The Rented Mule

by Bobby Cole

  Once Clarence was settled into the room and heavily medicated, Jenny headed back to the hideout to check on the boys. Jesse Ray and Maynard alone with their captive made her nervous. While she drove the hour to the old house, she thought long and hard about everything surrounding this job and was beginning to regret her participation. The cost-benefit analysis had changed over the last day—there was beginning to be too much risk for too little reward. The stress had also caused her to start smoking again.

  Parking her car near the barn, she studied the old house for a long moment. She was surprised and concerned that there was no visible movement in the main room or at any of the other windows. Unlocking the kitchen door, she startled Maynard who had fallen asleep on the couch, reading one of her horse magazines. She noticed a nearby pile of teeth-whitener wrappers.

  “Just what the hell are you doin’?” she bluntly asked.

  “I fell asleep. Sorry.” He responded sheepishly, checking his watch. Motioning downstairs, he quickly added, “Don’t worry. She’s out. We just gave her some more drugs… about an hour ago.”

  “What worries me is that you didn’t hear me drive up. That’s the first problem, and the second is that you’re readin’ my magazine, which means you went into my room,” Jenny stated, pointing an accusatory finger at Maynard.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m really sorry… it’s just that I really like horses.”

  Jenny was taken aback by his response to her anger. “What? You do?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Yeah. Several years ago, when I lived in Hot Springs, I used to walk and warm up horses at Oaklawn Park during racin’ season.”

  Jenny shook her head in disbelief. “What?”

  “Yep, I met this really cool jockey, Otto Thorwarth, who got me the job.”

  Jenny was clearly intrigued and was suddenly curious. “I never figured you for a horse guy.”

  “I really love ’em. I even wanted to be a jockey… but really… I didn’t like going that fast on something that big that didn’t have brakes.”

  “I’ll bet it’s intense.”

  “Oh yeah, but it’s not really for me… so I was happy to just walk and warm up the horses after that. I can talk Thoroughbreds all day—you know, like how they’re pretty much clueless about traditional rein aids and commands. They’ve kinda learned a different language than offtrack horses, ya know.” Maynard was starting to get animated.

  Jenny was surprised by how much Maynard really did sound like Larry King and impressed that he appeared much deeper than she first thought. She wanted to learn more, and she knew that she’d have time over the next several days, but right now she had to make certain that she set clear parameters regarding her privacy.

  Jenny said, “Look, just don’t go in my room. Okay?”

  “I’m sorry. The door was cracked, and I saw the magazine lying on the bed. I needed somethin’ to read. The dial-up Internet connection is molasses slow, and all Jesse Ray’s got to read are geek magazines,” he said, pointing to the kitchen table.

  “You can read my magazines, but my room’s off-limits. Just respect my privacy, and we won’t have any problems. Clear?”

  “Perfectly. No sweat. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I swear.”

  “Okay, where’s Jesse Ray?”

  “He’s in the other room… nursin’ a headache. He said he couldn’t concentrate.”

  “Jeez, this crew’s the walkin’ wounded. I can’t believe this,” she replied, kicking off her shoes.

  “It wasn’t just his head hurtin’, he said he feels like somebody’s watchin’ him. He got a little spooked,” Maynard said with a smile.

  “Watchin’?”

  “Yeah, like a haint.”

  “A haint?”

  “You know, a ghost. They don’t bother me though. I’ve lived in old houses all my life.”

  “This place is haunted?” Jenny asked, looking around carefully. “Clarence will love this.”

  “There’s some weird shit that goes on for sure—lights going off and on, and what sounds like footsteps. What about Clarence? Is he okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but he’s all doped up on some powerful painkillers. He’s got a herniated disk and a huge kidney stone, and when they started talking surgery to install a stint, he started hyperventilatin’. He finally told them to just give him some drugs, and he’d deal with it when he got home. I left him at the hotel to rest.”

  “That don’t sound good.”

  “It’s not. Every one of us needs to be concentratin’ on this job, and he can’t. The pain’s pretty bad.”

