by Tim Ellis
“A hundred bucks? I seen bigger burgers in the restaurant. A thousand would be nearer to the mark.”
“A hundred twenty-five?”
“Nine-seven-five?”
“One hundred-fifty, my final offer.”
Allegre snorted. “You can take your final offer and –”
“Two-fifty?”
“Make it three hundred, and you might just have got yourself a prize-winning vehickle.”
Rae looked at him.
He nodded. Pretty soon, he’d be a charity case. Diving in dumpsters for rotting food outside Wallmart, and begging for handouts from passers’-by.
Allegre threw him the keys. “If’n it don’t come back in one piece you’ll be buyin’ me a new one, and Allegre knows just the one she wants.”
“It’ll come back without a single scratch on it,” he reassured her.
Allegre cackled. “You must think Allegre’s in the old folks’ home crappin’ through a straw. That truck’ll be a complete wreck when you bring it back. I know you, Mister wreck-it Gabriel, and I’ll get myself a brand new one plus three hundred bucks’ worth of the finest Black Cavendish Virginia money can buy.”
When they found the truck in the parking lot at the back of the hotel, he had the feeling he’d been robbed while he’d been standing there watching. Allegre had stripped him naked, taken what she wanted out of his pockets, and given his clothes to charity. Maybe he should think about getting a rocking chair and a pipe full of tobacco himself.
The truck was a rusty, white 1988 Toyota 4Runner with seats front and back. It desperately needed a new muffler. He wondered if he’d be better going in the Firebird.
“I think you’ve been had,” Rae said as she stood looking at the sorry-looking excuse for a vehicle.
“I’m getting used to it.” He climbed into the driver’s seat.
The passenger door groaned like a banshee as Rae opened it.
When he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine began to cough and splutter, Rae covered her ears and said, “God almighty! This monster should come with a health warning.”
He shrugged. “Your carriage awaits, m’lady.”
She jumped in and closed the door.
The air-conditioning didn’t work, so they had to wind down the windows, but Rae’s window only went halfway.
“I’m depressed again,” she mumbled.
“It just goes to show that down the line there are always consequences to the decisions we make.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you hadn’t made me rent the Firebird, we wouldn’t be sitting here now. It’s your fault, so stop complaining.”
“Maybe I should let you go on your own.”
“Maybe you should.”
But she didn’t get out of the vehicle.
Now, they were sitting outside Oscar Gibson’s workplace.
“If you think I’m gonna use that bucket, you need to see a therapist,” Rae said and crossed her arms.
He smiled. Was it really ten years ago that he’d had a similar conversation about the bucket with Mona?
“What are you going to do then?” he asked her.
“I’m not going to do anything, and even if I were going to do something, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
“Well, don’t think you can get out of the truck and go somewhere else.”
“Can we stop talking about it now, please?”
“Yes we can, but sooner or later you’ll have to take the bucket by the handle.”
“Very funny.”
Oscar Gibson came out of the Revis-Ware Realty office on Julia Street in San Sebastian, which overlooked Evergreen Cemetery, and climbed into his dark-blue BMW.
Tom wrote down the license plate.
“What do ya want that for?”
“I’ll get Mona to run it and see what comes back.”
“I bet she’s happy about working for you.”
“She said that as well, but it’s a two-way relationship.”
“Let’s hope she thinks the same.”
They followed Gibson to his home at 1967 De Haven Street in Lincolnville. With the right kind of binoculars, Gibson would have had a good view over the San Sebastian River.
Gradually, the light began to fade, and the lights in Gibson’s house came on. It was a three-bedroom wood building that had been painted a primrose yellow. It was surrounded with a white picket fence, and there was a veranda to the front.
“It ain’t nothing special,” Rae said.
His face creased up. “In this economic climate, he’s lucky to still have a house, but what surprises me is that you wouldn’t think he had all that money in the bank with a house like that.”
“I don’t think the $17 million in his second account belongs to him, you know. I think the account could just be in his name. He’s keeping the money safe for the people who run the operation. Maybe he’s one of them.”
“You could be right.” He turned his attention to the cell phone in his hand. “So, how does this mechanical contraption work then.”
“Well, for one thing, it ain’t mechanical, and for another, it ain’t a contraption. Welcome to the digital revolution.”
“You didn’t tell me I’d be joining a revolution. I’m not really a joiner, and I’m a bit old for sit-ins and protests.”
“I think you’re more backroom staff than frontline soldier. So, do you want me to show you how this cell works, or not?”
“Go on then, but I’m not promising I’ll remember any of what you tell me.”
She showed him where the “on” button was. “What’s Mona’s number?”
He told her Mona’s extension number at the station.
She keyed it in and held the cell out.
He took it and pressed it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Mona, it’s Tom.”
“I’m still at my desk.”
“I’m ringing you on my cell.”
He heard laughter.
“You sound like a kid with a new toy,” she said.
“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. How are you feeling?”
“I’m a lot better than I was this morning. I’ve got somewhere to go home to, thanks to you. So, are you on stake-out?”
