Ill Gotten Gains: Diary of a Gentle Grifter, page 30
And she was off in her own car which she’d picked up from the Luxor shortly after we returned to town.
Then, all of a sudden, I was left alone in the phony house with my real parents. That frightened me. I prayed that they’d sleep soundly until Drucilla returned. I knew if they came out of their room and found her gone, there’d be many more inquiries, directed at me: Are you going to ask her to marry you? Do you plan on having children? Won’t you need a bigger house? Would she continue to be a stewardess after you get married? Will you consider moving back to Richmond, so we can all be closer as a family? This house is so spotless; surely you don’t clean it yourself. Does Drucilla do the cleaning?
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
I just couldn’t stomach even the thought of it, so I went for a walk.
I’d never been for a walk in a Las Vegas suburb. It was surprisingly refreshing and strangely quiet, since most everyone was at work or in school. The escape allowed me to decompress.
A bit.
It didn’t take long before I realized I was about a mile and a half from the house, fast approaching the entrance of the large development of tract homes. It was quite clear that one developer had come in and built the whole neighborhood, but I guessed that had to have been a good twenty years earlier, given that so many of the houses had improvements and additions that made many of them look different from the next. I guesstimated the properties sold for something in the neighborhood of five hundred grand or so, maybe more if they’d been modernized inside or had swimming pools out back. I also knew that if the same exact homes were plopped down in Palm Springs or Los Angeles, they’d be three times as expensive.
I was sauntering along, lost in real estate thought, when I noticed a pickup truck driving in my direction. I moved to the far left to avoid getting hit and then I instantly experienced a wave of dread.
The driver of the truck was Elizabeth’s other goon. He was unmistakable, forever etched into my mind.
I stopped short. He didn’t seem to pay me any attention as he passed. I slowly turned, pretending to look at something else, but I squinted and quickly memorized the license plate number. And then, when I saw him turn to the right at the end of the block, I panicked.
“Is he going to my house?!” I yelped out loud.
I started to jog back the way I’d come.
And then three seconds after that, I broke into an all out sprint. My legs wouldn’t move fast enough underneath me. I used my arms—including the wounded one—swinging them as hard as I could to help propel myself along the cement. My heart hurt. My lungs stung. For a guy who did absolutely no physical activity besides walking through casinos and screwing pretty girls occasionally, I wasn’t at all prepared for the run.
But I had no choice.
Of course I hoped my imagination had gotten the best of me. I prayed that was the case. But I knew what I saw. It was him.
A few moments later, I rounded the last corner and had the rental house in sight. And there was the truck, speeding away from the driveway.
I sped up, if that was possible, and sailed up the front steps and through the already open front door.
I nearly collapsed onto the floor just as my father came out into the family room in his stocking feet.
“Why was the front door open?!” I managed to scream.
“What the hell is wrong with you, kiddo?” He seemed too calm. My pops wasn’t concerned about anything except for his sweaty, hyperventilating son lying in a heap in front of him.
I scrambled to my feet and felt light headed. “Where’s Mom?” I had to put my hands on my knees to try to catch my breath.
“Were you running?” he asked. “Outside? Dressed like that? Do you have a screw loose, Macon?”
“Where…is…Mom?!”
My father looked around the room. “She left the bedroom five minutes ago. I don’t know. Maybe she’s out back.”
“Jesus Christ.” I pushed by him and raced to the back door. She clearly wasn’t out there. So, I checked all the other possible spots, even the garage.
Nothing.
“She’s gone,” I said when I returned.
“She’s probably out exploring the neighborhood. Calm yourself, boy. She’ll be back. She has a curious nature; you know that. You need to get yourself cleaned up. Is it that hot outside? You look a wreck.”
I ignored him and went back out the front door. I looked up and down the street.
A crazy woman’s goon just kidnapped your goddamned wife, Dad! I wanted to scream over my shoulder. But I held my tongue.