  “So… he’s got a stint comin’ out his…” Maynard’s words trailed off with a shutter.

  “No. No. They didn’t do the procedure. It woulda required an overnight stay and about ten grand. Clarence wasn’t gonna pay cash for it here when his insurance will cover it at home. He said all he wanted was pain meds and a case of beer. The doctor laughed and said, ‘Okay on the drugs, but no drinkin’ too.’”

  Jenny tossed her purse on the kitchen table. The toll of her concern for Clarence, their hostage, her cut of the money, Jesse Ray’s busted face and bruised ego, Maynard sleeping instead of pulling guard duty, and now a ghost hit hard and at once. I gotta tighten up this group, but first I gotta get some sleep. I can’t think.

  She paused at her bedroom door and looked back at Maynard, “I gotta get some sleep.” Then she added, “I like Thoroughbreds.”

  Maynard smiled big, showing his white teeth.

  She added, “Keep an eye out for ghosts and don’t screw up or I’ll personally make you a geldin’.”

  “Don’t you worry.”

  He leaned forward just like the real Larry King and said, “Stay tuned: we have a great show tonight!”

  Jenny went into her room and picked up a bundle of blooming honeysuckle and red spider lilies wrapped in bailing twine that were lying on the bedside table. She stuck her head out of the room and said, “Hey, Maynard, who put these wildflowers in my room?”

  “Don’t know,” replied Maynard, clearly smitten. “Musta been the haint.”

  CHAPTER 57

  The Client couldn’t wait to get to work Monday morning—not from a genuine desire to be a contributing member of society, but to keep up appearances. He’d been awake since five and when his newspaper hadn’t yet been delivered, he went to a nearby gas station to buy one. Frustrated with the lack of breaking news about the abduction, he tried to convince himself it was still early in the game.

  He went to his office, hardly able to control his thoughts or his actions. He was a wreck and had begun talking to himself. His coworkers noticed, but no one cared enough to say anything. As was typical, they stayed out of his way and now tried to avoid having any dealings with him at all, if possible.

  Sitting at his desk, he held the small cell phone his hired gun had given him and stared at a small photograph of his obsession. He desperately wanted an update, but fear of the huge man outweighed his curiosity—his last scrap of discretion. I can wait. Just makes it all the more sweeter, he thought, opening his desk drawer to stash the phone and photo. Inside, he saw his prescribed pharmaceuticals and smiled. Don’t need ’em anymore.

  Two weeks off the meds and he felt better than ever, but suddenly everybody was out to get him. Paranoia was his newest companion.

  CHAPTER 58

  It had been a torturous day for Cooper. By the time the kids got home from school, he had convinced himself that Kelly knew everything about Brooke. Donna had called all of Kelly’s friends but to no avail. Cooper had reduced himself to driving around looking for her like she was a lost puppy. He didn’t know what else to do.

  Earlier in the day when Millie arrived to clean house, Cooper avoided telling her about Kelly. He struggled for words to explain his situation—he wanted to tell her everything, to ask her advice, but the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t press him and with quiet resignation, the elderly woman went about her daily duties, worrying abo
ut Cooper as she eavesdropped on several conversations. Millie didn’t believe Kelly would leave Cooper because she was too selfish—she had everything to lose in a divorce. Millie worked at a snail’s pace while within hearing distance of Cooper and fast as a squirrel getting ready for winter when she had to catch up to him.

  Brooke called Cooper midmorning on his cell phone. She seemed stunned and desperate to be helpful, volunteering to do whatever he needed. He hung his head in despair and could only respond by telling her that he was to blame. Brooke didn’t seem to understand and offered empty words of comfort. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, Cooper told her he was really busy and needed to go. He felt guilty for even having a simple conversation with her, and he suddenly didn’t want her number in his cell phone call history.

  Around five thirty in the afternoon—Millie was preparing to leave, Donna was talking to Piper upstairs, and Cooper was sitting in a trance—the phone rang. Cooper jumped to answer it. As he picked up the receiver, he could see that the caller ID displayed Kelly’s cell phone number.