“Yeah. I’ve been having the bucket conversation with Rae.”
“God! I’d forgotten all about that. Don’t remind me. I hate stake-outs.”
“Yeah, I remember. You got anything for me?”
“That license plate doesn’t exist.”
“Which we both know isn’t possible.”
“And yet, there’s no record of it on the Department of Motor Vehicles database.”
“Is it a made-up plate?”
“I rang the DMV and spoke to someone fairly high up the pecking order who said it could be a fake plate, but he thought that was unlikely. He also suggested that it might be a government plate.”
“All government plates are registered, aren’t they?”
“That’s what I thought, but he said there are a few plates that fall between the cracks.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I asked the same thing.”
“And?”
“Apparently, they skip a few numbers now and again.”
“My mouth is hanging open. What happens to them?”
“He wouldn’t say exactly, but he didn’t deny it when I suggested black ops.”
Tom grunted. Plausible denial. He hadn’t heard the term black ops since Vietnam. The CIA were the only government agency authorised to sanction black operations. “Let’s not go there. Why would someone using a non-existent government vehicle to run Rae and me off the road? It doesn’t make sense. My money’s on a dummy plate.”
“Okay, it’s your money.”
“It’s still a shock to learn that there are cracks at the DMV.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know that either.”
“Okay, so the dummy plate doesn�
�t help us. I have another number for you – Oscar Gibson’s.” He read the license plate to her. “Maybe he’s got parking or speeding tickets, which might tell us where he’s been.”
“I’ll run it, and see what comes back.”
“Thanks. So, you know where we are, and that’s a comfort. Goodnight, Mona.”
“Yeah. I don’t suppose you got a bucket with a lid?”
“Nope.”
The line went dead.
“Now what?” he said to Rae.
“It disconnects itself, but you can store telephone numbers on it . . .” She went through the functions one after the other – they had lots of time. It didn’t look as though Oscar Gibson was going anywhere.
After she’d shown him, he practiced until he had it down pat.
“Two things you should remember . . .” She pointed to the power indicator. “That tells you how much battery is left. You have to put it on charge every couple of days, otherwise it’ll die. I do mine overnight, but you might want to do yours some other time. Also . . .” She showed him how to find the credit level. “If you don’t keep topping it up, it’ll die on you. I got ten bucks free when I bought the phone. It costs about forty-five cents per minute. Ya now got three bucks fifty-five left, which ain’t gonna last no time.” She showed him how to top up by credit card, and he put fifty bucks on it. “You’ve now officially evolved,” she said.
Next, they started on the food.
“I thought you knew about food?” she said.
“I do.”
“But all you’ve got is chips, chocolate, cookies, and sandwiches.”
“Everything you need to keep your energy levels up.”
“If I eat any of that rubbish, none of my clothes will fit me.”
“It’s going to be lonely eating all by myself.
She switched on her tablet. “That woman in England says she’s still working on those emails.”
“I can’t see how she’ll ever crack them. Without knowing which book was used . . .” He shrugged.
“Oh well, at least it’s not costing you anything.”
“There is that.”
***
She ran, and ran, and ran.
The dirt track went on and on in front of her. She felt like Dorothy following the yellow brick road. Except, there was no land of Oz over the rainbow, and even though she truly believed there was no place like home, she had no ruby slippers to tap together to get her there.
On either side of her were rows and rows of Hank Giffey’s recently planted crops. Lines and lines of green, all travelling in the same direction as her. The sky was a perfect blue, the sun was falling from the sky, and she was as thirsty as she’d ever been. When was the last time she’d had a drink?
The old man had been kind to her, and she felt sorry that Henry had killed him. When she’d told him what had happened to her, he was shocked and said he’d take her to see the sheriff.
She kept on running, but after having only a couple of hours of sleep, she was flagging.
One time though, at the school sports day, she’d been told to stand in for Penny Griffiths. She was in fourth grade at Hickory Creek Elementary School in East Arlington, Jacksonville, and those kids who had parents with good jobs and money were coming over from Sable Palm School to thrash them.
“I’m a better runner than Penny Griffiths anyway, Mrs. Green.”
“Well, Sally Stackhouse, this is your chance to prove it.”
“Don’t you worry none, Mrs. Green,” Jimmy Seraphin shouted. “If anyone can stop those rich kids from thrashing us, it’ll be Sally Stackhouse. She can run faster than Carl Lewis, than Flash, than Supergirl, than, than . . . me.”
“Thank you, Jimmy,” Mrs. Green said, and smiled. “I have the feeling you’re not impartial.”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Jimmy Seraphin ain’t no impartialer.”
Sally leaned across the desk and planted a kiss on his cheek.
He turned a bright red.
The other kids in the class laughed, but Sally knew that they didn’t know what an impartialer was neither.
“Just wait till your mum finds out you been kissin’ all the boys,” Helen Parnell called from the other side of the room.
Sally jumped up and put her hands on her hips. “I ain’t kissed all the boys. She done know about Jimmy – we’re promised to be married, ain’t we, Jimmy?”
