Sweet Dreams, page 5
“Is he still robbing banks?”
“Been clean since he was released. Has no urge to go back to the trade.”
“This is fun stuff—the good old boy bank robbers, ex-cons hanging out together. What’s next? You going to tell me you’re in a bowling league?” Kate paused. “I’ve seen you following me. What do you want?”
“At first I just wanted to look at you, see how you turned out. Then I wanted to contact you but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. I thought we could spend some time together, get reacquainted.”
“What do you think this is, make believe? We forget everything that’s happened, live happily ever after?”
“I don’t blame you for being angry.”
“I don’t think that quite says it.”
He took a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, shook one out, lit it with a plastic lighter, and lowered the window. “I could help you with this bank robber you’re trying to catch.”
“What do you know about it? You got caught.”
Frank turned in his seat, eyes holding on her now. “I know who he is.”
Nine
Kate said, “Why are we meeting in a bowling alley?”
“You have something against bowling?” Frank picked up his beer bottle.
“If I’m playing a sport and there’s a ball involved, I’d rather throw it, catch it, or hit it.”
“Next time we can meet wherever you want.”
“How do you know there’s going to be a next time?”
“Then how am I gonna get to know you? Help with this bank robber.”
“Who is he?” Kate said.
“His name’s Ray Skinner. I met him at a party.”
“Put a year on this for me.”
“1995. I used to see him around. Skinner looked successful, dressed well, drove a nice car, always had a good-looking babe with him. Ray liked the Orientals: cute, tiny, quiet girls.”
“Witness I interviewed said she saw the Shooter get in the trunk of a car driven by a petite woman wearing an Asian scarf on a hot day like she was trying conceal her identity. With what you just told me it now makes sense.” Kate sucked Coke through the straw. “To catch him, what should I do, hang out at sushi restaurants?”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
Frank hoisted the bottle, drained the rest of the beer, and signaled the bartender.
Kate gave him a dirty look. “Making up for lost time, huh?”
“Something like that. What do you care?”
They sat in silence for several beats like strangers until Kate, trying to restart the conversation, said, “What were you doing in ’95?”
“Trying to find a job,” Frank said. “I was a gasket salesman and got laid off.”
“You were lucky. Sounds like a terrible way to make a living.”
“You don’t think mechanical seals are exciting, huh?”
“Does anyone?”
“Engineers.” Frank smiled. “They love gaskets. They get turned on talking about them.”
The bartender put a fresh beer in front of Frank and took his empty. Frank eyed the beer, picked up the bottle, and took a drink.
“I ran into Skinner one night in a bar. I recognized him, and we started talking.”
“What’d he do?”
“That’s what I asked him. Skinner sipped his Crown on the rocks and said, ‘I handle money.’”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m gonna tell you if you’ll let me. I know where you get your patience.”
“What patience?”
“You can blame me for that.”
“I’m already blaming you for a lot of other things. We can let that one slide.”
Frank hoisted the bottle and drank hard.
“Jesus. Take it easy, will you?
“You married?”
“No,” Kate said. “Why?”
“You nag like a wife.”
Kate frowned. “Well, aren’t you a charmer.” She took a beat. “Did Mom nag you?”
“She was a world-class nagger,” Frank said.
“Is that why you left?” Still holding the bottle, he glanced at her but didn’t say anything.
After a long pause, Kate said, “Get back to Skinner, will you?”
“Where was I?”
“You ran into him in a bar.”
“Skinner took a wad of bills out of his pocket, peeled off eight twenties and handed them to me. I said, ‘What’s this?’ He said, ‘A loan.’”
“So, he was setting you up.”
“I was into him for a couple thousand when he made his pitch.”
“He robbed banks, huh? I can hear that coming.” Kate drank her Coke. Still taking meds, she wasn’t ready for anything stronger. She could hear the constant sound of bowling balls hitting pins. The closest bowlers were about forty feet from where they were sitting.
“Skinner said, ‘Listen, you can keep getting deeper in debt, or you can start earning your keep.’ Told me he robbed banks and could use a driver. I said, ‘Are you out of your mind?’” Frank finished his beer and signaled the bartender.
“But something about it intrigued you.”
“I researched the subject, found out how the famous bank robbers did it. Pretty Boy Floyd used a machine gun. Bonnie and Clyde were known to be unpredictable and vicious, but were glorified on the big screen. John Dillinger, I read, was something of a showman. He’d go into a bank with his gang and work the room. One of his famous lines was ‘I rob banks. What do you do for a living?’” Frank’s beer came, and he took a drink. “And then there was Willy Sutton, who used various disguises and robbed over one-hundred banks. I studied their techniques and methods. You can go in with a gun, threaten people and make a scene, or you can be discreet, inconspicuous, walk in, talk to the teller, and be polite.”
“That’s what you did, huh?”
