ONE CUP (Part 18)

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67

Ian McGregor

Mike Prescott looked wretched when our cab rolled up to collect him at the 24 hour Burger King a couple miles from the hotel. The fog was getting thicker by the minute, with visibility roughly half a city block.

“Where’s your car?” Mike asked Brannigan just as Lou powered down his window.

“Back at the hotel,” Brannigan said, jerking his head toward me. “Our boy scout from Down Under insisted we take a cab. Says I had too much to drink.”

Mike nodded. “Okay, probably a good idea.” He looked at the driver, then back to us. “Guys, we need to talk,” he said. “In private.” As we got out of the cab, Mike said to the driver, “Can you wait a couple minutes? We’ll need you to take us somewhere else, but it’ll be a minute.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna need someone to cover the fare so far. I ain’t gonna get stiffed if you and your friends decide to take off.”

“How much?”

“Thirty-two-fifty.”

Mike pulled out his wallet, withdrew a fifty. “How’s that?”

“It'll do.”

Mike ushered us over to the far end of the parking lot. “Okay,” he began, “I’m in a jam.”

“Hold on, Mike,” I interrupted. “I drank a lot tonight. I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

“Yeah, me too,” Brannigan said. “Can we take care of that first?”

“Guys, this is serious shit,” Mike said. “Can’t you wait?”

We both shook our heads and said, “No!”

“Okay, look,” Mike said. “It’s dark, and it’s foggy. Nobody will see you if you go over behind the bushes. I can talk with you while you take a leak.”

Brannigan and I looked at one another and shrugged. Moments later, we were each watering separate bushes as Mike briefed us. “That girl,” he said, “the one Ray Garrett took home?”

We nodded.

I said “Yeah. I remember her. Nice lookin’ bird.”

“I’ve been seeing her. Professionally, if you know what I mean.”

“Geez, Mike,” I said. “I’d think a good looking guy like you, with your money, you could find women anywhere. Why pay for it? Does Kayla know about this?”

“No,” Mike said, “but it’s worse than just trying to keep her from finding out. I think . . . I think maybe I killed her.”

Lou Brannigan and I exchanged glances.

“She came to the party, I guess, to force my hand, to create a conflict between me and Kayla,” Mike said. “I don’t know why. But I couldn’t let that happen. After Ray took her home, I waited a bit before leaving the party. I made an excuse to keep Kayla from suspecting anything, and went to her apartment.” He paused, took a couple of deep breaths. “We got into an argument, one thing led to another, and it got out of control. I accidentally pushed her down a flight of stairs, and I think maybe she’s dead.”

“You didn’t check?” I asked.

Mike shook his head. “No, I was scared. She looked dead, though.”

“We’ll vouch for you,” Brannigan said. “You were with us all night.”

68

Whitney / Lady Fredericka

I’m not sure exactly when I regained consciousness. It was dark, but I knew I was in the trunk of a moving car. No mistaking that. My car! My things were strewn about all around me. One of them could save my life, if I could somehow manage to break free of my restraints.

We must have hit every bump in the road, and I felt certain we were very close to taking some of the turns on two wheels. I’ve always been prone to get motion sickness, and I vomited. Because my mouth was taped, I nearly choked on it.

69

Larry Brown

I drove the BMW into the old barn on my Aunt Maxine’s farm, with Leon following close behind in my truck. I had no intention of taking this fine machine to the river. I was going to the chop shop, just like I done before with her other car. But first, I was going to need a few minutes to retrieve anything of value that may have been left behind. Even in a nice car like this, there was always some loose change, maybe a watch, or who knows what … I once found a sexy negligee in a car. Took it home to my bitches and made them take turns modeling it for me.

Leon parked the truck outside and hustled over to close the barn door. “Dammit, Leon!” I yelled, “Pull that damn truck around back of the barn! We don’t want nobody drivin’ by and seein’ we’re here.”

“Okay,” Leon said. “Sorry, Larry.”

“We gotta use our heads, man,” I reminded him. “I dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t itchin’ to go back to jail no time soon.” Leon hopped back in the truck and drove around back. In the process, he managed to run over a pile of junk that was concealed by the overgrown weeds. Leon’s a dumbass, and it would be real easy to blame him for being careless, but it was dark, and I guess you could say I am partially to blame for him not seeing the junk pile. I was supposed to be keeping the place mowed and looking halfway nice for Aunt Maxine since she’d moved to Florida, but I hadn’t run the bush hog in at least a couple of years. No need. Aunt Maxine kept sending me my checks all the same.

Back in the barn, Leon asked, “What’d she say to you?”

“Who?” I asked as I shut the barn door behind us.

“That lady who you was talkin’ to before we took the BMW?”

“Oh,” I said. “She said she’d pay us three hundred bucks,” I lied.

“Is that all?”

 “Whattaya mean, is that all?” I was offended, and I let Leon know it. “That’s one-fifty apiece, Leon! I’d say that’s not bad for a couple hour’s work!”

“Damn right!” Leon agreed. “What I meant was, was that all she said?”

“Oh,” I chuckled. I lowered my voice, spoke conspiratorally, “That, and she wants me to come over later tonight.”

“Damn, Larry!” Leon said, grinning like a stupid possum and shaking his head. “You the man!”

70

Whitney

Everything hurt. My head, from the blows it received. My arms, shoulders, and legs, from being bound. My heart was beating wildly with fear as my mind raced, imagining what lay ahead while at the same time searching desperately for an idea that would get me out of this nightmare.

71

Larry Brown    

Me and Leon used our flashlights to look through the glove box, under the seats and floor mats, anywhere there might be anything of value. All I come up with was a couple dollars in loose change. I wasn’t too worried. A car like this would fetch a pretty good price from my friend Spider Jones. He’d strip it down and have it out his door overnight. In a few days, the parts would be sold to body shops all across the Midwest. Spider would pay me. He would then make a good profit selling to the body shops, who would in turn would charge the insurance companies full price. The insurance companies would of course make money by gouging their customers for collision, liability, and theft coverage. Everybody made money. It was a victimless crime, really.

“Pop the trunk, Leon,” I said as I walked around to the back of the BMW. Leon fumbled around, finally found the trunk release, and as it opened, I could not believe my eyes.