Instead, I yanked out my phone to text Drucilla.
911. I need you back. They nabbed my mother.
Say what?
I think Elizabeth kidnapped my mom.
OMG on my way.
40
THE PORTAL
Drucilla and I stood in the garage next to the loud HVAC unit so my father wouldn’t hear us.
“Did you call Elizabeth?”
“No,” I said. “She adamantly denied sending the gardener to kill Lucia. She’ll just deny this, too.”
“That crazy woman has lied about everything to you over and over. She probably lied about the gardener, too. But you need to call her.”
I leaned up against the hood of the car. “Maybe I should call the police instead.”
Drucilla looked more alarmed than I’d ever seen her look before. “Have you completely lost your friggin’ mind? You can’t be serious. You know you can’t do that. That would be the end of everything. That’s never an option. Not for people like us. Not in our line of work.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Yes. I know that. I do.” But I was fresh out of ideas. My real life and my manufactured life of crime had come crashing together in the worst possible way and it was going to take some mighty inspired creativity to explain my way out of it. And to save my innocent mother’s life. And I was having a hard time letting that last bit sink in. Is this really happening? How did I allow this to happen?
Dru seemed to be able to read my mind. She grabbed at one of my hands. “We’ll find her, Macon. If you don’t want to call Elizabeth, then call Sammy. Maybe he knows something. He’s on your side now, or so it seems.”
So, with no other ideas, I called the big lug. But the call went straight to voicemail. “It’s Macon,” I barked. “Call me back. It’s beyond urgent, man. Totally 9-1-1.”
Drucilla started toward the door leading into the house. “I’ll go distract your father. You’ll come up with the right thing to do, Macon. You always do.” She stopped suddenly and turned back to look at me. “You know, I just can’t seem to get used to calling you Macon. It’s so weird after all this time.”
“Uh huh,” I said. I closed my eyes. “Go ask my father why he named me that. That’ll absolutely distract him for a while.”
I ran down my list of cohorts and couldn’t think of one single person who might have had any kind of experience like this in the past. They were all like me—most of us specialized in petty distract-and-grab operations, not kidnapping, extortion, blackmail, and murder. I was in deep, dangerously over my head, and hurtling toward complete and utter disaster. I absently pressed the button to open the garage door then paced up and down the driveway until my phone vibrated in my pocket.
A text from Elizabeth.
I have your mother. Area15 event space. Come alone, unarmed. Bring the book. This can be easy or messy. Your choice.
My stomach instantly turned sour. I fumbled with my phone trying to Google what the hell Area15 could be. Moments later I found a website—it was some sort of experimental art, event, and retail building just off the I-15 highway and Desert Inn Road. I recalled seeing the signs from the highway, but had no idea what it was nor had I ever given it a second thought until…
“Macon.”
I turned to find my father standing behind me.
“Has she come back yet?”
“I don’t see her, no sir,” I said.
“I don’t understand. This isn’t like Carol.” He hooked a thumb back over his shoulder. “And her cellular is in the house, on the coffee table, so I can’t call her.” He then looked up at a tree in the front yard. “This Sweet Acacia isn’t getting enough water, young man. See the leaves? See there? They’re wilted something terrible.”
You’re worried about the leaves on someone else’s property when your wife’s life is in danger, Dad? Of course, he didn’t know any of that. “I’ll get on it,” I said. “Listen, I think I’m going to drive around the neighborhood and see if I can find her.” I headed past him, back into the garage. “Can you go keep Drucilla company?”
He smiled widely and quickly turned on his heel. “I can do that, yes sir.”
I needed two things as quickly as possible.
I drove like an Indy driver to my storage unit on the east side of Las Vegas Boulevard and first took the smallest handgun I owned out of its locked metal box. I loaded the Smith & Wesson M&P, then wedged it inside one of my socks. My pants were billowy enough at the bottom to conceal it, I thought, and prayed I wouldn’t be patted down immediately upon arrival.
