A Drink with the Deacon

"You are ready?" she asked as she stepped from the last step.

I nodded since it was the one thing I knew she would understand. She led the way without another word. The truck seemed to be an old T model ambulance from the war. How it happened to wind up behind a German grocery store was anybody's guess. We did not communicate well enough for me to ask.

After I cranked the Ford to life, she gave me directions to our first destination. She and I spent the morning going from one local farm to another. We even found our way to a market where the farmer sold their goods to people directly. It was in the small downtown of a neighboring village.

We were back in the rear of the produce stand and grocery by 2pm. While I unloaded the truck I noticed cars drive into the alley. The cars discharged men who slipped into the rear of the Italian social club. I kept and eye on them as I unloaded the truck. When I finished, I walked to the front of the store where I leaned against the wall as I munched on a pear. The pear was green and on the hard side but it was sweet.

Out of the blue I grasped why some of the men entered the club through the front and others through the rear. Those who used the front door were members of the gang or neighborhood residents who ate at the club.

Those using the rear, did business with the gang. They seemed to prefer no one to know their connection. I expected that even a few of them worked for the gang. It appeared that for some reason someone wanted them to be kept quiet.

The moves began in a method I would not have planned. As I stood with the pear almost gone, one of the hoodlums walked from the club two doors down. He sorted through the basket of apples, which I had brought from the small village market. He found one to his liking then turned to leave.

"You gonna pay for that?" I heard my own voice ask the question.

The man turned to look at me. He had an amused smile on his face as he said, "Mind your own business, or I might just teach you some manners."

"I don't think my momma would approve of me taking lessons from a thief," I replied. I was in it before I knew what was happening.

The man was way to close to me to reach for the shoulder holster. Those things were about concealment not a speedy removal of a pistol. He did not expect me to do anything more than to stand on the sidewalk terrified while he pulled the pistol on me. Instead I pushed him while he was making the move. He was off balance as he stumbled back against the wall. He had his hand on the pistol as the trench knife nicked his throat. His eye went wide in terror. He understood immediately that he was a heartbeat from death.

I heard the footsteps behind me, and I knew it was his friend. "One more step and he is a dead man."

"You gotta' know, if you cut him you gonna die." The voice belonged to a man only slightly smaller than me.

"Don't matter much whether you kill me or this punk does. I do get the satisfaction of sending him to hell ahead of me."

"You let him go, we forget all this," the voice behind me said.

"You know better. I let him go and you kill me. Hell he ain't worth much, let me just kill him and go on my way."

The laughter filled the street around us. It came from a different voice. "Let him go and you can walk away friend."

"Oh really, why should I believe you?" I turned the punk so that I could see the man.

"Because, I give you my word." I knew that I was in a no win position, so I pushed the hoodlum to them. The hoodlum acted as though he was going for the pistol. The man who had spoken last stopped him with a look.

"You not from here are you?" he asked.

"No down south, just passing through," I replied.

He nodded his head. "What is this all about?"

"The man was stealing an apple." I smiled at the man who was obviously some kind of boss.

"So what is that to you?" He asked.

"I went out this morning and brought those apples here. I got paid a fair wage for my work. I expect the people who paid me to get paid for their work. It is as simple as that."

"Gino, give the man his money." The hoodlum didn't look as though he wanted to do it. He finally tossed the money on the sidewalk.

"You didn't get the apple off the sidewalk," I said with a smile. I decided to see how far I could push them.

"There are three of us friend," the boss pointed out.

"I know," I replied with a much more confident smile than the situation called for.

"I will say one thing friend, you got balls. Pick it up Gino, and hand it to the man."

"Hand it to the lady instead Gino." I wanted my hand free to at least try for the Webley.

The leader smiled as he turned away. Gino gave the money to the woman who had ridden with me all morning. Then he cast an evil look in my direction as he walked away.

