The Plodder's Mile -- Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

As the sun was coming up, Ray was looking for a good place to hide the car, but all there was in this part of the state was farms. He began looking for a dirt road to go down, and maybe he would be able to find some thick growth to hide the car in. On the left of the road, Ray saw a gap in the trees, and just past the big red barn, he turned down the road. It wound around for quite a while, and Ray decided after about half a mile that he was far enough from the main road and the thick trees here would hide the car, too. He pulled over and got out of the car and stretched. Ray had been driving for about two hours, and the way he figured, if he waited the rest of this day, cops wouldn’t looking as hard for Larry’s car as they do right away.

As he stretched, Ray decided it was time to admire his handiwork, and grabbed the bundle from the back seat. Pulling off the wrapping, Ray admired the green bills. Then he cut through the twine that was holding the whole package together. He pulled off the first bill and saw the stack of paper underneath. He flipped down a few more. Paper.

Pulling the stack in half, he tossed the paper to the ground, looking desperately for the money for which he had killed two people. At the bottom of the pile he found nine more bills. He counted the total take – only $1800!

Ray kicked the side of the car, putting a huge dent in the door. He screamed out loud to no one in particular. He grabbed the paper which had surrounded the bundle and pulled it flat, searching for another $100 bill. It was then he saw the evidence sticker that was stuck to the bottom of the wrapper.

John Graham. 130 Walnut. A phone number. It was a receipt for $1800.

Ray stared at the paper for over a minute, trying to turn over the possibilities. The police had pulled him in like a fish. But did the police have the money? It could be in a bank safe somewhere else, but then why would this guy’s name be on it? They used the $1800 to get him to come collect the bundle, probably hoping to catch him then. Well, the cop who thought that up was either dead or had a bullet hole in him. But what about this address?

Slowly Ray walked around the car, pushing the fake paper bills away from the car with his feet. The wind was blowing them down the dirt road. He took the $1800 from his pocket and looked closely at them. The serial numbers were consecutive. But the rest of the money was missing.

What did it mean?

John Graham was at home thinking hard about the mess he had created for himself. A gangster was out there somewhere wondering where the rest of his money had gone. His best friend had been shot because John wanted to keep money he found on the railroad tracks. His wife kept asking him what was wrong.

He decided to go jogging and think. “I’m sorry, Reba,” John explained. “I think I’m just worried about Greg. I’ll be back in just a bit.” Then he was out the door. He began thinking about running his fourth marathon. He wished he was running a marathon right now. Then he would have five hours to think.

Five hours was a terrible time for most marathon runners. But John was just proud to be able to finish, even though the runners who won the race could have run the course twice in that amount of time. It really did give you a sense of accomplishment to finish 26.2 miles, even if you were plodding while you were doing it.

When you hit the 18 and 19 mile markers you weren’t sure if you would make it. Even though the biggest part was behind you, the “wall” runners talk about hitting becomes a massive stone behemoth ready to fall across you. And at that point in the race, you would be happy for a wall of rock to fall on you. But the 20 mile mark was magic, because you knew only 6.1 miles was left. The difference between 6.1 and 7.1 miles might as well have been 10 miles instead of just one.

Maybe he was just in the last mile before the ending was in sight. Would he give up the money now, and regret not having gone that last mile? Just like when he was running a marathon, John thought to himself that most difficulties were overcome by mental toughness, and not necessarily by sheer strength. John jogged across the railroad tracks again, thinking about how these tracks had started the problems he now found himself in.

John dug in and decided he could have the mental toughness to finish what he had started. This “wall” he felt pressing up against him would be temporary. Unless the real “wall” was hidden somewhere up ahead.

Ray was a slow thinker, but he was methodical. It only took about an hour, and he thought he had figured out where the money was, and what this guy named John Graham had done. Ray figured this guy had hid it somewhere, probably in his house, and was hoping the bank wouldn’t figure it out. Maybe this John guy hoped Ray would get caught, go to jail for the robbery and the money would never be found.

Ray clenched his fists at the thought of someone else spending the money while he rotted in jail. There was no way that was going to happen, and Ray had a pretty good idea how to get his money back.

Then Ray noticed some motion further down the road. As the shape in the distance got closer, Ray could tell it was a man carrying a gun. It could be a hunter, or it could be the cops. But then why would one person being walking up, without even a warning? Just to be safe, Ray hid the revolver in his coat pocket.

“Howdy.” The man in the overalls spoke first.

“Hey,” said Ray. “Out hunting?”

“Nah, just out shooting some old ammunition,” said the old timer, who looked to be over 70 to Ray. “Car trouble?”

“Nah. Just needed to stretch my legs for a while. I thought this road maybe led to a lake or somethin’,” said Ray, relaxing a bit.

“There is a lake just around the corner of the fence”, pointed the old geezer, using his gun to point and then waving it in Ray’s direction. Ray tried hard not to flinch.

“Thanks. I might drive down and check it out,” said Ray. “Good fishing in the lake?”

“Not bad” said the man. “Just be careful about the game warden. He don’t like it when I catch too many fish.” The old guy chuckled, and Ray got back in his car and said “thanks” again. Ray thought he might just camp out by the lake until tomorrow. Spending a night by the lake wouldn’t be too bad, and by then the heat should be off.

A gunshot made Ray jump in his seat. He looked back in the car mirror. A crow fluttered to the ground. The old guy walked over and kicked it with his foot.

It was after 8:30 by the time Greg arrived back at Paula’s room. As he knocked slowly, he could hear her in the room straightening up. Probably making him wait because he made her wait. Well, he was late.

But when the door opened, Paula’s face turned from irritation to concern. “What was happened to you?”

“I’ve been shot.”

He wasn’t sure she believed him, but then she looked from his arm, up to his face and then back to his arm. She couldn’t get him in the room and down on a chair fast enough.

Ray sat quietly by the lake planning his revenge. He hoped there was a family in the picture, because that always made getting what you wanted easier. Every once in a while, he heard the old farmer’s rifle, and Ray pictured John Graham being shot by Larry’s gun – being held in Ray’s hand. Too bad he didn’t have a picture to make the visualization complete. That would come later.

“You mean you got shot because of my report!” Paula pushed Greg’s good shoulder, which made him wince because his whole body moved. She was immediately repentant, saying, “Oh, I’m sorry, did that hurt your arm? I can’t believe you almost got killed because of me.” She was on the verge of tears.

“Calm down, it’s not your fault,” said Greg. “Remember, I’m the one who made the phone call and asked you to do the story. We just didn’t think this guy would be so serious about getting his money so soon.”

“We?”

“Sorry,” Greg apologized, “we means Smitty – Harold Smith, one of my old friends who is the state investigator. You’ve met him.”

Paula looked confused. “But I thought you told me he didn’t get his money, just a small part of it.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know all the money wasn’t there, and I purposely decided not to tell you. And you were smart enough not to ask,” smiled Greg, wondering why of all the jerks in the world, she had settle on this jerk who had just admitted using her.

“Don’t you ever ask me to put you in danger again,” she warned. “I’ve spent far too much time trying to get to this point in my life without you dying on me.” She reinforced the point by gently sitting down next to him and laying her head on his chest. “You need me around to take care of you, it looks like,” she purred. “And I sure as hell need you around to take care of me.”

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