by Mike Faricy
“Well, there you go, so much for the locks on the door,” Carlos said. “Come on, that was our traveling music, we’ll head out the backdoor and circle around the building back to the car.” He opened the bolt lock on the door leading outside and cautiously peeked out, then quickly waved us forward with the Sig Sauer.
The door opened up to five concrete steps with thick concrete walls on either side. The steps and the walls were painted the same white as the laundry room and led up to ground level. As we stepped outside, I could hear some fairly substantial noise coming from one of the units three stories above us. Angry voices and what sounded like lots of dishes being broken.
When Carlos stepped out, he immediately glanced up and seemed to half smile to himself. “Get up these steps and we’ll go along the side of the building back out to the front. When you get to the corner of the building, hold up and wait for me,” he said.
It sounded like everything was crashing and breaking in his apartment up on the third floor and he moved us forward with another wave of the Sig Sauer. We hurried along the side of the apartment building until we came to the front.
“Hold it right there,” Carlos half whispered from behind then he squeezed past us and peeked out to the front sidewalk.
Apparently the coast was clear because he gave a wave with the pistol then hurried out toward the Mercedes. A woman who had been walking her dog was standing on the sidewalk with her back to us. She was holding the leash and a blue plastic bag of dog poop in one hand, her cellphone in the other, and completely oblivious to us coming up behind her.
“No, it’s a large vehicle, black, with a Grey Wolf Casino sign on the door. It looks like some sort of a hot rod or something and appears to have smashed into this Mercedes. What? No, I’m not seeing anyone around, but there’s broken glass and bits and pieces of car all over the street. This big black vehicle is sort of blocking part of the cross street and….”
As Carlos came up behind her, the little white dog began to bark. Before she had a chance to turn around and see us, he snatched the phone from her hand and said, “Wrong number,” to whomever she had been talking to. Then he shoved her phone into his front pocket.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing? Have you lost your mind? I just happened to be talking to the police for your information. You can’t do that, give me back that phone, this instant,” she shrieked then stood with her chin jutted out and her bottom lip trembling for a moment glaring at Carlos.
“Get the hell out of here, lady.”
“Now you listen here,” she started in, but then focused on the pistol as Carlos slowly raised it and pointed it directly at her face. Her eyes grew wide and she was suddenly very quiet.
“I think you better listen to him,” I said trying to warn her off before she became a casualty.
“Well, I never,” she said then yanked the leash and the little furry white dog on the far end leapt up into her arms. She began to march down the sidewalk lecturing with the dog in her arms and still holding the blue plastic bag. “Well, you can just rest assured we’ll….”
Carlos aimed his pistol at the rear tire of the Humvee and fired. The round punctured the tire and it quickly deflated, giving off an evil hiss. The woman with the dog screamed, tossed the dog and the blue plastic bag up in the air and took off running down the street. The dog took off at a perpendicular angle and ran across the street to a female lab stretched out on the front lawn.
Carlos gave a satisfied sort of smile as the woman disappeared down the street, then waved us into the Mercedes and said, “You just better hope this thing starts and you can get us the hell out of here, man.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Emma held her little sister’s hand while Carlos stood off to the side and cursed us for not moving faster. I ushered the girls into the backseat and then ran around the front of the car checking the wheels as I went. The rear of the car appeared to have been virtually destroyed when the Humvee slammed into it. The trunk was buckled, the taillights were broken and the rear window was cracked, but when I put it in drive to pull away from the curb it responded.
As we pulled away from the curb and headed down the street, I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw bits and pieces of debris bouncing off the pavement. Carlos seemed to heave a sigh of relief.
I don’t know if it was by design or just the way it worked out, but the girls were seated on the side Carlos had sliced up and desperately clung to the remnants while he had the one comfortable rear seat. He turned around and stared out the back window looking for any activity in the street behind us.
I watched in the side view mirror as two large looking guys suddenly emerged from the building and ran out into the street. One of them raised a shotgun and fired, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. I sped up all the same causing a hubcap from a rear wheel to fly off and bounce across the street into a parked car.
“What’s up with those Grey Wolf Casino guys? What’s their problem?” I asked and then suddenly remembered the transponder mounted in the trunk.
“Bunch of sore losers, I guess. I just can’t figure out how they found us. I mean, what are the odds?”
I wanted to tell him the odds were about a hundred percent with the tracking device in the trunk. I could only hope their Humvee would be able to start and they’d catch up with us. “I don’t think they’re after you because you won too much.”
“Man, what a waste. I met this chick and we ended up there. Let’s just say she turned out to be a lot more work than I wanted to put in and she did nothing except bring me bad luck at the tables.”
“Did you skip out on your room charge or something?”
“I didn’t actually skip out, I just sort of left. I figured as long as that chick was such a pain, she could pay the damned thing. And, well then there was that little unscheduled withdrawal that I made?”
I flashed him a look in the rearview mirror. “Unscheduled withdrawal?”
“Those security jerk-offs hassled me because this bitch was acting like a royal pain in the ass. This is after they banned me from the roulette wheel and then the black jack tables. So much for nice customer service.”
