Blind Luck

  “How do you know my real name?” he asked.

  “I told you to move, not to ask me questions.” This made him take a few uncertain steps towards my hatchback and I nodded. Neither of us spoke until we got back to Al’s car.

  “Get in.” I said, pointing at the driver’s seat, and without lowering my weapon.

  He opened the door and got in. I took the passenger’s seat behind his.

  “Ok Gary,” I started. “Listen carefully. I am about to give you the keys. I will tell you where to go, and you will go there without hesitation. You will not try anything stupid and you will not draw attention to yourself. If I so much as believe that you are thinking about escaping or getting help then you will be shot. But I’m not going to put in your head Gary, I won’t be that merciful. I’m gonna shoot you in the stomach through the back. Because you will experience living fucking hell, before you get to die. Do you understand?”

  “Y-,” He started but his voice cracked. “Y-yes.” He managed to spit out.

  I tossed the keys on the dashboard, and he had to lean forward to reach them.

  “Buckle up, motherfucker. It’s gonna get bumpy.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot and I directed him, one turn after another to my old training center. No one stopped us. We made without any trouble.

  * * * * *

  Al was still up, but everyone else had gone home. I locked Gary in the changeroom, and headed upstairs. He gets to sleep there tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow. I had enough on my mind and I was thoroughly exhausted out. I needed to plan things out before starting the next step of my strategy.

  I went down to the locker room before anyone had arrived, and dragged Gary upstairs. I sat him in the chair across from me and used duct tape to attach his legs to the char legs. I wanted make sure he couldn’t stand up and make a run for it.

  “I saw you in the papers.” he said. “They said you escaped from prison.”

  “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly feel like twenty years in the slammer for your benefit.”

  He snorted but didn’t say anything else.

  “Why did you choose me?” I asked.

  “Any stupid ‘for-hire’ would have done. You just got unlucky.” He said, looking me dead in the eyes.

  I continued staring at him and raised one eyebrow in question.

  “It was so simple. We kill Talisha’s husband, blame you, pocket the dough, and live happily ever after. Wasn’t too complex of a plan.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

  I still didn’t answer. He let out a sigh and slumped his shoulders before continuing.

  “We needed a private investigator. We heard word of some mercenary in Brooklyn who doesn’t back down from any job. We found you when we got a chance and figured if you so much as got your little finger in the case, your past would sell you out. You were supposed to fall in love with Talisha, her husband finds out, you shoot him. It was flawless if you wouldn’t have gone all Clint Eastwood. Righteous doesn’t fit you, you should have taken the bait.” He said, grimacing at me by the end.

  I sat in silence for a few seconds.

  “You know what bothers me, Gary?” I finally spoke. “You got the money, why are you bowling alone? Where is the girl? Shouldn’t you two be on the beach, enjoying the sun and some cocktails?”

  I hit a nerve and I knew it. His smile turned into a frown instantly. He still felt like he had to protect her for some reason though.

  “She has some things to take care of, okay?” He yelled. “We’re going to meet later.” This got my adrenaline up too.

  “Don’t think I’m stupid, man. I wasn’t born yesterday. She left with the money and hasn’t talked to you since. That’s the sad fucking truth.” I was yelling now too, my index finger right up in his face.

  “I’m telling you. She’s just tying up loose ends!” He said, trying to convince himself.

  “Alright then! We’ll wait for here, together, you and I. We’ll wait right fucking here, until she waltzes in. When’s your girlfriend coming back for you?” I was still yelling.

  He simply shrugged his shoulders.

  “You know, you won’t get away.”

  “Oh yes I fucking will. I’m going to personally deliver you to the police and watch you make your own confession. I will sit there while you condemn yourself...”

  I lost it then and there and clocked him square in the face. The chair tipped back, but righted itself.