After they entered the club, I walked to the rear of the market by going down the alley a couple of buildings away. When I arrived at the rear, I sat down hard on a packing case. I tried to hold onto my pear. It was threatening to reappear at any second. The only reason I could figure that I was still alive was the witness problem. Too many people in the neighborhood would recognize the men. If the incident had taken place in some other neighborhood, I figured I would be very dead at that moment.

"They will kill you." the woman said.

I looked up at the woman who had been my companion. She held a few coins in here outstretched hand. It was the payment for my day's work. Not even enough to pay the hotel bill for a day. I definitely could not afford the job long. The next thing she said did not surprise me at all.

"We will not be needing you again."

"I didn't think you would." I tried to fake a smile but I don't think I was able to pull it off.

"You should go," she suggested.

"I don't think they will bother you because I am sitting on a box." I again tried to smile.

"No, I mean you should leave this place." She flung here arms to encompass the whole town.

"Oh you mean, run away, I don't think I will be doing that. I do thank you for your concern though." She returned to the store while shaking her head. I continued to sit on the box with her coins in my hand. As I sat there, more cars came and went from the rear of the building.

After an hour or so my knees felt sufficiently strengthened to walk away. I stopped by to have a sandwich at the deli then picked up the bike. I rode it down the two streets by the river. The buildings along those two streets were no more than thrown together warehouses. It was typical since someday a spring flood would destroy anything built in the lower area of town. The floods happened many years apart but most everyone remembered them.

The warehouse was built more like a barn. It also appeared ready to fall down. It was structurally sound but badly in need of paint. The neglect of being abandoned was threatening it. The warehouse was perfect not only because it was abandoned but also because it was a short distance from the others along the river front. Even the gates were open making it ideal to slip in and out.

Except for the small office area, the inside was open studs and rafters. Not much sense in finishing the inside, when it was intended for nothing more than temporary storage. The office area was totally empty. There was not even a broken chair in the place.

It was fortunate that I needed so few things to prepare the place for my guest. I could carry them on the motorbike. When everything was ready, I stood in the door debating when to begin. I tried to find a reason to put it off for a few days. Nothing came to mind so I rode the bike back into town. I left it parked several blocks from the social club. I left the key in the ignition. The only thing more I could have done was leave a sign that said steal me.

It was dead dark when the Oldsmobile used for carrying the big wheels pulled into the alley. I didn't recognize the driver which I regretted. I had hoped that it would be Gino. I chalked that one up to you can't have everything.

The driver dropped off his black suited passenger at the rear of the building. Once the passenger slipped into the rear door, the car pulled to a parking space a few feet away. He moved to clear the alley in case of a fire I supposed. It was called a fire alley after all.

The Colt was harder to hide, but much more impressive when sticking in someone's mouth. In the driver's mouth is where the Colt found itself that evening. He would have spoken if the Colt hadn't been so big. He could only mumble which was just as well.

"Get out of the car." I used my best menacing voice when I spoke. He got out slowly just the way I wanted. I disarmed him, then quickly put him into the trunk of the car. Once he was safely tucked away, I drove off to the sound of his muffled cries. I should have bashed his skull I thought as I quickly drove to the warehouse. I was fortunate not only was the traffic light, there was not a cop in sight.

I had warned him about the noise, so when he came out I slapped him across the jaw with the Colt. I am sure it hurt but it did something more. It got his attention in a way that said this is not a game. I tied his hands behind his back with the long rope, then I threw it over a rafter. I pulled it tight before I tied it to a nail someone had thoughtfully driven into a stud. The thug had to be uncomfortable standing on his tiptoes like that.

"What's your name?" I asked it simply to have a starting place.

"Tomasino, and I am going to kill you for this." His bravado was touching.

"I am going to give you that chance after we have had our little talk. But first I want to know about the men you drive around."

He spat at me. I wiped it off the front of my shirt then wiped it on his. At that point just for the pure hell of it I slapped him across the mouth with the Colt. I knew I had broken several of his teeth. He began spitting blood but not at me.

"Those teeth can be fixed. Some things can't be repaired so let's not have any more of the foolish heroics. There is no one here to be impressed and no one is going to know what you tell me. You can tell your boss you told me nothing, it is all the same to me."

