Tom Simpson - Sink

“Shut up, you freak. You belong in a sideshow. You know we don’t have time for that kind of foolishness. We’ve got to pick up some quick cash if we’re going to have enough gas money to get to Florida and besides, I want to buy some real food in a restaurant somewhere. I’m tired of all this fast food crap. I want a big steak to build up my energy level before I take on the resort. Now just keep your eyes peeled for a little store as soon as I get off the highway. Remember, it needs to be an independent, not a chain store. The security is almost nil in that little mom and pop type stores and they don’t have a cash drop like the other stores.”

Frank Medford turned right at the next exit and headed north then east scouting out an easy target. “Dave and Lonnie’s Liquor Lounge” caught Frank’s eye as he slowly cruised past a shabby yellow and red brick building standing by itself on a barren red patch of Georgia clay. He circled around the block and parked about two hundred yards away from the building in front of a deserted playground.

“Ok Carrie. You get behind the wheel and get ready to take off quickly when I come back. If the Indian princess makes a sound, you have my permission to smack her up the side of the head.”

Frankie opened the driver’s door and climbed out. He reached under the seat and removed a thirty-eight-caliber snub nose pistol that he then placed in his waistband under his shirt.

“Just remember Carrie. Honk the horn if you see anybody driving by that looks like they are going to pull into the store. I won’t be but a minute and then we can blow this stupid town. Just remember. Keep your eyes open.”

Frank Medford walked casually down the side of the road, glancing, he hoped, not suspiciously in all directions. He pushed open the wooden entrance door and heard the sound of a buzzer from deep within the building. He looked to the right as he entered the package store and saw a passageway leading into a darkened room. The sound of a drawly country song drifted from the hallway and a fiftyish year old man emerged from the gloom heading his way.

“Afternoon son. Hot one out there isn’t it. You want a cold beer from the bar to cool you off.”

“Naw.” Frankie replied. “I just want to get a bottle of rum to go.”

“We have about five different kinds.” the liquor store operator said. “What we’ll be your pleasure?”

Frank pointed to a bottle of Ron Rico dark and when the gray haired man had his back turned to reach for the bottle, Frank pulled out the gun from under his shirt.

“Just leave the bottle, pops. All I want is the money out of the register. Now hand it over quick.”

The man reaching for the cash drawer moved his right foot toward the alarm button built into the bottom edge of the cabinet below the cash register. Frankie, seeing the quick movement

of the man’s leg yelled before he could make contact with the button.

“You idiot.” Shot out of Frank Medford’s mouth at the same time a thirty-eight slug shot out of the pistol. “Look what you made me do.”

The words were lost in the air as Frank watched a very nicely centered hole appear in the man’s forehead. Frank reached over and grabbed the cash out of the partially opened drawer and was heading toward the door before the dead man fully slumped to the floor. Frank pushed opened the door and was almost through it when he heard a shout coming from the bar room.

“What’s going on Dave?” Came a female voice just as the door was closing on Frank’s departing figure. “Oh my God, you’ve been shot.”

The van, with Carrie behind the wheel, came roaring up to Frank as he ran down the road away from the liquor store. He ran to the passenger side, wrenched the door open, and jumped inside before the van had come to a complete stop.

“Haul butt, white boy. I just shot some fool that tried to set off an alarm The old dame that came out of the bar didn’t get a good look at me so we need to make tracks and then we’ll be safe. I hope.”

“Did you kill him Frankie? I never saw a dead guy before. Was it neat? I wish I could have watched.”

“Look just drive back to the interstate. We need to get to Florida as soon as we can. I don’t want to be in Georgia any more.”

Sam(Stretch)Sidel had been working on the details of the resort job in Florida for over a month and he felt that all the fine details were falling nicely into place. He had called Frank Medford at least a dozen times to ask about how they should do this and how they should do that. Frank had one of the most brilliant criminal minds that Stretch had ever met and Frank could answer just about any question about what would happen if any particular thing would go wrong and what they could do to counter the situation. Frank liked the way they were going to disable the guards and he even suggested a back up plan if that didn’t work.