I then pocketed Lucia’s leather book I’d stashed in a box of my old neckties.
The navigation app on my phone guided the car toward Area15. It took about fifteen minutes to get to the parking lot, then I fast-walked toward the converted warehouse space’s main entrance. According to the website, the event function room was called, ‘The Portal,’ and it was located at the south end of the building.
I weaved and dodged my way through hordes of tourists, who were enjoying the art, food, bars, and interactive museum. Of all the gazillion possible places in the valley, Elizabeth, this is the friggin’ place you picked to meet? It seemed entirely too public for such an exchange.
When I got to the end of the building, I found stanchions strung up, along with a sign that read, ‘Please excuse our dust – this area under construction.’ It seemed the narcoleptic had done her homework.
I slipped around the barrier and through a set of double doors into a cavernous, dimly lit ballroom. Scaffolding and piles of construction materials were strewn about and a large cherry picker was parked to one side. The place was otherwise deserted. No workmen, guards, or sign of any people whatsoever.
“Elizabeth?” My voice echoed. I heard nothing else come back at me. “Elizabeth?!” I called louder.
Sammy appeared from behind a stack of wood panels. “This way, Macon. Over here.” He had a gun in his hand.
Et tu, Samuel? Seriously? After all we’ve been through?
I walked slowly toward him. I was sweating profusely; I hadn’t really stopped moving since the impromptu run through the neighborhood. My heart pounded in my ears. I was confused. And I was mad as all hell.
And then, thankfully, Carol Lence appeared. My mother looked horrified, but seemed unharmed. Her hands were zip tied together in front of her. Her upper arm was held by Elizabeth’s other goon, the guy I’d seen in the truck. He held a handgun up against my mother’s torso.
Elizabeth stepped out of the shadows. She was sporting a short black wig, jeans, and a white tank top. “Macon, doll,” she cooed. “Thank you so very much for gracing us with your presence. I knew you’d do the right thing. For a change.”
“This was completely unnecessary. Let her go.”
“I had to get your attention,” Elizabeth said evenly. “My timeline got sped up. It was out of my control and you refused to meet me.”
I turned to my mother. “Are you okay?”
She nodded but didn’t say anything. She looked justifiably terrified and confused.
Elizabeth stepped forward as Sammy retreated a few steps. He positioned himself behind his cohorts.
“Your mother is fine, Macon.” Elizabeth put her hands up in the air. “I don’t want to hurt her or anyone else. Okay? I mean it.”
“They did hurt me,” my mother blurted out. “I was treated roughly by that horrid man at your house.” She took in some air, then asked, her voice shaking, “What is this all about?”
How could I possibly explain? “Just be quiet for a few minutes, Mom, please.”
“That’s right,” Elizabeth said. “Everyone needs to be as quiet as a little mouse.” She turned back to me. “Where is the damned book? It’s not at Lucia’s house. We’ve looked absolutely everywhere for it.”
“I don’t have it,” I said carefully. “How could I possibly have it? I told you I couldn’t get into the safe.”
“What safe, Macon?” my mother pleaded. “Why would you take something that didn’t belong to you? Your father and I didn’t raise you to…”
“Shut up, lady!” the goon yelled with a flick of the gun.
“Hey, bucko,” I said taking a step forward. “Watch the gun. That’s my mother.”
Elizabeth flashed a palm at me. “Stop moving, Macon. Stay right where you are.” She clasped her hands together. “If you don’t have the book, and Sammy doesn’t have it, where the heck did it go? She didn’t take it with her into the next life, I assume.” Elizabeth seemed to be shaking. Was she mad or scared? I couldn’t tell which.
Maybe both.
I shook my head slowly. “Why would I lie to you? Why now? If I had it, I’d give it to you. It’d be no skin off my nose. Why would I want it? Just let my mother leave, okay? This is beyond ridiculous, and she has nothing to do with this.”