“Anyway, I just wanted another drink and this chick was doing nothing but bitching, so I figured screw this and I just left. Who’d hang around for more of that? I sure as hell don’t need that kinda shit. On the way out, I stopped by the cashiers’ window and they were doing a shift change or something, not paying too much attention and so I just sort of helped myself.”
“You mean you robbed them.”
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it. Another might be I just took back some, not all, but a percentage of what they took from me. Next time maybe they’ll think twice before they decide not to give me a chance to win it all back.”
“How big of a percentage?”
“I haven’t had time to count it, but I’m guessing about ninety maybe ninety-five percent. I just can’t figure out how in the hell they got on to us down here, and in this car.”
“Maybe start with taking the girls, then of course the car you left in Two Harbors, my car actually. I don’t know, maybe fueling up and fleeing in the boat might have had something to do with it. Obviously that guy in the harbor called the cops, remember the helicopter? Don’t forget the couple who own this car, you tied them up and left them. You said they were tribal members, getting checks from the casino, right? You start putting all that together and it starts to add up, Carlos. You’ve left a pretty interesting trail and, and well as long as we’re on the subject there’s something else.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“The name Tubby Gustafson mean anything to you?”
“Tubby? What the hell do you know about Tubby?” Carlos shrieked and the color seemed to drain from his face.
“You didn’t just happen to make an uninvited stop at one of his card games the night before last, did you? You a Batman fan?”
“How the hell do you know abo
ut that? Not that I did it or anything, just more of a hypothetical kind of question.”
“Well, someone used my car to rob Tubby. Let me tell you, he’s not all that happy about it and you were the last person seen driving that vehicle.”
“Yeah, but how does he know it was even me?”
“You wore a Batman mask, right?”
A shocked look washed over his face.
“I’m here to tell you, Carlos, Tubby really hates Batman, I mean he hates him with a passion. Those casino guys, they’re like dealing with little leaguers compared to what Tubby’s got out on the streets.”
“Oh hell, this really changes things,” Carlos said and I could see him trying to think. Whatever he came up with the odds were now definitely stacked against him.
“What it really changes is, Tubby isn’t the sort of guy to give up. He’ll keep looking until he finds you. And, sorry to say, but he’s not going to be satisfied with just getting his money back. He’s going to want you, too. Not just a piece, Carlos, he’s going to want all of you. You know what I’d do if I were you, Carlos?”
“What’s that?”
“I’d drop the girls and me off on this next corner up here with that pink suitcase and then I would just head out of town. Somewhere you’ve never been, somewhere he’ll never think of looking. And then I’d never darken the streets of St. Paul again, ever.”
“I knew it, I figured you’d want the cash.”
“Really? I tell you what, if you think it will help or if it makes you feel any better you can just go ahead and keep the damned cash, Carlos I really don’t care. But get your ass out of town. Okay? You drop the girls and me off. By the time we talk to anyone you’ll be long gone, anyway. How does that sound?”
“I got an even better idea, two ideas as a matter of fact. First, you can just shut the hell up and then take a right at the stoplight up there.”
Chapter Thirty
Carlos had us heading west on I-94. He turned around and looked out the rear window about every thirty seconds to see if we were being followed. We passed within a half mile of my house at one point, not that I volunteered that information to him. I pulled off the interstate at the Snelling Ave exit then headed south down Snelling past Grand Ave.
He took the phone he’d stolen from that lady with the little white dog from his front pocket and dialed a number. After a very long moment he said, “Hey, wake up, you looking to party? No, it’s Carlos, remember? Who the hell is Donny? I could be, say maybe about five minutes. Well, I might have a surprise for you. See you then.”
He had me take a right onto St. Clair then another right two blocks later into a neighborhood known locally as Tangle Town due to all the curved streets winding through that section of town.
A minute later we pulled in front of the ugliest house on the block, a smaller, story and a half stucco residence that except for the trash bags next to the front door looked abandoned. It was painted a dingy grey with peeling white trim. Given the area, the house had probably been built before the First World War and had been ugly ever since. The grass should have been cut two or three weeks ago and the front hedge should have been torn out two or three years ago.
There was a blank space next to the front door where one of the numbers in the four digit address had fallen off. What was supposed to be a “9” in the address was hanging upside down and looked like a “6.” The front window had six panes, five of which were glass and the sixth held a piece of cardboard.
“You, bossy, get out of the backseat, and come with me, hurry up, now,” Carlos said to Emma.
I turned and looked at her over my shoulder. The girls were still holding one another’s hand.
“It’s okay, I’ll watch Ava, you go ahead, Emma.”
“I got a much better idea, why don’t you give me those car keys and then get the hell out of the car and get over here as well. We’re all going in together. Just one big happy family,” Carlos said then pulled the pink suitcase out and said, “Come on, get moving here.”
I tossed the keys out the door to Carlos. Emma didn’t look too sure, but Carlos was already pulling her out of the backseat. For a brief moment I thought about running away, but we wouldn’t have a chance to make it more than a few feet before he’d start shooting. I climbed out and lifted Ava from the back seat.