Stretch had worried how he was going to get to Florida, how Terry was going to get to Florida, how they were going to get the chemical from Long Neck Luther to inject into the guards and how Stretch was going to have enough money to get to Florida and survive the whole month waiting till the resort opened. Frank had the answers to all these problems and then some. Frank had told Stretch to grab a pen and some paper and to start writing. Frank was going to solve all of Stretch’s worries and make the day sunshine bright.

“First off,” Frank told Stretch, “You and Terry are going to Florida in style. You will be driving a one year old Cadillac with all the trimmings,” he had continued. It seems Frank had been busy on his aunt’s computer searching the newspaper classified ads for all the surrounding areas. He told Stretch he had looked in the personal ads for people who were planning to go to Florida for an extended visit and didn’t want to drive down but, wanted their vehicle delivered. He had made a lot of calls till he found the perfect one. An elderly couple in Dayton were going to Orlando in the first part of July and wanted someone special to take their car down there and treat it with tender loving care. Frank had told them that he was a wealthy industrialist and his son was picking up a new Ferrari at about the same time in Tampa but, he was afraid to fly. Frank had even suggested that his son Sammy would deliver the car for free but, the couple were so pleased with the idea that they were putting in five hundred dollars for expenses and that they wouldn’t take no for an answer. “That,” Frank had told Stretch, “takes care of how you and Terry will get to Florida. You also can stop by your buddy Long Neck Luther in Kentucky on your way down and pick up what you need to handle the guards at the resort. The only thing left is a little matter of having enough money to live on till you leave. I know you have already spent the five hundred I gave you before you left Ohio. I have a perfect plan for you to make some quick easy cash so listen carefully.”

“I know you won’t like this idea, but it will work if you follow my plan exactly. In the past you always targeted old ladies and soaked them for as much money as you could get, but you always were impatient and stole what you could including their car and always got caught. This time, they will happily hand you the money and think you did them a big favor so there is no way they will call the cops on you. Thanks to my aunt’s computer and laser printer I have printed out some items that will guarantee you a windfall of cash with no questions asked. First of all, I printed you a letter of credit drawn on The First State Bank showing a credit line of four and one half million dollars. It really looks authentic because I used my aunt’s notary stamp she uses in her part time realty business. I even got the name of the president and vice president of the bank and forged their signatures on expensive document letterhead. I printed you up a stack of business cards, with your name gold embossed which list you as senior vice president of a fake investment firm. You are going to go to one of those ballroom dance studios where all the rich old ladies hang out and find one that is dripping with expensive jewelry and get her off to the side and tell her she is the best dancer you have ever seen. You are then going to tell her privately that you are representing a company that is interested in opening a new dance studio and you need a spokesperson who is a wonderful dancer to be a charter member to represent how beneficial this new dance studio will be to new members. You will tell her that she will be driven around in a stretch limousine to all the charity events and other places where potential clients will be and she will be represented as Ms. Ballroom Dancer of the Year because of her unique talent. Once you got her thoroughly convinced she is the best dancer you have ever seen, you spring on her the fact that you need five thousand dollars for her charter membership fee. She will probably balk at this so you whip out a preprinted form that I have already made stating that her membership fee is fully refundable after she makes only six appearances representing the company. You will tell her that the company requires the money as good faith money so they don’t spend all the promotional money on someone who would fail to show up at the various events. You will reassure her that you know for a fact that she would never fail to show up, but the company you are representing has certain rules and you have to abide by them. I am sending you another two hundred dollars so that you can go to the Salvation Army and buy the most expensive suit you can find and shoes that will make you look like a wealthy business man. I want you to also arrive in a rented limo and take the balance of the money and turn it into one dollar bills with a twenty on each side of the stack so it looks like a wad of money. After you arrive in a limo and flash the money around, you will be a shoe in. If it doesn’t work on the first lady you approach, go to a different dance studio and try someone else. I guarantee you will find one in no time with a big enough ego that it can’t miss. I will be sending you the money this afternoon via Western Union so you can get started right away. Good luck even though I know you won’t need it.