finally did something right by offering that money up to the likes of that little druggie.” He kicked out a chair for me and motioned for me to sit. “Let’s talk this out.”

  78

  BRENT

  I guess crutches weren’t covered by my insurance. You can’t even describe what I was doing as a limp, more like a hop then a skip step. Little noises kept escaping my throat because every time I set my foot down on the floor it felt like I’d stepped on a rusty nail. And the damn flap on the back of my hospital robe kept waving open and letting in a breeze. At least I kept on my shorts.

  The wrapping around my foot was a bloody mess. I had a feeling I’d popped a stitch or two with this hopping around, but no way was I gonna let Clyde handle Skeeter on his own. When that little rat bastard walked out with Sean I wanted to let them go. Sean would be getting the karma he deserved for trying to hang on to the drugs in the first place. Then Clyde went after them and I knew we weren’t done.

  I got a few looks from orderlies and a nurse once, but no one told me to stop or brought me back to my room. Nice security. It was easy to see how Skeeter got inside in the first place. Or how Clyde’s daughter got taken. We got problems with health care in this country and issue number one is that nobody seems to give a fuck.

  Oh well. The lady doctor who stitched up my foot was nice. She frowned a little bit at the bargain basement surgery job done by the doc Skeeter took me to, but in the end even she admitted there wasn’t much more that could be done. It just needed to heal. She put in a few extra stitches, then she shot me up with a lot of Novocaine or whatever it was. Kept talking about her three kids, one in college. Said she just got back into medicine, just moved back to the area. I wasn’t much for small talk. I kinda tuned out when she started talking about her belly dancing classes. It did keep my mind off my foot for a second though.

  I forced myself to quit pushing the pain killer button on my IV. Nothing would have been better than to just lay there and sleep off the last thirty-six hours, but now I had to find Clyde. I wanted in on this posse. I pulled the IV line out and pushed myself to my feet. It took a few minutes for the dizziness to pass, but when it did I moved along as fast as my broken foot would carry me.

  The waiting room was empty of our little crew. I made it to the maternity ward but Clyde wasn’t there either.

  By the time I hopped into the cafeteria, Clyde and Ernie were wrapping up.

  “So who gets to make the call?” Clyde asked.

  “Better you do it,” Ernie said.

  I bumped a chair as I joined their table. “Howdy boys,” I said, grateful to finally get off my feet. “I want in.”

  79

  CLYDE

  Sometimes I don’t think I deserve a friend as good as Brent. I certainly thought it when he hobbled into the hospital cafeteria with his boxers hanging out of his hospital gown and his foot in a three-foot-thick bandage. He insisted on being a part of the plan. I started to tell him no, and then he told me to fuck off. Just like that. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down, stealing my coffee as he did. I looked at Ernie, who just shrugged. “Could use all the help we can get,” he said, so we filled him in.

  “It’s asking a lot,” Ernie said when we finished laying out the plan.

  “It’s gonna save his ass,” I said.

  “Yeah, but counting on him to play along? I don’t give my son-in-law credit for much, but brains is lowest on the list. I guess after his ability to do pushups.”

  Brent slurped on my coffee, then said, “I’m more worried about Skeeter.”

  “Not me,” I said. “He’ll smell the money and come running.”

  Ernie handed over his cell phone. “Let’s hope that boy doesn’t fuck it up before it begins.”

  “Yeah,” I said, taking the phone and pressing send on the number Ernie had called up for me. “Let’s hope.”

  80

  SKEETER

  The fat guy’s cell phone rang. We hadn’t made it to S-Dogg’
s place yet so I hadn’t scored and I was pissed about it. I should have made the fat fucker drive.

  “Well, answer it you pile of shit,” I said.

  Took him forever to dig the thing out of his pocket. I don’t know what the shit his ring tone was. Some top forty fag shit.

  “Hello?” He palmed the phone. “It’s Clyde.”

  “Well what the fuck does he want?”

  “What is it Clyde?”

  I slapped the side of his head with a palm. “Put it on speaker dipshit.”

  He did. Clyde started talkin’ real fast.

  “We got your money, Skeeter.”

  Bullshit. “Where?”

  “It’s at the rental shop. Griffin left behind two suitcases. His wife says the kids were supposed to bring them but they forgot.” I smiled. Sounds typical. Stupid dumbshit kids. “We had them held aside waiting for them to return the vehicle. Turns out one of those suitcases had his money in it.”

  I looked at Griffin. “That true?”

  “If my wife says it’s true, then it’s true. She handles the packing.”

  He could tell by my look that I thought this smelled like a ripe fart. “I dunno.”

  “And I’ll tell you what, I wouldn’t put it past those kids to throw one more wrench in the works like this. I swear to God almighty some days I wish I’d gotten dogs instead.”

  I pulled to a stop at a red light. S-Dogg was still fifteen minutes away. The airport was maybe twenty in the other direction. “Where do I find it?”

  Clyde got a little giddyup in his voice. “In the back there’s a lost and found for luggage and other stuff we pull out of the cars after they’re checked in. It wouldn’t have been wrecked in the crash. They’re still in there.”

  I kinda wish I hadn’t shot that cop now. The place might be crawling with more boys in blue ready to cock block me from my money.