Tag Archives: Caught

Chapter Sixty–Six: Reprise

19 Jul
Now you know one reason my daughter's picture is here. But wait, there is more.

Now you know one reason my daughter’s picture is here. But wait, there is more.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.  Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.
Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

Peaches tied Wilbur’s hands and feet securely. She also thought his name was Wilbur, because she had not yet looked at the ID in his wallet. Once she saw it had neither money nor credit cards, she quit looking. She went back behind the bush where she had gotten it, replaced the rifle in its waterproof container and rehid it. Who knows. It came in handy once, it might do so again.

She had no place she could go, no place she could take them, except back to the cabin where it all began. The cabin where she had discovered her true calling in life. Murder by torture. She smiled at the thought. The smile showed no hint of the evil lurking behind it.

In reality she wanted to go back. It had so many good memories, going back to her childhood, and recent memories. For her the cabin was where it all began. It was where she learned to play hide and seek, where she learned how to swim, where she mastered the art of jumping rope, and where she made her first kill.

On the way she stopped at another stash point and picked up a Smith and Wesson snub nosed .38 revolver. By the time they reached the cabin the light was fading and night was commencing.

Peaches was five foot seven and a half inches tall and athletic. Dragging L C Into the cabin, up the stairs, by her feet was not the easiest thing she ever did, but it was done in a decent amount of time. L C, equally as athletic, was heavy for her size and shape. Once inside Peaches rested a minute and took stock. Lonnie was going to be a different story. She decided to cut his feet loose and let him walk. Once decided she went into the kitchen, found a knife in the usual place, and headed out the door. Not looking at L C.

The minute L C found herself back in the cabin she began to try to formulate a plan of escape. She knew the layout by heart. The broken window, on the other side of the room from her, let out on the downhill side. Somewhere down there was a road. Feet tied together. Hands tied behind her back. Getting to the window would be a trick. Getting up and out the window would be another. Ballet and tumbling. She knew she was limber enough to slide her tied hands down her butt, past her legs, and get them in front of her. But what good would that do? And if Peaches came back and saw L C’s hands in front of her — There would never be another chance.

L C Pushed her back up against the wall furthest from the broken out window. Inch by inch by inch she pushed herself to a standing position with her back against the wall. Twice she almost fell over on her side, but managed to catch herself.

Lonnie walked into the room, followed by Peaches.

Peaches barely glanced at L C She shoved Lonnie down on his face, placed the gun on the floor beside her, and took out a rope to tie his feet.

L C took a deep breath. “Now or Never.” She told herself.

Rolling her head forward, letting her hands slid down her back, past her butt, below the backs of her knees, L C began to roll as the back of her neck came into contact with the floor, and her feet slid out through the rope. When she came up out of the roll her hands were now in front of her, reaching for the windowsill. Grabbing it she pushed herself through into another long roll.

Peaches realized L C had moved and looked at her. What she saw was L C’s tied feet disappearing through the window.

She grabbed the gun, ran to the window and fired two shots. She saw a shadow disappear amongst other shadows. She fired again, taking more careful aim. No result. Cussing, Peaches climbed out the window and headed downhill.

Lonnie saw Peaches climb through the window. He realized his legs had not been actually tied. They just had a rope wrapped around them. Not having L C’s limberness, Lonnie had an extremely difficult time getting the rope off and then standing. There was no way he could get his hands in front of his body.

L C kept rolling. She suffered scrapes and gouges, but she kept rolling end over end until she reached undergrowth. She knew no matter how fast she rolled a person on foot, running, could catch her. When she found a bush in the blackest shadow of the black shadows, she swung her body parallel to it and stopped. Behind her now she could hear her pursuer. Every part of her body ached. She could hear her own ragged breathing. To make herself as small as possible she curled into the fetal position.

Lonnie knew he could not go through the window as the women had. He backed up to the front door and managed to turn the knob and pull it open with his hands still behind his back. Once outside he ran wildly downhill.

Her pursuer was not running full-bore. She was trying to listen as she moved. She was so close she almost stepped on L C When she strained her vision she could almost see a darker shadow standing almost over her.

They heard the sound of a runner crashing through the brush and limbs at the same time. When Peaches raised the revolver from her side up to aiming position a light glinted off the tiny barrel. “She thinks it is me,” thought L C “It must be Wilbur.” L C was already in the fetal position, like a coiled spring. She judged where she was sure Peaches body was located and kicked outward and upward.