  “Kelly! Kelly!” he exclaimed. Footsteps raced all over the house.

  “Um, no, this ain’t Kelly. My grandmother found this phone while walking at the park, and I saw this number in the memory so—,” a young girl’s voice explained.

  “You said you found it?” Cooper interrupted. He knew Kelly never went anywhere without her cell phone.

  “No, sir, my grandmother found it this afternoon, and it’s pretty smashed up. The battery was out of it, so I put my battery in, and it worked. I know it’s expensive, so I thought you’d want it back.”

  “Yes, I do, it’s my wife’s phone,” Cooper answered, watching every face around him fill with anticipation. “Which park did she find it in?”

  “Vaughn Road. She found it in the grass,” she answered. “She probably dropped it while she was joggin’.”

  “Can I come and get it right now?” he asked.

  Cooper scribbled down the address, hung up the phone, and stood, looking at the faces of the kids he’d disappointed, the sister of the woman he’d betrayed, and a lifelong dear friend, whom he also felt he had let down. Searching a moment for what to say, he finally explained the few new facts but that he didn’t really know what any of it meant.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Cooper, you should call that detective,” Donna said as he grabbed his keys.

  Retrieving the detective’s card from the counter, he dropped it into his shirt pocket and promised to call him. As an afterthought, he asked, “Do you mind staying with the kids?”

  “No. Go, I’ll take care of ’em,” she replied.

  As Cooper backed out of the driveway, he saw Haywood Brown, Millie’s devoted husband of sixty years slowly pull to the curb at the front of the house. He grabbed his BlackBerry to call the detective but hesitated a moment as he reflected on the difference between his life and Mr. Brown’s. Cooper was mortgaged up to his eyeballs and had the façade of a perfect life and marriage. Mr. Brown had married Millie at eighteen, worked in a steel factory most of his adult life, enduring backbreaking labor, and devoted his whole life and being to his wife. They had a small, warm home and didn’t owe a dime or anything to anyone. They didn’t have much in terms of material possessions, but they had an overwhelming love and respect for each other. Neither one ever uttered a complaining word… about anything, ever. They both worked hard, long days. Millie had often commented that a hard day’s work was the best birth control ever invented. He smiled briefly, thinking of the simplicity of their life and love, momentarily forgetting his worries. The Browns had endured their own tragedy, losing their only two children as babies in a car accident. The loss, however, drew them closer to each other.

  Snapping back to reality, Cooper waved at Mr. Brown, dialed the detective’s number, and hit the gas.

  “Detective Obermeyer,” the officer answered with absolute professionalism.

  “Detective, Cooper Dixon. I just got a call from a lady who found Kelly’s cell phone at Vaughn Road Park. I’m on my way to pick it up and thought you’d wanna know.”

  “Vaughn Road Park? That’s interesting.”

  “Yeah well… she walks there most days.”

  “Stand by!”

  “What?”

  “Stand by!”

  “Detective, I’m on my way to pick up the phone.”

  “Two nights ago we received a report of a woman being kidnapped near the park.”

  “What? And you’re just now telling me?!”

  “The facts did not fit your case. The woman was allegedly kidnapped from a gray Chevy Suburban. Moreover, we believed it to be some kind of college prank. The elderly couple that called it in said the alleged perps were Larry King, Sammy Davis Junior, and Oprah. We wrote it off as a joke.”

  “Kelly doesn’t drive a Suburban.”

  “I confirmed that first thing this morning with the DMV. What’s the address of the person who found the phone? I’ll meet you there.”

  Cooper gave him the address.

  CHAPTER 59

  Kelly groggily opened her eyes for the third time since she had been held captive in the cellar. She still didn’t know where she was or how long she’d been unconscious. She became more alert than she’d been allowed the other times she’d regained consciousness. The space was cool. The air musty.