“Tell you what, reach into that trunk and pull out those bottles I got in there. It usually works better if I show up with refreshments.”
I reached through the backseat Carlos had slit open and felt around for the bottles. I almost had to crawl into the trunk before I felt them lying in a far corner. I grabbed them and then pretended to continue searching while I pulled the GPS Transponder off the rear of the backseat and shoved it into my pocket.
“Take the kids up to the door and knock, the doorbell’s broken. You’ll probably have to give it a good pounding, she’s not big on visitors and she’s probably been partying for a couple of days. I’ll be right behind you.”
The front door was probably very nice at one time, maybe back a century ago. Now it was in desperate need of a serious cleaning and refinishing. The area around the door knob was coated with twenty or thirty years of grime and the doorknob itself had been turned so many times the brass finish had worn off long ago. Now it was just a cold, dark piece of lifeless steel. The lower third of the door was devoid of any finish and was severely warped where the veneer hadn’t already fallen off after decades of exposure to the elements.
There was a small leaded window in the pattern of a stained glass flower in the upper portion of the door so you could look out and see who was at the door. It was probably charming in its day, unfortunately now it was taped over with a cheap piece of plastic because half the pieces of stain glass were missing. An ancient yellowed window shade, curled and with a ragged tear along the right hand side covered the small window from the inside.
Carlos was right, the doorbell didn’t work. In fact, there wasn’t a doorbell. Three cloth covered wires extended out a hole where the doorbell once sat. I stood on the poured concrete front steps and knocked politely on the door.
“I said pound on the damned thing, or she won’t hear you. This hour she’s probably already half in the bag if she hasn’t passed out all together in front of the TV or isn’t singing along with Pink Floyd.”
I pounded on the door a half dozen times. A moment later the yellowed shade was lifted and a pair of bloodshot eyes stared out at me. They seemed to come alive once they were able to focus on Carlos. A couple of locks clicked on the far side of the door and a moment later the door creaked opened. A cloud of stale, stuffy air drifted out over us and everyone sort of recoiled.
“Carlos, when did you get out?”
“Frannie, we just talked on the phone a few minutes ago.”
“Oh yeah, I kinda remember, sort of. That was you? So you finished the rehab?”
“I just walked away, Frances, that dull life ain’t for me. Hey, how about letting us in,” he said lifting up his two vodka bottles like a prized fish catch, then he pushed me from behind with the Sig Sauer.
Frances stepped back as she pulled the door open and at the same time blew a cloud of blue smoke up toward the ceiling. She looked a good fifteen years older than Carlos, but then again what I suspected might be the lifestyle could have added to that. She was in a ratty sort of housedress with a fistful of Kleenex stuffed in one of the pockets and a pair of grungy blue fuzzy slippers on her feet. Her hair was limp and greasy and hadn’t seen a brush or shampoo in quite some time. She had a good inch of grey roots showing after the last home dye job. Her nose was chapped and raw and she rubbed it with the crumpled Kleenex she held in her fist.
“What the hell is all this?” she asked indicating the girls and me. Then she took another drag from her cigarette, let loose with a raspy cough and flicked the inch-long ash toward us.
Ava wrapped her arms a little tighter around my neck and Emma pulled in closer to my side holding my hand tightly. I l
ooked over at Carlos waiting for him to explain his way out of this.
“Kind of a complication, but nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about. Look at what I brought you, here take these,” Carlos said and handed the vodka bottles over to her.
“Oh boy, aren’t we gonna have some fun,” Frances giggled.
Carlos set the pink suitcase on top of the dirty plates and bowls scattered across the coffee table in the living room. He shoved an overflowing ash tray off to the side and set a bong down on the floor.
He looked up at Frances with a large grin then slowly pulled the zipper around the outside of the suitcase, lifted the top and stepped back. “Check it out, Frannie.”
She leaned in to take a peek and a look of shocked surprise spread across her face, after a long moment she shouted, “What the hell?” She looked back and forth from the currency crammed in the suitcase to Carlos standing there smirking. “What in the hell is all this? You rob a bank or something?”
“Let’s just say I placed a couple of bets and managed to get a little lucky. Hell of a lot better than wasting my time in rehab, don’t you think.”
“This calls for a celebration,” Frances said and gave Carlos a big hug. “Alright you just wait here and I’ll be right back.”
She hurried through a large oak archway into the dining room where the table was covered with a pile of laundry, I guessed dirty. A mound of grocery store circulars and unopened mail littered the end of the dining room table closest to us. Some of the mail had spilled off the table and a second pile was growing on the floor. She set the vodka bottles on the table next to the pile of laundry.
A built-in oak cabinet in the far wall was littered with bottles and glasses. More than one of the glasses had liquid in them and a few cigarette butts. She opened one of the cabinet doors and pulled out two stemmed glasses, the kind for martinis. She blew some dust off the glasses and picked up a plastic vodka bottle from off the top of the cabinet and filled a glass. She emptied the bottle in the process, only halfway filling the second glass.