She felt her feet strike a soft body. The revolver went off wildly. Lonnie, unable to stop, or slow, his momentum, smashed into Peaches. The two of them went tumbling. The revolver fired again.

Lonnie lurched to his feet and blindly took off running downhill.

Peaches swore under her breath. Stood over L C And pulled the trigger twice. It simply clicked. Click. Click. On empty cylinders.

L C in spite of herself said, “I thought you only fired five shots.”

“Idiot.” Peaches yelled. “This isn’t the old west. It’s a Smith and Wesson. It only holds five shots.”

Peaches pocketed the revolver and began to hunt for something to club L C With. L C figured kicking out from the fetal position worked once it might work again. She did. It did. She heard a yelp of pain.

L C began dive rolling downhill again. She did not hear any sound of pursuit.

She kept rolling and rolling endlessly until she finally rolled out onto an asphalt road, was suddenly splashed in a glare of headlights, and heard the squealing of brakes that were being desperately applied, then the squeal of tires sliding on the asphalt out of control.

© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Sixty — Four: Three To Get Ready

22 Jun
Now you know one reason my daughter's picture is here. But wait, there is more.

Now you know one reason my daughter’s picture is here. But wait, there is more.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.  Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.
Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

They had been silent for a while, when Peaches turned to L C “You are way too cocky, you know that?”

L C stared at her blankly.

“Yeah. You think some superhero is going to come busting through the wall any minute and save you, don’t you?”

L C Frowned. She had been wondering exactly what Wilbur was doing at the minute. Had he called the police? Was he following them? Hopefully he was doing both. For a second she felt a small fear Peaches could read her mind. Could she somehow know?

Peaches smiled. She pulled the car over. “I have something I need to do, do you mind. You know. I have to pee.” She wrinkled her nose at L C.

L C did not like the situation. Should she talk and try to get information to Wilbur? What? They were stopped? If he were listening he should know that.

Wilbur, aka Lonnie, did not know that. He wasn’t listening. He had placed the recorder on the passenger seat and had ignored it from then on. It had not occurred to him to go to the police. All of his life the one group of people Lonnie never went to, never confided in, was the police. He had followed the car. He was compelled to do that, even though his knees were shaking. He had no thought beyond that one goal. Keep the car in front of him in front of him.

When it went on a back road he went on a back road.

When he turned the corner and the car was stopped in front of him he slammed on the brakes in confusion. There was only one person in the car. In the passenger seat. It had to be L C.

His first thought was to get out of the car, grab L C and run. His second thought was to back the car up and get out of there now. While he wavered between the noble and the cowardly things to do, something appeared next to his window. When he looked he almost passed out.

Peaches had known there was the possibility she might become a suspect at some point. So she kept nothing where it could be directly associated with her. She stashed different things in different places. Places that would be easy go get to but unlikely to be found by someone else. Money, clothing, whatever she might need. She had decided to become the ultimate girl scout, or the ultimate ninja.
She had given thought to the idea that someday she might be followed by someone she would want to trap. So she buried the rifle in a waterproof container in the perfect spot to trap someone.

Lonnie.

He stared at the rifle barrel pointed at him as though it were a cobra and he were hypnotized.

Peaches had been sitting behind the bush when Lonnie drove up and when he pulled parallel to her she simply stood up, smiling, pointing the gun at his nose. She enjoyed his expression of disbelief and horror. She knew he was going to be fun to kill. Slowly.

She motioned him out of the car. He did. She motioned for him to turn around. He did that too. When he did she hit him with the barrel of the rifle. While he lay moaning on the ground she tied his hands behind his back. She searched his pockets, found nothing of real interest. No money, no drugs, no weapons.

Just a wallet. She pocketed it without looking at the Id.

“Get up. Get in the backseat of my car.” He complied. “Stretch out on your stomach.” When he did she tied his feet together. “You can just lay there until we get where we are going.” He tried to look around so he could see her. When he did she shoved the barrel of the rifle in his nostril. He pulled his face away quickly. Peaches laughed, a sweet, tinkling laugh.

He asked, “Was it you in the cabin with us?”

Peaches leaned over and asked in a breathy voiceless whisper, “Why honey? You want me to audition?”

Lonnie began to cry.

Peaches went back to the rental car.