"I ain't tellin' you nothing," he said.

"Thomas, I can call you Thomas?" He didn't respond at all. "Thomas, you are going to tell me everything you know. When you run out of things, you are going to make some up. Because you are going to want to live, but even more you are going to want the pain to stop." I walked behind him. I quickly broke one of his fingers. His screams did not give me any pleasure. The whole thing was strictly business. I was doing it all to stay alive. Okay, I did plan to profit from it, but it was not done for pleasure.

"Now Thomas, the things I am asking you are of no importance. These things are the things I could easily find out by following you. I simply do not have the time for that. So you are suffering to protect something that is not even a secret. So, let us begin with who you dropped at the club tonight?"

He did not appear to be moving toward and answer so I broke another finger. I did it because it wasn't enough that he answered. He had to answer without editing his remarks. It had to come off the very top of his head.

"Again, who was the man you dropped at the club?"

"His name is Simmons. I pick him up after work once a week. I drop him at the club then a couple of hours later I drive him home."

"Who does he come to see?"

"He comes to see the boss."

"And what is the name of his company?"

"The sign over his office says Hong Kong imports." I had no idea what that meant nor did I care.

"Who else do you take to the club?"

"Guy named Robert Lawrence. He is some kind of banker."

"Is he the only banker type?"

"Yes," he didn't seem to be very enthusiastic with his answers. I was debating moving on to even more fingers but decided not to bother. For the next thirty minutes he gave me names and addresses of men with whom his boss did business. None of them meant anything to me. I was sure that the country sheriff was on his payroll but he didn't visit the boss at his club.

"Well Thomas, you did fine. I am going to tie you up and leave you here. I will be back tonight to turn you loose. Just take it easy and try to rest." I moved him from the open bay to the partitioned office space. I tied him to a support post in the office. He might bring the whole barn down but it would be the only way he was going to get out of the knots. The broken fingers assured me of that. I drove his car across the river to Covington. I found an all night diner. I drank coffee there until the sun came up.

With daylight came respectability, I used it to drive the stolen car to the farmer who was storing my duffel bags. I drove from the farmer directly to the bank. Getting in to see the manager required flashing some of the liquor money around. It seemed that I didn't look like a millionaire. Since the bank dealt with criminals, they were not at all shocked to see me flashing so much cash about.

The secretary dumped me into the office of the bank manager. I stood a moment while he finished a paper he was reading, I had the feeling that it was for show. Lawrence was a heavy set man trying to hide it behind an expensive desk. When he stood, I noted his suit probably cost all the money I made from a day's liquor sales.

"Ah Mr. Amos is it?" he asked extending his hand to me.

"Yes it is Mr. Lawrence." I smiled even as I removed the Webley from my pocket.

"Mr. Lawrence, we have what is usually called a bank robbery here." He didn't appear to look overly concerned. I expected that he though his connection with the gang would save him. It was time to disillusion him.

"Don't make a sound because frankly I would have no problem killing you. I really don't like bankers much." I smiled as though we were discussing his car.

"And if I don't co-operate?"

"I kill you on the spot then I pick up that phone and call my partner. He is at the moment holding a woman and child. They live at 442 Green Valley Drive." That one took the wind out of his sails. "If I don't call him in exactly twelve minutes, he kills them all. Even if you alert your guards, they can't stop it now."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I don't want you do anything too far out of the ordinary. I don't want you to go from window to window filling a bag. I don't even want you to go empty the vault. What I want you to do is to walk into the vault and bring me the two black suitcases you have stored there."

"I can't do that, they will kill me."

"They might, but if you don't, I am going to kill you, your wife, and your little girl. I don't think you have a choice but to deal with one threat at a time. Now get me the bags." I followed him outside. I stood across the rail from him as he went into the vault. Since I was not in the vault, no one paid any attention to me. I had a good view to make sure he didn't pull anything. Lawrence removed the bags from a lock box inside the vault. He brought them out to me.