  “You think you can fuck with me still? You seriously think you can fuck with me, Gary? You think I’ll march in and do the jailhouse rock for your entertainment? Twenty fucking years, Gary, is what we’re talking about. You have no clue what you’ve brought upon yourself. You should have hired that private investigator.”

  “Fuck you.” He yelled and spat blood at me, but missed entirely.

  Some of it went on the floor, but most of it just dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. I leaned in real close.

  “You can try to make this real hard for me, man, or you can make it easy.” I was almost whispering now.

  “You decide: either you tell me what where that bitch went, or play the fool. It’s up to you.” I righted myself to hear his response.

  “Why the fuck should I tell you? You’re a crazy fucking animal! If you end up getting us caught anyway, we lose the money no matter what.”

  He could really make my blood boil. After what he did to me, I was ready to explode.

  “I put four motherfucking people in the motherfucking hospital just to find you, Gary. I will find that crazy cunt whether you help me or not. You can only slow me down. Now here is the situation.” I strode over to the desk and pulled out the Colt I left there last night. I pointed it at his midsection. “I will count to three, and you will either tell me where the fuck she is, or, I will shoot you in the stomach and leave you here to die and I will find her on my own. One.”

  “Don’t point that thing at me. I’ll help if you just stop pointing that thing at me.” His voice was cracking again.

  “Two! Where is she? I haven’t heard the place yet, Gary.”

  “Don’t you fucking point that thing at me. Please! Take it away.”

  “Three,” I yelled and cocked the gun.

  “VEGAS! She went to Vegas.” He screamed and started sobbing.

  “Very good Gary. That’s the cooperation I expected from the start.” I said, my voice returning to a normal volume and smiled at him kindly.

  CHAPTER 7

  My face said I was content, but Vegas was problematic in more ways than just one. One, Vegas wasn’t just a city or two over. It was a long way away, and I couldn’t exactly travel by plane. However, I felt Al’s car wouldn’t survive that kind of trip.

  “Gimme the keys.” I ordered

  “The what? What keys?”

  “To the Cadillac.”

  “What? Why?” His eyes widened as it dawned on him.

  “Oh. No. No. No. No. You can’t be serious, man.

  “We’ll take a trip.” I said, smiling to intimidate him further.

  “No way. Not happening.” He was shaking his head.

  I figured my words wouldn’t do me a world of good here so I rolled up my right sleeve and grabbed him with my left hand. As I drew my right arm back, he finally gave in.

  “Ok, ok.” He reached in his pockets and gave me the keys. “You’re fucking nuts.” He said. I could sense his loathing from his voice.

  Soon enough I was in the back seat of a taxi rolling back into the city. The bowling alley’s parking lot was mainly empty, so we found his car easily again. I pressed the unlock button discreetly in my pocket and heard the clicking of the lock opening. I opened the door and got in the driver’s seat. It was a magnificent beige leather seat. Comfortable, like I was sitting in the middle of a living room, staring at a TV. Except instead of a TV I had a windshield and instead of a remote, I had leather steering wheel at hand. I turned the ignition and started the car. I
left the loft and headed back to pick up Gary.

  The plan was to travel across the entire continent. We were at the eastern coast, and had to go almost all the way to the western coast. A simple 2,500 mile road trip. The only thing keeping us from giving up was the hunter’s instinct. We were too close to give up. Well it was what kept me going. Gary’s mind was either set on staying alive, the money, or a combination of both. We couldn’t go by plane, even if that was the most comfortable and easiest route. A simple flight from the JFK airport, and we could have been there in nine hours, as there were no direct flights. But, since I had been framed and a known fugitive, I was definitely on the no-flight list. Also I didn’t have any of my papers as they were still in my house. Same goes for buses and trains. They were also slower, and time was a luxury I didn’t have. I needed to find Talisha while I was still hot in her tracks. According to my calculations, we could see her again within 48 hours. It was a 35 hour drive, with two stops for rests, and a few others to refill fuel.