  Struggling to lift her head to read her small watch, she finally determined that it was six o’clock. Is it morning or night, she wondered. By the faint glow of light coming from the top of the stairs, she could make out an old armoire and a bucket with a toilet seat on one side of her. The walls looked to be red dirt. On her other side, she could see a small table near the stairs. On its top were what appeared to be stacks of bedsheets and towels. There were also several brown prescription bottles, small clear glass vials, syringes, full IV bags, and bottles of water and Ensure.

  Her arms and legs felt heavy. She lay still, trying to acclimatize. She wanted to stand but didn’t have the strength. Then she realized that she was bound to a bed. That confused her. Her mind was foggy. She kept staring at the red dirt walls, trying to determine where she was. The IV catheter in her left arm itched, but there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t figure out who was doing this or why, especially why. She vaguely recalled her captors telling her that Cooper hired them. Why would he do this to me?

  She could recall that at all times they were careful not to show their faces. Her blood pressure and heart rate were being checked regularly, and when needed, she would be cleaned and refitted with a new pair of Depends. The best that she could determine, about every six hours, they would try to feed her or force her to drink a warm bottle of Ensure.

  The last time Kelly was lucid, she stared at her IV catheter and the surrounding tape. She tried to think through a plan, but the drugs clouded her judgment. What if I can pull it out enough to… but I’ll bleed, and they’ll catch me, then what will they do to me?

  CHAPTER 60

  At eight o’clock Detective Obermeyer was sitting alone in a diner, drinking coffee, working. Being unattached allowed him to work nearly nonstop, which he did and loved. He had retrieved the missing phone, forced Cooper to go home, interviewed the witnesses to the alleged kidnapping, and searched all of the area around the asphalt walking path at the park where the phone was found and the parking lot. He sipped coffee as he read his notes for the third time. He then prepared a new electronic folder.

  This missing person case had become intriguing. Earlier, he had assumed that Kelly Dixon was a bored housewife looking to get out of the marriage or just have a fling. He knew either might be the case, but as the facts were developing, they started to captivate him. Maybe his excitement was stemming from his own boredom—that he wanted to believe there might be more in play.

  Kelly’s cell phone was expensive, and based on what he had learned about her, it would be out of character—maybe not even in the realm of possibility—to simply leave it some
where, whether intentionally or not. That phone would have been her lifeline—to constantly keep in touch with her kids, their school, their friends and hers, parents, and even her husband or a significant other. Busy housewives tend not to lose cell phones. The fact that the victim was taken from a Suburban was also puzzling. It would be difficult if not impossible to confuse a sleek red Volvo and a barge-sized silver Suburban… unless the Suburban was her lover’s. Cooper could have paid someone to snatch his wife. It’s been done before. The detective made a note to explore that thought.

  Tomorrow, if she hadn’t shown up, Detective Obermeyer planned to go down to Cooper’s office to question his staff. He didn’t suspect Cooper of any wrongdoing, but things were rarely as they appeared. And the Montgomery Police Department paid him to be suspicious. Random violent acts between strangers are rare. Spouses and live-in partners, however, are capable of almost anything. In a case like this, you gotta start with the spouse. Always, he thought.

  While he typed on his laptop, he noticed several teenage punks in a corner booth laughing at him. He was used to it. He had been picked on and made fun of for as long as he could remember. He opened his suit jacket slightly, revealing his service weapon held securely under his left arm by a Galco Miami Classic shoulder holster. The kids left, so he continued his note taking. His cell phone rang.

  “Detective Obermeyer,” he answered, after first clearing his throat.

  “Detective, this is Cooper Dixon. I think we need to go to the media, get Kelly’s picture on the news and see if anyone has seen her or knows anything.”

  “Are you ready for the scrutiny?”

  “I can handle that. What I can’t handle is the not knowin’. This is so unlike her. Finding her phone really concerns me… she never goes anywhere without it. She practically sleeps with the damn thing. There’s no way she’d just lose it. Somethin’ bad’s happened, I know it.”