“I thought you promised yourself to me, Jimmy?” Rebekah Snellenberger said.
“All right, children,” Mrs. Green said, holding up her hands for quiet. “I’m sure there’s enough of Jimmy to go round.”
Jimmy grinned. “You bet, Mrs. Green. There’s plenty of Jimmy Seraphin for all the girls.”
“Hey!” Sally had scolded him. “I catch you kissin’ anyone else, and you gonna find yourself in a whole mess of trouble, Jimmy Seraphin.”
Giggles came from the other girls in the class.
Jimmy reached across the desk and took Sally’s hand in his. “You’re the only girl for me, Sally Stackhouse.”
She wondered where Jimmy was now. Was he out searching for her, or chasing those other girls? She glanced behind her, and saw Henry’s truck in the distance.
Oh Lordy!
She ran a little faster, but not for long. How many hours had she been running now? One? Two? Seven? She wondered if anybody had ever run for so long or so far.
Those rich kids had arrived to thrash them, with their matching tracksuits, and their shorts and running vests with numbers and names on. Yeah, they looked like they could thrash any school all right.
Jimmy had whistled through the gap in his two front teeth. “Will ya take a look at that?”
“I hope you’re not lookin’ at that curly-haired, rich girl, Jimmy Seraphin?”
“Which one would that be, Sally?”
“You know very well. I catch you givin’ eyes to her, and I’m gonna squeeze your peanuts like I did before.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Just do it and see.”
She smiled now at the thought. Jimmy didn’t look at no curly-haired rich girl. Jimmy and Sally were forever. One time, down in the woods, Jimmy had carved a heart in the big oak tree with all the other hearts carved on it by other lovers. Inside, he’d etched JS loves SS, and they’d kissed – tongues ‘n’ all.
Henry’s Jeep was getting closer. She could hear him revving the engine, and then . . . nothing.
She threw a quick look over her shoulder.
The Jeep had stopped.
Her heart leapt about.
Maybe he’s broken down. Maybe . . . just maybe she was free at last.
***
He stopped the Jeep.
This was as good a place as any. It was at the top of a small rise. The little tart was running for all she was worth.
Standing up in the cab, he took the rifle and rested his elbows on the top of the windscreen, and then realized he’d brought the night sight. He should have brought both. The night sight was only good at night. During the day, it could have been a triple-layered cheeseburger sitting on top of the rifle for all the good it was going to be, and he wished it was. How long had he been without food now? By the time he got back home, he’d be a shadow of his former self.
The sooner he did what he was going to do the better. He could get back home then and have himself a feast.
He looked along the barrel. He’d just have to do it the old-fashioned way – using the rear and front sights. He aligned the front post sight in the middle of the rear notch and squeezed the trigger.
The bitch was jinking left and right. He’d missed her, and now she was making it more difficult for him. Christ, he should have dealt with this by now.
It was a good thing his father wasn’t alive to see the mess he was making of this simple little job. Out in the woods, when they’d been on the hunting trips, his father had given him rewards and punishments. A reward was for killing the prey. His father would bring him to ejaculation. When
he missed the prey, he had to please his father in so many different ways. To him, as a small boy, there were no rewards – it was all punishment. Even now, the thought of the abuse his father subjected him to made him want to vomit.
Now, he knew it was wrong, but at the time he hadn’t known any better – his father’s word was absolute law. His mother had died in childbirth when he was eight years old, and the little girl she’d given her life for had also died. Thinking back, he guessed they were both lucky. There were many times throughout the years that he had wished he were dead.
He’d lost her. Christ! Where the hell was she now?
He started up the Jeep and began searching again. Up ahead was a wooded area with a pond. The corner of his mouth crept upward. She must think he had the brains of a chipmunk. He put his foot down on the accelerator and raced forward.
Once he’d switched off the engine, he picked up the rifle and put a round in the chamber. Enough was enough. Now, he had no thoughts of letting her live. She had really done her best to piss him off – and succeeded in her efforts.
If he wasn’t feeling so angry, he might have been able to see the funny side to it all. A slip of a girl running rings around a mountain of a man. It reminded him of the Tom and Jerry cartoons by Walt Disney his father allowed him to watch. Yes, he felt just as exasperated as that dumb cat.
He searched everywhere, but she wasn’t there. The longer he looked, the angrier he got. If he’d found her he would have strangled her with his bare hands and watched the light die in her eyes as he crushed the breath from her.
Now what? God he was hungry, and thirsty now, but he couldn’t disappear for something to eat and drink. He’d lose her completely if he did that.
The only strategy left open to him was to circle like a buzzard. Ever-decreasing circles until he had her. As he drove off, the sun was beginning its descent. In a couple of hours it would be dark and that much more difficult.
His wife and children were also due back from her parents soon, and he’d left the trapdoor in the basement open. Time was not on his side anymore. He needed to find little Sally, and he needed to find her soon.
Chapter Twenty
They took turns dozing.