  We were past Cleveland by 11 pm, and were getting hear Chicago were we had a room booked right by the highway. We left early in the morning the following day, and it was my turn to drive. I followed all laws and regulations. I didn’t speed once, which I felt was quite an accomplishment on my part. We didn’t stop until high noon, when we needed to refuel both the car, and ourselves. The parking lot was full of transport trucks and the restaurant was full of truck drivers. It was a lot easier to remain inconspicuous in a crowd, so I was glad to find a place such as this.

 

  * * * * *

  It was August 29th, a Thursday. Exactly four days after the murder of the Mr. Kirkwood. I was on the I-70, about 125 miles from my home in Brooklyn and heading even further south, towards Denver. Gary was driving and I was sitting in the luxurious chair next to his. I reclined back as far as I could and holstered the gun in my belt, in case his mind strayed to something stupid. We had spent more than 30 hours at this point, dedicated to travelling towards the west coast. We took shifts driving, so the other could rest and get ready for the next leg. We stopped at a motel last night so we planned to drive through the whole night when traffic was light and we could progress easier. However by dawn signs of fatigue were starting to kick in and I didn’t want to risk any accidents so we decided to stop at the first motel we come by. Luckily we saw signs for a Motel 6 just 2 miles after and exited the freeway. It had an old building, only one floor and it was arranged in a U shape. Gary slowed down and turned into the parking lot. He stopped the car and we got out. We found the main entrance and went inside to the front desk. There was a young male at the desk standing behind a rather battered counter.

  “Good evening.” I said. He nodded but made no further acknowledgement of our presence.

  “A room for two, separate beds, one night.” said Gary, from beside me.

  It cost about only $35 and I peeled the cash out of the wad to place it in front of the young receptionist. He took it and put it in the register before giving me the room keys. Along with the keys, he gave me a look I just couldn’t place. I checked out myself and Gary. I hadn’t shaved for the last four days at this point, and it was starting to get prickly, but I doubt that was anything new to him. Gary was still wearing his bowling shirt. Our clothes were all wrinkly from sitting all day, but nothing too off-beat. So I asked him up front. I wasn’t in the mood to take this from anybody.

  “Watchu lookin’ at?” I asked. He quickly shifted his eyes to the entrance door, and pointed at it with his guestbook. We turned and left to find our room.

  It was an average motel room with two double beds. There was a TV, still one of the old boxes. There was a bathroom by the door with a sink and shower with all the necessary soaps and lotions. There were towels above the toilet and plastic cups on the sink. We agreed on the showering order, set the alarm, and hit the hay.

  * * * * *

  Kevin lived in Gypsum, Colorado ever since he was a child. He applied the hotel fresh out of high school and was working there ever since. It was five years that he had been working there now. He had a day shift that day, starting at six in the morning and clocking out at six at night.

  Everything was going normally that morning. He had switched with the Dave, from the night shift, counted the money in the register and settled in his chair. The events from then on, Kevin would remember for his whole life.

  Within the first hour, the first guests arrived. He heard the call rolling and the typical sound it made as it cruised across the pavement. He heard the engine stop, the doors open and slam shut, and voices as the guests filed in. He couldn’t tell how many there were until they entered the building. There was a taller, thinner man, and a shorter, but wider, black fellow as well.

  “A room for two, separate beds, one night.” Said the shorter one.

  They must have been on the road for days now, you could tell by their clothes. They paid in cash, and Kevin gave them their room key. He jotted down some details in the guestbook, and told them their room number.

  “Watchu lookin’ at?” asked the short one.

  “N-nothing, sir.” Kevin managed to reply.

  “You’re lookin’ at me funny.”

  He reminded Kevin of someone. This black guy, he had seen him somewhere before. He couldn’t place it, but he was certain that the face was familiar.

  The two men left the lobby in search of their rooms and Kevin sat back down in his chair. He turned up the TV, and flicked through the channels to see what was on.