Still no guns. No money. No drugs.

Peaches decided that in the future, when she chose victims, it would be ones who could supply her with things she could use.

At first she wondered what the object in the front seat was. It looked like it could have been something on the order of a cell phone or a generic music player. When she picked it up she heard Lonnie and L C talking.

“Did you call the police?”

“The police. Lady do you know how many warrants I got out on me? Course not. Even I don’t know how many warrants I got out on me. I can tell you this. They wouldn’t listen to me. They’d book me. End of story.”

“Wilbur, I think we are in trouble.”

“You sure as hell are,” chuckled Peaches to the recorder.

© 2015, All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Five: And Lonnie Makes Three

7 Dec
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Lonnie did not turn the pickup lights on. He traveled over the hill in near darkness. He would like to have gone faster but felt being unseen was the best card he could play in the situation.

 
Patience did not come easily. Luckily the pickup was new, silent, and dark colored. There were a lot of back roads up here, they led in a lot of directions. If it were not for he fact he had a prisoner stashed in a closet in the safe house going over the top of the hill would not have been the most reasonable thing to do.

 
On the other hand, simply because it would be unreasonable, it would also be unexpected.

 
Coming at the house, not uphill from the road, but downhill from the hill itself, Lonnie coasted the last two miles. Catching the person in the ninja suit by surprise. They had been listening for an engine, not the small hiss of rolling tires.

 
“Keep quiet,” said the breathy voice, “or I will shoot you first.”

 
L C’s heart began to race.

 
Footsteps could be heard on gravel, up the creaky steps, across the porch. The front door opened. Steps entered. The door was not pushed shut. Steps sounded down the hall, around the wall, and proceeded to the closet. There was fumbling. The closet door opened.

 
Frantic movements followed. A man’s voice cussed.

 
“She is behind you.” A breathy voice said.

 
Lonnie stepped back and spun around quickly trying to find the source of the voice. So Quickly he collided with L C and the chair she was tied to. He tried to grab hold of it to steady himself. Instead he grabbed L C’s face. She pulled it out of his grasp, pulling off the blindfold in the process.

 
Lonnie, chair, and L C crashed to the floor.

 
L C did her best to keep her wits about her, to try to understand where she was and what was happening. Lonnie just groaned.

 
“That is pathetic,” said the breathy voice.

 
Lonnie struggled to rise up. When he did so the voice continued, “I have a gun. I will use it. Don’t try anything smart or you will die before we have a chance to chat.”

 
Lonnie began to shake. Starting with his chin and finding a home somewhere in his knees. Wild eyed he searched the darkness for the source of the voice.

 
“Pick her up.” Lonnie looked around. There was some lighter patches of dark. He searched them.

 
“In the chair fool. Pick her up.”

 
Lonnie moved, bumped the chair with his foot. Struggled to set L C upright. Eventually he succeeded.

 
“Tell me,” ordered the breathy voice, “who you are and why you are here.”

 
“My, my name. My name is Wilbur Daggit. I’m Cody Daggit’s brother. You people killed my brother.”

 
There was a pause before the breathy voice continued. “You people? Explain?”

 
“I know you people are with the CIA. I know you had my brother killed. I know this is a safe house. I followed all of you here. I know. I know.” Lonnie began to sidestep back and forth, one side to the other. “Cody was working for Mr. Penn. A CIA agent who brought Cody here a couple of times.”

 
Another pause. Then the breathy voice asked directly, “Are you on drugs?”

 
“Hey, man, I’ve cut way back, dude. Way back. And only the good stuff. Drugs got nothing to do with what I know. I know Cody was setting up spy equipment for you guys, for the CIA, and he learned too much and you killed him.”

 
“Spy equipment here? In the safe house?”

 
“Yeah. For the guy who got who got killed here. The newspaper called him something else, but his name he told Cody, was Mr. Penn.”

 
Whatever the breathy voice from the darkest corner of the room was going to say next was cut short.
Something lunged panting onto the porch. Long toe nails scrapped across the wooden floor of the hallway and rounded the corner.

 
From out of nowhere the dark, shadowy shape of a german shepherd appeared. It was headed for lonnie, but the person in the ninja suit reacted before it realized that fact. Shot. There was a flash. There was sound as the bullet left the barrel. Another sound as the dog howled in fury and turned toward the person who had wounded it.