Frank told her about his first robbery—nervous entering the bank, moving across the floor—a casual stride—to a teller window, flashing a smile at the frumpy woman behind the counter. “I said, ‘How’re you doing today? Boy, I’ll tell you, that dress looks like a million dollars on you. I mean it.’” Frank took a beat. “The teller smiled, enjoying the attention, feeling good about herself. I said, ‘Listen, ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is a hold up. I’m out of work and have a family to feed.’ I let that sink in and said, ‘No dye packs if you please. And, of course, you know the money’s insured, you’re not gonna lose your job or anything like that.’ The teller said: ‘Well, here you go, sir. I hope your luck changes. All I’ve got is five thousand dollars, I hope it helps.’ You believe it?”
“That’s awful, taking advantage of the homely.”
“You think it’s funny, though, don’t you?”
Kate shook her head. “But I can see how it could work. The gentleman bank robber. You gave her compliments, and I’ll bet she didn’t get many.”
The bartender put a beer in front of Frank and picked up the empty.
“The teller felt for you; she was sympathetic. That’s a good strategy.” Kate sipped her Coke. “Did you point a gun at her?”
“I never used a gun. Didn’t have one. I’ve never even fired a gun.”
“Come on.”
“I’m serious. Walked in unarmed, walked out with cash.”
“Just relying on your wits, huh? Where were these banks you hit?”
“I started in Detroit and then moved around the Midwest and East Coast. Your mother thought I had taken another job as a salesman.” He held Kate in his gaze. “Thing I’ve never told anyone except Thompson, robbing banks was fun.” Frank gave her his gentleman-bank-robber smile.
“I can’t believe you’re telling me this. I’d think you’d be sorry and embarrassed.”
“I paid for it, so I guess I can say whatever I want.”
Kate said, “How did you get caught?”
Frank drank his beer. “Broke my one rule: always work alone. Most I ever got at a bank was seven thousand five hundred dollars. This was a chance to get into the big leagues. One score, take you and your mom to LA, start over.” Frank sipped his beer. “It was an armored truck heist. Ray Skinner came to me with the plan and it was a good one. The armored truck with two guards was going to be carrying the concessions and tickets sales from a week of games at Tiger Stadium. Skinner knew the pickup time and the route the armored truck would take to the National Bank of Detroit building at 611 Woodward Avenue.”
“Were you carrying a gun that time?”
“Skinner offered me a .38, but I didn’t take it.” Frank tilted the beer bottle up and finished it. “The armored truck would be coming down an alley behind the bank building, and that’s where one of Skinner’s girlfriends was in a station wagon blocking the way. Poor girl didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know she was breaking the law.”
Kate said, “Did you know her?”
“I’d never seen her before. The armored truck had to stop. One of the guards, seeing this innocent-looking Japanese girl, got out to help her. Tried to push the car but couldn’t do it so he waved at the driver to help him. While the guards were busy, we got in the armored truck. Skinner put it in reverse, turned around, and we drove away.”
“What’d the guards do?”
“Ran after us.”
“What happened to the girl?”
“She started the station wagon and took off. I never saw her again. Skinner drove to an abandoned building he had rented.”
“How much did you get?”
“Four hundred fifty thousand dollars and change. We each took twenty-five grand and agreed to split the rest the next day. The police were waiting for me when I got home. They found the armored truck but not the money. They thought I hid it.” Frank signaled the bartender for another one. “You can see why it’s personal between us. You can see why I want to help you catch him. Skinner owes me eighteen years and two-hundred grand, plus interest.”
“You really think you’re going to get the money?” Kate’s cell phone rang. She took it out of her purse, looked at the screen, and put it back. “Why did Ray Skinner return to Detroit?”
“I don’t know that he ever left. He was set for quite a while.”
“What can you tell me about him?” Kate said.
“He liked to play the horses. He used to hang around the stables, got to know the jockeys, paid them for the names of the fastest, most reliable horses.”
“Where was this?”
“Hazel Park Raceway. Is he still at it? I have no idea.”
“Well, it’s a place to start.” Kate sipped her Coke “What else did he like?”
“Making the scene. Good food and booze. Show me what you’ve got on him, photos, surveillance footage, information that hasn’t been in the newspaper, things only the police know. Maybe it’ll trigger something. I’d also like to see the bank surveillance footage a couple days before each robbery. Skinner would always check out a bank before he robbed it.”
“Is that how you did it?”
“You bet.”
“What did you look for?”
“The general layout, where the guard was, where the cameras were located.”
“What I don’t understand,” Kate said, “Ray Skinner’s hit six banks in less than two months. You’d think he’d know not to press his luck.”
“As I told you, Skinner gambles, needs money for his habit.”
Kate was tired, took a breath. “How old is he?”
“I don’t know, my age, maybe a little older.”
“So we’ve got a middle-aged man hanging out with a petite Asian girl or woman? That’s an angle that hasn’t been mentioned yet.”
“Let that out, Skinner’s gonna run.” Frank drank some beer.
“Is he from Detroit? Does he have family in the area?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did he go to school? Where did he live?”