  At about 1 in the afternoon, the two men came back down. They seemed rested, cleaner, and a lot more approachable. Perhaps, the shorter one was just grumpy from driving all night earlier. Those guests typically had an air of annoyance. They asked Kevin to recommend a restaurant nearby, and he gave them directions to a nearby local diner. They thanked him, returned the key and left the motel.

  Not much happened that afternoon in the motel, nothing of any interest until the late afternoon court TV shows. He wasn’t watching it too intently, he was busy making sure all of the details he jotted down about the guests that day, lined up. And he was even more focused on the after-work barbecue party that was happening that night.

  Suddenly, something caught his eye. He looked up at the TV, and his eyes grew wide. He turned up the volume, so he could hear everything clearly. It all made sense now, why the black man from this morning was familiar. He had seen him on TV before. He forgot all about the barbecue for the moment and watched intently.

  He, Kevin, had given a room to a murdered, a prison escapee. The other guy had to have been his partner in crime. He felt lucky to have gotten away without any incident. If they could have tried to kill him too, he would have been helpless. It had been all up to the greater will of God, thought Kevin, that he was still alive.

  The screen showed that the wider man was at large, and that a bounty had been placed on him. Anyone with information on the case was asked to pass on all that they knew to the police. It wasn’t an insurmountable sum of money, but Kevin figured that it was two birds with one stone: he saves peoples’ lives by helping the law catch them sooner, and he gets an early birthday present. The odds of the men coming back here wasn’t too great he thought, so he picked up the phone and dialed the number.

  9-1-1.

  Almost immediately, someone picked up.

  “Hello, 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” came a pleasant, feminine voice through the receiver.

  “Uh, Hi. Hello. I had an encounter with the murderer from the TV show today. He has his partner with him. They stopped here this morning. His name is Roy James. I’m from Gypsum. Bye.” And he hung up.

  He put the phone down, and rested his head on his hands for a while, before looking at the phone aimlessly for a while.

  Had he done something wrong? Did he make a mistake? He told them where he was, and who he had seen. He hadn’t given out his name or the motel’s name for security’s sake. He felt h
e did the right thing, and even if he wasn’t getting the reward he, he had done his duty as a citizen.

  * * * * *

  The air was starting to warm up outside, so I turned up the AC. The cool air came blowing in through the air vents with a soft hiss.

  “So how did you meet?” I asked, trying to make small talk.

  I felt, compared to the fact that I had travelled more in a car with him in the last few days than I had with my mother in my lifetime, I didn’t know him at all.

  “It’s a long story. We have history, Talisha and I.” He said, not even looking my way.

  “I think we have time. Unless you have something more important to do.” I said, making sure he felt a little dumb about that stupid excuse. He sighed in response and shifted to face me a little.

  “It was a long time ago. We met at a youth correction facility when we were still kids. Talisha hung out on the streets rather than going to class. That’s where she started her career. She was a swindler, and the best one out there. Made more money on a good day than kids made in a month of delivering newspapers. Who could predict that a cute, innocent looking little girl was capable of pulling on over their eyes? It was her perfect weapon. She eventually did get caught, and they took her in. That’s where we met.”

  “What were you in for?”

  “Just a bit of a joke gone wrong. My friends bet that I didn’t have to balls to break into a car. A cop happened to be nearby, and I was caught. I was taken in, and if you look at me it won’t be hard to guess that I was beaten pretty often. As soon as a bruise healed, another took its place. I couldn’t catch a break, until Talisha showed up. She felt bad for me. She started talking to me, and as soon as she did, the beatings stopped. I don’t know what she did but I’m grateful to her forever.” He said.

  His voice got lower and slower when he got to the end. I thought he was gonna break into tears.

  “And after that?” I asked, hoping to get him to move onto another stage of his life, where he cried less.

  “We got to leave. Almost at the same time. I moved as soon as I got out. I wanted to start a new life in a new city. That’s when I left Brooklyn. We didn’t talk for years, until one day she just decided to call me.”