 
Harry had been following the pickup for miles, intent on the driver, Lonnie. The pain, the attack, from the darkest corner of the room came as a complete surprise. However he did not hesitate.

 
Two shadows formed in front of the window, which was only minimally lighter than the rest of the inside of the cabin. Then they blended to one. There was a growl, a human yelp, some scuffling and cussing, then a human shape went out the window. The animal tried to follow, but was too wounded.

 
The dog whined and lay breathing heavily. Someone could be heard running though the woods.

 
Lonnie grabbed the back of the chair L C was tied in and drug her out the front door. It took some effort but he hoisted her into the back of the pickup, her and the chair laying on its side. As he put the gag back in her mouth L C told him, “The dog. Get the dog. You can’t leave it here.”

 
“Okay, okay,” Lonnie said and did as he was told, laying the dog alongside of her just before he closed the tailgate.

 

 

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Four: The Hunters

16 Nov
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Lonnie barreled along the dirt road as fast as he dared without getting stuck or jammed up. He cussed when he realized it led him right back to the asphalt again. Somehow in his haste he had missed the turn that would have taken him up and over the mountain to the safe house on the other side.
Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter. He knew where he was at. There was another road just north of here. If he could just reach it before the cops spotted him.
Luck was not Lonnie’s lady. He no more turned onto the dirt road than a cop car sped past. He saw it in his rearview mirror. He hoped it had not seen him. That hope was dashed as soon as he thought it. He could hear the squad car squealing to a stop and the brakes complaining.

Still he had a head start. By the time the cops turned around, found the road he entered, and started after him, precious minutes would have been lost for them and gained for him.

In addition he had been up this road before. They probably had not.

So he sped. Confident he was gaining.

The problem was the car. The gas was low. It was overheating. A bumper was dragging against a tire, and every time he went over a bump the oil pan threatened to rip off. This thing he had stolen was a chick mobile. What he needed was a tank. No car was built to take the punishment he had given it, and this car was designed to run only on paved roads.
He whipped into a clearing. Two men and a dog were there. They were standing away from their pickup.

The rifles were leaning against the pickup. Not even close to their reach.

Lonnie spun the car around in circles, bringing it to a sliding sidewise stop. The two men, and the german shepherd, stared at him as though he were crazy. Lonnie opened the door. Grabbed the rifle he had used to shoot at the helicopter, and pointed it at the men.

“Hands up. In plain sight.” Lonnie cussed at himself that his voice, instead of having the strong masculine tones of authority he wanted, betrayed him by sounding high and squeaky. Had he realized his voice was so nervous, so out of his control, so high pitched, that the two men thought he was a nervous young woman he might have been somewhat relieved. What he wanted at the minute, even more than an image of calm masculinity, was to remain unidentified.

The german shepherd started toward him. Its owner ordered it to stop.

Lonnie told them to lay down on the ground. They did. The german shepherd stretching out next to his owner, keeping an eye on Lonnie’s every move.

Lonnie grabbed all the drugs and guns out of the car. That was when he noticed the rip in his gloves. “Dammit.” He hoped to hell he hadn’t left a finger print in there somewhere. No time now. He ran over to the pickup. Threw everything in it.

Praise Jesus the key was in the ignition.

As soon as he disappeared out of sight the german shepherd ran after the pickup. “Harry,” screamed Dick at the top of his lungs, but it had no effect. The two men ran to their guns laying in the dirt, picking them up.

As they did so half a dozen police cars pulled into view. Surrounding them and the wreckage of a car.

Doors opened.

Rifles pointed at the two men.

A bullhorn announced, “Move slowly. Drop your weapons immediately or we will shoot.”

Tom glared at his brother-in-law. “I swear to God every since my sister married you and that damned dog there has been nothing but trouble.”
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty —One: A Mouse In The House

5 Oct
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

The person in the black ninja suit sat contemplating the room, savoring the memories of their first kill. Savoring the tortures they had committed, the expressions of pain and dismay on the face of the victim. A victim the killer felt deserved every second of pain and misery they received.

This time there was a distinct thump. Not a scratch.

The ninja rose. Pulled out a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson five shot revolver. Quietly, on padded feet, the ninja went along the wall, following it until they found the handle to the closet.

Inside the closet L C did not hear a sound. She had no clue if anyone were within a thousand miles.