"What about my family?" I had to admit he really did look worried. Since the job had gone off so easily I gave him a break.

"Walk out with me," I demanded. Once outside the door I started the Oldsmobile. I looked up and said. "Go immediately into you office. Call your house when the man answers say the word MORTON. It is the code to release your family." I drove off. I managed not to laugh until I was at the warehouse. I loaded Tomas into the car still trussed up like a chicken. I drove across the bridge and into Kentucky.

I opened the trunk on the outskirts of Covington. I cut the ropes on Tomas's hands. He was standing on wobbly legs when I said, "Well Tomas, I hope you fare better with the boss." I knew he was in trouble, even if he didn't. From the general store, just outside town, I got the name of a farmer who had a sharecropper house for rent.

"Yes Deacon, I have a house out there for rent but it ain't much. I don't expect, a man like you would be interested."

"Well brother Ennis, it don't take much for me to be satisfied. I need it only for a few weeks in any event. The tent meeting folks will be here in October just before the cold. I cleaned the Olds, then parked it on a used car dealer's lot late the next night. I had no idea what he would do with it. Call the cops maybe.

I spent about five hours sitting on a park bench in the town square. I chose one in the dark so as not to attract any attention. When the sun was peeking over the horizon, I found a cafe for breakfast. The food was good and the waitress was old but friendly. As was often the case in diners, there was a bulletin board. On the bulletin board were a number of things for sale. Among them were two T models. From the smiling waitress I received directions to the ladies ready to wear store. The manager of the store had one of the Ts for sale.

The car was parked outside the store to make viewing it easier. She wanted to get rid of it because she had bought a newer Chevrolet. The Chevrolet had a bigger engine according to her. It did have a more powerful engine. It was also much faster. If I had planned to be chased the newer Chevrolet would be the car of choice.

The T which she was trying to sell was an older family touring thing. It had the rear seat for the kids as well as a tattered cloth top. She didn't much want me to start it. When I finally got it started, I knew why. The engine had not been cared for. It smoked badly. It was my guess that the whole car was in bad mechanical shape. If it ran at all, it would do for my purpose.

After a quick test drive which convinced me that it would survive a while longer, I began negotiations with her. Even when the price reached fifty dollars I knew I was over paying for it. She wouldn't budge. I kicked myself even as I counted out the money.

From her I got directions to the office of a coal speculator. The woman was happy to explain to me what the man actually did. He bought coal from the mines in huge lots then resold it in smaller quantities. He arranged the shipments to the buyers by barge.

Mr. Sheffield's office sat just outside the rail yard. When I entered his female secretary asked my business immediately. "Mr. Sheffield has no time for salesmen," she informed me.

I explained again that I was present to see about the car he had for sale. I waited while she made two more phone calls. When she finished, she spoke to me.

"The car isn't here it is my home Mr Sheffield said as he entered the outer office. The address is 321 North Elm Street. It is the blue one. The price is $350 I do not negotiate." He obviously did not expect me to buy a car so expensive. "I also do not take time payments."

"First of all Mr. Sheffield that is a lot of money for a Ford. Secondly, if I bought it, you certainly would not need to take payments on it."

"Good," he said. He didn't seem to doubt my word, but he also did not seem to think he would see me again. "If you want it, pay my wife she has the bill of sale ready. She will just have to fill in your name." The son of a bitch lifted the phone to dial. The prick had just dismissed me. I left with a smile on my face.

The two suitcases probably held enough money to buy his ass. I hadn't counted the money but I knew it was a lot. I neither knew, nor cared why the gang had kept so much cash in the vault. Just the fact that I had it was enough for me. The trick would be to get away with it while staying alive.

I don't know what I expected to find at the house on Elm Street, but what I did find was a five-year-old T model Ford Speedster. It was a fast two seater built on a European body design. It looked like a race car because it was supposed to look that way. Sheffield obviously didn't drive it often. It had very little wear on it so the price for the car was actually low. I would have expected it to be at least five hundred dollars.