“He never said.” Frank picked up the bottle and drank some beer.
“Tell me about the party where you met him. Was Mom with you?”
Frank’s face went blank. “I don’t remember.” He didn’t want to go there, admit he was seeing someone on the side, having an affair. “It was at an apartment downtown. I was introduced to Skinner and we talked for a while. Ray was an interesting guy.”
“That’s it?”
“I’d run into him occasionally. As I said, he was a scene maker.”
“Sounds like you were too. Where was Mom while you were out on the town?”
“Home taking care of you.”
“So you were fooling around, huh? Now it all makes sense.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Leaving us,” Kate said. “Getting a divorce.”
“The divorce was your mother’s idea.”
“God, you’re unbelievable. Do you take responsibility for anything?”
“Listen, I’ve got to get out of here, have a smoke.”
“Don’t like what you hear, change the subject, huh?”
Frank ignored her and signaled the bartender.
“I’ll get this. You’re a philandering ex-con without a job.” Kate put thirty dollars on the bar top.
“You don’t hold back, do you?”
When they were in the parking lot, he lit up, inhaling like he craved it. “When’re you going back to work?”
“Soon as I’m cleared by the Marshals Service. Next week, I hope. Give me your number, I’ll text you when I have everything.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Why don’t you get one, it might come in handy.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Rob a bank. That might be the only thing you’re good at.”
“I was thinking about it.”
Kate gave him a hard look.
“I’m kidding,” Frank said, breaking into a grin.
“Are you?”
Ten
Melvin called early the next morning, saying the PD had checked and interviewed the owners of the six cars that had been illegally parked on Griswold Street the afternoon the bank was robbed. “Four belonged to bank customers running in for a couple minutes to take care of business. But here’s where it gets interesting. One of the cars, a Toyota sedan, had a stolen plate on it from a Ford Flex registered to Katy Dudley of Bloomfield Village. I visited Ms. Dudley, who was genuinely surprised to learn that the license plate on her vehicle had been stolen.” Melvin paused, “Got anything for me?”
“Not sure. I want to look at the surveillance tapes from the banks that were hit one, two, three days before each robbery. I think the Shooter cased them in advance, wouldn’t you? And I think he might have an accomplice.”
“Whoa, hang on. Where’s this coming from?”
“Something Mildred Washington said.”
“And you didn’t call me?” Melvin sounded annoyed.
“And the get-away car from bank number six might be a silver Toyota sedan. Get me the tapes, I hope I’ll be able to tell you more.”
•••
Frank stopped by midafternoon. “What’s happening?”
“Checking to see if Ray Skinner’s in the system.” Kate logged onto the National Crime Information Center and typed in Ray Skinner. She glanced at Frank. “There are two possible matches. One is Raymond L. Skinner, twenty-nine, doing time for selling ten kilos of Mexican heroin in Tucson, Arizona. Number two is Billy Ray Skinner, who would’ve been sixty-eight if he hadn’t been murdered in prison forty-three years ago.”
Kate read his sheet:
“Billy Ray was a career criminal, in and out of prison his whole adult life. Arrested for grand theft auto when he was eighteen, and kept going, moved onto armed robbery specializing in supermarkets and convenience stores.”
Frank studied the mug shots.
Kate said, “Does he look familiar? Could this be your buddy’s father?”
Frank gave her a dirty look. “First of all, he’s not my buddy. And, yeah, it’s possible. Our Ray Skinner has a similar face and build and the same shit-eating grin.”
“But unlike his dad, it appears as though our Ray Skinner has never been arrested.” Kate raised her hands over her head and stretched. “Listen, I’ve got to run out and pick up a few things. I’m out of milk, eggs, and coffee cream. Want to come?”
Kate drove her estranged, ex-con father to a shopping center and parked in the lot. Frank looked wide-eyed at the store front. “What’s this?”
“Target.”
“What do they sell?”
“Everything. You’ve never heard of Target?”
Frank shook his head.
“Need anything?”
“Do they have underwear? I’ve been wearing Thompson’s since I got back.”
Kate made a face. “TMI.”
Frank looked at her with a question.
“It means ‘too much information.’”
They went in and Kate led him to the men’s department. “Pick what you want. I’ll meet you at the cashier.”
Ten minutes later, Frank, who looked embarrassed, handed her two three-packs of Hanes boxer briefs. “Can you get these for me?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll meet you outside. I’m gonna have a smoke.”
Kate paid for the underwear, groceries, and a mobile phone for Frank.
Back in her apartment kitchen, Kate reached in the Target bag, grabbed Frank’s two three-packs of underwear, and tossed them to him. “I don’t know how to thank you. This is the first thing anyone’s given me in a long time.”
“I have something else for you.” She reached into the bag, brought out the phone, and handed it to him. “It’s a Samsung Galaxy J7 with twelve hours of talk time.”
Frank looked at her like she was speaking Chinese.