Quickly opened the door.

There was a strangled noise as a bundle fell out on the floor.

The ninja took out a flashlight wrapped in layers of black cheesecloth. Enough light shown for close up inspection, but was hard to see even a few feet away.

Right now it played across L C’s face.

The ninja had spent a lot of time practicing talking using all breath and no voice. A whisper, it carried no clue as to the sex or voice of the person using it. With practice a person can make the whisper carry without strain.
“And what have we here? All tied up and ready for … What are you ready for?”

L C lay on her side, tied to the chair, her face to the floor, unable to answer. Gagged and blindfolded, only aware that this could not be the person who put her in the closet in the first place.

The breathy voice continued. “I know who you are. You are the Davenport girl. The one the police say committed murder right here in this cabin.”

It was the first time L C knew where she was at. She tried to see who was in the room with her, but the darkness and the ninja suit did its job well. The complete breathyness of the voice did its job just as well. All L C could tell was there was a human being in the room with her.

The human being hauled the chair upright with no sign of gentleness. Reached over, grabbed the duct tape covering the gags in her mouth, and yanked hard. To L C it felt as though her skin was being ripped from her face. She tried to yell but gagged on the cloth that had been shoved into her mouth. Those also were pulled out without ceremony.

L C was crying and sobbing, largely incoherent.

The ninja did not hurry her. There were other things to think about. On the surface this was a pure gift. The woman accused of the murder the ninja had committed sitting here like a spitted goose just waiting to be cooked.

On the other hand who, besides the person who had committed the murder, would want to tie her up and have her at their mercy?

Who would bring her here?

Why?

Killing the Davenport woman and hiding her body would be the perfect answer. No trial, no questions, no one probing around. Everyone would believe she had skipped the country.

Except the person who put her here.

The person in the ninja suit slapped L C, hard. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

L C could not understand why the person was whispering. “In the trunk.”

The person in the ninja suit was certain there had been no cars in the vicinity when they entered the cabin. Nevertheless they left L C in the chair and went out the front door to look. There were no vehicles anywhere.

Once back L C had calmed down.

Remembering to speak with all breath and no voice, the person in the ninja suit asked, “Someone brought you here and just left you?”

“Yes.”

This was going to take some serious thought.

The expedient thing to do was to simply kill her and dispose of the body where it would not be found. The most pleasurable thing would be to get her somewhere where she could be tortured at leisure.

There was a problem with either plan.

There was no car. No vehicle. Ninja like, the murderer had hiked in. There was no way to get either her living body, or her dead body, away from here easily without detection. Dragging her body across the ground would leave marks that would be almost impossible to cover over. Wouldn’t even need a forensic team to find it. A dog or a sharp detective could unravel everything.

Plus the other thing. Someone had left her and was no doubt planing on coming back.

At the minute it seemed absolutely essential to know who that someone was and why they had tied her up and left her here. The only answer the ninja could think of was “There is another serial killer running around here.” The question was would this other killer be someone who would want to work together, or someone who would be an implacable enemy.

“I have to know.”

 
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Forty — Eight: Caught

16 Aug

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

 

Lonnie figured out he needed money, a legal car he could drive, and he needed to get rid of this hot car. Not a problem. A forty-five minute drive to the chop shop and by morning he’d be all set.

He was still thirty minutes away from the chop shop when he saw the red light behind him. He was still in the same heavily wooded area. An area he would have never known existed had he not discovered the safe house used by the CIA. Now he knew the area well. He had been prowling around it since the day he discovered it.

That was when he took stock. That was when he wished he had continued to follow all of the advice Cody had given him.

That was when he wished he had applied it to this day, this trip, this car, if to no other.

Cody told him never to steal a car when he was high, stoned, or even had a drink. Right now Lonnie had enough crap in him to overdose any three people who hadn’t built up a tolerance to it.

Cody told him to never have drugs in a stolen car with him. And to search it as soon as possible. If the car had drugs in it to stash them. Right now Lonnie had enough drugs in the car to be legally called a dealer.

Cody told him never to be in a car longer than it took to get rid of it. An hour at the most. Right now Lonnie had been driving it around for almost eight hours.

Cody told him never to have a weapon of any kind in a stolen car. Not even a pocket knife. Lonnie not only had one in here he had gone back to his house to get it and had promptly forgotten it. Right now it was shoved under the armrest.