“Macon! Give them the darned thing!” my mother shrieked.
“Will you shut her up?" Elizabeth screamed at the man holding my mother.
“Come on now,” I pleaded. “No one needs to get hurt. You said that yourself. Didn’t you promise us that a few seconds ago?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “You’ve given me no choice, Macon.” She turned to face my mother and her goon. “Just do it, Chad.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I give up. I’ll put the book on the floor in front of me. Let’s trade, okay?”
I believed I was masked enough by the shadow I was standing in, so I turned my body to the right slightly, pulled the book from the back of my pants, knelt down to the floor, and set it down on the concrete floor with my left hand. And with my right hand, I extracted the Smith & Wesson from its hiding place in my sock.
Back on my feet, I held the gun behind my right leg.
“What do you have there?” Elizabeth asked, sounding alarmed. “Do you have a fucking gun?” She turned to her men. “Shoot him, God damn it! Shoot the fucker before he shoots me.”
My mother screamed when Chad let go of her arm then raised his gun, pointing it at me. I instinctively aimed toward him at the same time as I screamed, “run!” as loudly as I could.
My mother darted off to the right and disappeared into the darkness.
The goon and I fired at the same time.
Apparently Sammy fired, too.
I dropped to the floor and flattened myself against the cool cement.
I heard my mother scream again from somewhere in the darkness followed by some whimpering.
And when I looked up, one man was left standing.
Chad was down. Despite my shitty aim, I’d managed to hit him in the chest.
Elizabeth was on the floor, too, lying in a puddle of blood, her wig sitting a few feet away. She looked to be shot in the back of the head and it wasn’t pretty.
As I got to my feet, I glanced over at Sammy, who was holstering his weapon. “Holy shit, Sam. I don’t believe it.”
Sammy looked at me with surprise. “You can’t. I can’t believe I just did that, man. But it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Um, yeah. I think it was the right thing to do. Thank you.” I hurried forward to check the goon’s pulse. He was dead. Then I looked down at Elizabeth. It was quite obvious, without having to touch her, that she wouldn’t be falling asleep on anyone ever again.
I then did a three-sixty twirl. “Mom! Mother! Where are you?”
I could hear her crying. I followed the sound and found her in a crouching position behind a stack of drywall, about twenty yards away. I helped her to her feet and wrapped my arms around her back. “I am so, so very sorry.”
Her whole body shook in my embrace. “I don’t…I don’t understand. I just…I just don’t understand what happened here. What just happened?”
“Shh, please. Take it easy and breathe. Just breathe.” I spoke as calmly as possible even though I felt myself shaking right along with her. “It’s alright now. I’m sorry. But it’s okay now, I promise. I’ll explain soon enough.”
Sammy walked over with a set of wire cutters to snip off my mother’s wrist restraints. “Let’s get out of here before the cops show up. Someone musta heard all of that racket.”
My mother looked over at the two dead bodies. “We need to call 9-1-1. We’re not leaving them here. Not like that.”
“Oh yeah, I think we are.” I wasn’t sure about Sammy, but I knew I wasn’t going to stick around to get caught. It simply wasn’t an option. “What other choice do we have, Mom?”
“Choices? Are there choices? I wish I had a clue what they might be.” Carol clasped a hand to her forehead. “This is just, just…insanity. Like a bad dream or—” Her voice trailed off.
I manhandled my mother toward an exterior exit door. “Walk. Just walk.” After he scooped up the leather book, Sammy caught up with us. As we hurried along, I patted him on the back. “Thank you, buddy. I knew you’d come through.” I said those words to him, even though I hadn’t been so sure a few moments earlier.
“She had it coming,” Sammy said.
“Who the heck was she, Macon?” my mother begged as we stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight. “I demand that you tell me what you’ve gotten yourself wrapped up in.”
I smiled down at her as we continued toward the car. “I’ll explain later.”
“We need to call the police,” she pleaded again.
