“Why do we need to talk?” she asked.
“Just meet me down by the Dairy Queen in 10 minutes.”
I hung up the phone and left the house. A car started up and seemed to follow at a distance until I turned into the Dairy Queen lot. Jean drove in about five minutes later. “Why did you say that we needed to talk and not over the phone, are you getting all spooked on me?”
“Things are happening I know, but I can’t really be sure of what they are. I talked to a guy in Saint Louis about ways to disappear, but he seemed not right. I got a call from a friend about that Mills asking questions about me and just now a car followed me all the way down here. They could have a tap on all of our phones; I don’t know.”
“Could they know what we did?” She asked.
“I think they do, but they don’t have enough evidence to arrest us or they would have by now.”
“What do we do?” Jean asked.
“I think we gather what money we can and get out of town.”
“They’ll know for sure if we all skip town,” Jean said.
“If we wait, Mills will figure it out sooner or later,” I conceded.
“I just don’t know,” Jean argued.
“Let’s go to the bank in the morning, all at different times, and take out most of our money. If anyone asks, we’re going on a vacation.”
“Ok, but I think you’re imagining things Bill.”
“I hope so Jean.”
The next morning I went by the bank and took out most of the money I had before I went to work. Jean left when I got there and she withdrew the majority of her funds. The teller asked what was going on? Jean answered: “Just going on a vacation,” and left the building. She glanced back and saw the teller pick up her phone. Jan waited for another hour before she went to the bank. When she asked for her savings the teller told her she would have to talk to the manager. Jan walked over to the manager’s office and went inside. “Hi Mike, what’s going on with my account?” Jan asked.
“A… We received a court order this morning to freeze your account. Beyond that, I don’t know.”
“Well what’s the reason,” Jan asked.
“Don’t know,” Mike replied. “Sorry Jan.” Jan left the bank and raced back to the shop. There was a sheriff’s car sitting a couple of hundred yards down the road when she walked in the door. “They wouldn’t give me my money!” she shrieked. “And there’s a sheriff car just down the road. They know we did it. They’re going to arrest us for sure! What do we do now?”
“We walk out the back door, climb into my truck and calmly drive down the alley and then out of town,” I answered. We started to do just that and by the time we were half way down the alley, the sheriff’s car was screeching tires and headed our direction.
Jan looked in the side mirror and said: “he’s gaining on us fast!”
We took the turn onto the road on two wheels and I gunned the truck for top speed. The sheriff car had much more horsepower than my old truck and was rapidly closing on us. I told the ladies to count three and brace themselves for impact. They did and I stood on my brakes. The still accelerating sheriff car was on us in a fraction of a second and slammed into the back bumper of the truck, pushing the front end of the car back into the tires and blowing them out. I struggled for control of the now maimed old truck, got her straightened out and headed on down the road. The sheriff car was turned sideways in the road with steam spewing out from under the hood. We turned off down an old county road about two miles further and saw another old pickup truck sitting there some distance from a fishing hole. “Jump out Jan and see if the keys are in it.” They were so she fired it up and took off, we followed her for a half-mile and I drove my truck off the road into the woods far enough from the road so it wouldn’t be found for hours or hopefully days.
We’re living in New York these days. We’ve gained a lot of experience in the last three years and have a nice little operation. We’re in the disposal business now. A broker calls us when clients need or want a problem solved and we make the problem go away, forever. These days it’s a very lucrative occupation. I owe it all to the plant shutdown. They gave me lemons and I made lemonade.
The End.
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
“Just meet me down by the Dairy Queen in 10 minutes.”
I hung up the phone and left the house. A car started up and seemed to follow at a distance until I turned into the Dairy Queen lot. Jean drove in about five minutes later. “Why did you say that we needed to talk and not over the phone, are you getting all spooked on me?”
“Things are happening I know, but I can’t really be sure of what they are. I talked to a guy in Saint Louis about ways to disappear, but he seemed not right. I got a call from a friend about that Mills asking questions about me and just now a car followed me all the way down here. They could have a tap on all of our phones; I don’t know.”
“Could they know what we did?” She asked.
“I think they do, but they don’t have enough evidence to arrest us or they would have by now.”
“What do we do?” Jean asked.
“I think we gather what money we can and get out of town.”
“They’ll know for sure if we all skip town,” Jean said.
“If we wait, Mills will figure it out sooner or later,” I conceded.
“I just don’t know,” Jean argued.
“Let’s go to the bank in the morning, all at different times, and take out most of our money. If anyone asks, we’re going on a vacation.”
“Ok, but I think you’re imagining things Bill.”
“I hope so Jean.”
The next morning I went by the bank and took out most of the money I had before I went to work. Jean left when I got there and she withdrew the majority of her funds. The teller asked what was going on? Jean answered: “Just going on a vacation,” and left the building. She glanced back and saw the teller pick up her phone. Jan waited for another hour before she went to the bank. When she asked for her savings the teller told her she would have to talk to the manager. Jan walked over to the manager’s office and went inside. “Hi Mike, what’s going on with my account?” Jan asked.
“A… We received a court order this morning to freeze your account. Beyond that, I don’t know.”
“Well what’s the reason,” Jan asked.
“Don’t know,” Mike replied. “Sorry Jan.” Jan left the bank and raced back to the shop. There was a sheriff’s car sitting a couple of hundred yards down the road when she walked in the door. “They wouldn’t give me my money!” she shrieked. “And there’s a sheriff car just down the road. They know we did it. They’re going to arrest us for sure! What do we do now?”
“We walk out the back door, climb into my truck and calmly drive down the alley and then out of town,” I answered. We started to do just that and by the time we were half way down the alley, the sheriff’s car was screeching tires and headed our direction.
Jan looked in the side mirror and said: “he’s gaining on us fast!”
We took the turn onto the road on two wheels and I gunned the truck for top speed. The sheriff car had much more horsepower than my old truck and was rapidly closing on us. I told the ladies to count three and brace themselves for impact. They did and I stood on my brakes. The still accelerating sheriff car was on us in a fraction of a second and slammed into the back bumper of the truck, pushing the front end of the car back into the tires and blowing them out. I struggled for control of the now maimed old truck, got her straightened out and headed on down the road. The sheriff car was turned sideways in the road with steam spewing out from under the hood. We turned off down an old county road about two miles further and saw another old pickup truck sitting there some distance from a fishing hole. “Jump out Jan and see if the keys are in it.” They were so she fired it up and took off, we followed her for a half-mile and I drove my truck off the road into the woods far enough from the road so it wouldn’t be found for hours or hopefully days.
We’re living in New York these days. We’ve gained a lot of experience in the last three years and have a nice little operation. We’re in the disposal business now. A broker calls us when clients need or want a problem solved and we make the problem go away, forever. These days it’s a very lucrative occupation. I owe it all to the plant shutdown. They gave me lemons and I made lemonade.
The End.
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
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