Cody told him to never commit any other crime while in a stolen car, unless it was only stolen to get him to the crime scene and away, to protect his identity. Then ditch it as quick as possible.

Did kidnapping count?

At least she wasn’t still in the trunk.

Oh, shit. His mind raced. If they caught him now he was not going to get out on bail any time soon. Oh, shit. She was all tied up like one of those rolled roasts you see in the meat section. Then she was tied to the chair and he did it all over again. Oh, shit. Then he locked her in that damn closet and all but nailed the damn thing shut. Oh, shit, shit.

She was going to die in there.

Oh, shit.

The cop car was catching up. The lights were reflecting inside the roof of the car now. He could hear the siren’s wail.
Unless he told them where she was. He would have to tell on himself. Car theft. Weapons trafficking. Drug dealing. Kidnapping. Oh, shit. Kidnapping a CIA agent. Terrorist activity. He wouldn’t even be entitled to a phone call or an attorney or any American rights.

Oh, shit.

To save her life he would have to tell. If he told he would never see daylight again the rest of his freaking worthless piece of shit life and he couldn’t even get high to ease the pain.

Oh, shit.

How had things gone so wrong so fast?

One thing was sure. He could never tell them about the woman in the closet in the cabin. If he got caught she was on her own. She was going to die in there. Die a slow death of thirst and starvation. That would have to be an awful way to die. Slow and miserable.

He was going to feel badder than hell about that.

 

Chapter Four: Cody

20 Apr
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think reason should make sense go to TheMapThinker.com

 

 

 

Cody was thin, as many drug users are. He was also a reader. What he liked to read was true stories about people who broke the law and got caught. If Cody had a talent it was not getting caught. The police knew he used, everyone knew he used. But no one could catch him with anything on him. Everyone knew he never worked, but he always had money. Not a lot of money, but he always had just enough.

One thing Cody never did was to go around bragging to people. But Lonnie wasn’t people. Lonnie worshipped Cody. A worship Cody basked in. He enjoyed impressing Lonnie with all of his knowledge and skills.

He taught Lonnie how to steal cars. He taught him where to sell the cars after he stole them.

But you don’t keep stealing cars. Pretty soon someone will be watching for you. So he taught Lonnie how to disable burglar alarms by deactivating them at the phone lines. Taught him how to enter houses, not by windows or doors, but through shafts where the swamp coolers were.

The beauty of it was, once the burglary was accomplished, the swamp cooler replaced, the phone line reconnected, there was no evidence of forced entry.

People invariably blamed the theft on a family member. Often the crime was never reported to the police.

Still you did not want to keep doing it too long.

Drugs was a third way to profit. Dealers got caught because it was their business. They did it all the time. Sooner or later they sold it to the wrong person, or one of their buyers got in a bind and rolled over on them. Cody got in and out quick. Buy a bunch. Roll it over to known buyers. Get rid of it. By the time the cops got on to you, if they ever did, you were clean. No evidence of anything.

And once your stock was gone deny, deny, deny.

Cody, who made a point of never revealing anything to anyone, loved to impress Lonnie. And today he had something to impress him with.

Lonnie was a special case. He did everything Cody told him to do. He did it just the way Cody told him to do it. He did it when Cody said to do it. When Lonnie was around Cody felt like a God who could walk on water. And he knew that if belief alone could make it so, Lonnie’s belief would have enabled him to do it.

Cody was thin. Lonnie was thinner. Cody was tall. Lonnie was taller. Cody had dirty blonde hair. Lonnie had dark brown, almost black hair. To an observer they could have been brothers.

Guess who gave me a call today?”

“Somebody with some good stuff?”

“Better.”

Lonnie thought hard. “That chick you were hoping to get?”

“Almost as good as that.”

“I’m out. I dunno.”

“Remember Mr. Penn?”

“The CIA agent?”

“Lonnie. Don’t be blatting that around. You know he can’t confirm or deny any association with The Company.”

Lonnie was impressed. Cody basked like a seal in the sunlight.

“Special electronics job. Gonna get at least five hundred dollars out of it. And it will only take me a couple of hours.” Cody let the amounts sift in to Lonnie so he could get his full admiration before continuing. “He is going to take me up to the safe house to do it in a day or two.”

“Wow.” Lonnie only dreamed that one day he could be as over the top as Cody.

 

 

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