* * *
The next morning we went to the quarry without a plan and waited by the rock until everyone arrived. We reached down and hoisted the rock up to pull the bag out.
“What the hell!” John screamed. “It’s gone. That can’t be.”
Each of us surveyed each other with a wisp of suspicion, we all had our reasons foe needing the money, but to cheat a friend was not something any of us would do.
Frank reached in the hole and snatched a piece of paper up that was lying at the bottom. He opened it. “It’s a note. Keep quiet about the money. Be smart and live longer.” Frank grunted, “Now we really need a plan.”
Mike dropped to his knees. “There goes my chance to get away.”
I rubbed the back of my head. “I was going to use that money to take some courses in writing.”
“That blew my chance to get a car.” Frank put his hands on his knees.
“Stop bitching.” John huffed. “What are we gonna do now?”
“There’s not much we can do.” Frank said. “The money’s gone, but at least we’re in the clear.”
Dejected we walked back to town. A slow and quiet walk, even with
Mike., usually, we could never shut him up.
We all headed back home. When Mike walked past the hardware store on the way to his house, he saw a stranger enter. We didn’t see a lot of strangers here. This was not a town where people spent their free time. Peculiar enough that Mike wanted to check it out, so he followed him.
Mike pretended to shop, but Charlie, the store owner watched him closely, because he knew the locals that had money, Mike wasn’t one. The stranger gathered up some camping supplies and flashed a hundred dollar bill at the checkout counter.
Seeing that, Mike said, “Wow, mister I’ve never seen that much money.” Mike never shy about speaking his mind asked. “How’d you get it?”
“I’m an adventure seeker. People pay me to find things.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m good at it and highly paid.”
“That’s cool. I’d like to do that someday.” Mike smirked. What a jackass!
Mike left but sneaked around the corner of the building to watch the guy as he left. He walked down the street to the hotel. A couple minutes later he and another guy came out carrying scuba tanks and put them into the trunk of a car. It was the same car we spotted at the quarry parking lot.
Instead of going home, Mike came to see me. “Kevin, I saw the guys from the quarry. One guy paid for stuff he bought with a hundred dollar bill.”
“It could be a coincidence, not everybody is poor like us.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but it seems suspicious.” Mike’s hands fluttered in the air, which he did frequently when excited, “And he was a real jackass.”
“Oh a jackass! Well that cinches it. He must be guilty.” I grinned. “Based on that information half the townspeople are guilty.”
“Seriously, I know they’re the guys who took the money.” Mike paced. “There must be a third guy involved, the one that saw us hide the money.”
“So, what are we supposed to do about it?” I asked.
“They’re staying at the hotel,” Mike said. “Lets check their room for clues.”
“You mean, break into their room?”
Trying to soften the comment, Mike said. “Just nose around in their room. Hmm! let’s see what the guys think.”
* * *
The car was pulled out of the quarry and the woman’s body taken to the coroner. She was shot three times with a small caliber handgun, dead before the car plunged into the water. The small town police now had a murder on their hands. They never dealt with a murder and knew they were in over their heads.
The waterlogged ’67 Malibu was registered to Lindy Thomas from Illinois. She worked in the entertainment business as an agent. Small time compared to many, she had moderate success. Just not successful enough to have thirty thousand cash in the trunk of her car, but the police had no knowledge of any money at that point. They needed to speak to the divers but they had no luck locating them.
* * *
You could see Frank’s eyes widen when Mike explained the plan, “You wanna do what?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Mike insisted.
John stood shaking his head, “Really, cause it sounds pretty bad.”
“We need to find out more about these two guys.” Mike ran his hands through his hair. “We’ll be in and out in no time, but we need your help to be the look out and distract the clerk.”
Reluctantly Frank and John agreed. John would be the lookout and Frank would distract the clerk, while Kevin and Mike rummaged through the room looking for clues.
Frank insisted this was a bad plan especially for him, being the oldest. Kevin agreed with Frank but told him it was the only way they could find the money.
As they walked toward the hotel they saw the clerk emptied a trashcan into the dumpster and grumbled loudly about the suspicious out-of-town guests. They had frequent one-hour guest but not many out-of-towners.
The waited until he left before looking at the trash he just tossed.
“Lift me up.” Mike grabbed onto the metal container.
We hoisted him up and he jumped in. Mike stood up after a minute holding a bunch of papers. “It’s what we were looking for without a breaking and entering charge.”
* * *
Two officers showed up the hotel to ask questions about the strangers. The desk clerk didn’t know anything, except they were gone, didn’t even check out, must have left town. He was upset because they left a mess for him to clean up, a lot of papers, even a map with markings all over it. He pitched it all in the dumpster. When the police went to take a look at the trash the evidence was gone.
The clerk scratched his head and motioned to the officers, “All I can tell you is that it was here earlier. There were some kids noising around, but why would they want it.” He threw his hands up and walked away.
* * *
When we spotted the police car we drug Mike out of the trash container and scattered, relieved that we found something and we weren’t caught. The most useful item we found was the map, as well as a name we all recognized. The local celebrity, a country singer by the name of Tad Wilkins, he went by the nickname Wilkie. The mansion he owned covered twenty acres and had massive iron gates decorated with two polished stainless-steel guitars at least eight foot tall. The necks of the instruments crossed when they were closed. So easy to see how impressed he was with himself.
“Let’s go.” Frank started walking up the hill.
He didn’t need to explain. No surprise, we were going to the mansion. There was one surprise, when we arrived. No, two surprises -- guard dogs, two Dobermans. We needed a plan to distract the dogs. Food was the best idea we had, the only one really. John had some beef jerky. He always carried some version of dried meat. Who doesn’t love dried meat? He pulled a couple strips from his pocket, caked with lint, and smiled.
“The dogs won’t mind.” He assured us this would work.
While standing by the gate trying to figure a way to entice the dogs, we noticed one of the metal guitars had hinges. Frank walked over to check and discovered it was actually a door and left unlocked. This could be the answer. Now all we had to do was open the guitar door let the dogs smell the jerky so they would jump through to the outside. That was it, simple, but we needed to do it without getting our arms chewed off.
Really, what could possibly go wrong? The beef jerky would be too enticing for the dogs to resist. The one thing we didn’t count on was the pocket full of jerky John still had in his pants.
Turned out the dogs wanted all of it, not just the two pieces we offered up as bait. John tossed the jerky to the side of the road. One dog ran after it but the other stayed growling at John. The dog wore a collar with the name, Tiger, was displayed in spiked studs. As John backed up toward the gate, Tiger moved to match his pace. Frank, Mike, and I had already stepped through the opening and urged John to do the same. We attempted to distract the dog, but his focus was locked on John. I held the door open and Frank used a stick to keep the dog at bay.
Mike yelled, “Just do it. Go now.”
John turned and charged for the door. Tiger lunged for John. The stick Frank used to keep the dog away broke in half, but it slowed the animal enough for John to get one leg through the gate. As he pulled his other foot up Tiger snared John’s back pocket containing the jerky and ripped his pocket off as well as the back of his pants. As soon as the dog had the jerky, he was satisfied. John escaped without harm. The pants John wore would require an elaborate explanation to his mom without giving away our escapades.
Mike slapped John on the back of his head. “Hey, dumbass. Why didn’t you throw all the jerky to the side of the road?”
“Well, you know I get hungry.”
“Jeeze!” Frank threw up his hands.
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