PREACHER
TWO HOURS LATER
The car’s windows were rolled up and the smell of wet socks and cigarettes hung in the stolen truck as I tried to persuade Lourdes to see my logic. There was 1.2 million dollars possibly stashed in the make-shift police station, my 1.2 million dollars that I had dreamed of and planned for in a prison cell for over a decade and I was determined to get it with her or without her. Although, I wanted her with me.
Nearly an hour ago, after we got away from Tommy’s house, we went to the mall and purchased a nice getup for her to wear. I bought her six-inch stiletto heels and a mini-skirt so short you could see her butt cheeks when she strutted. I also got her a hot pink blouse that showed so much cleavage, you could almost see her nipples. With seething disdain, she hated when I bought it and from the way she continued to cut her eyes at me, I could see she hated me too.
“Babe, in order for the plan to work, I need you to wear the clothes I bought at the mall.”
With her lips tight across her face Lourdes turned to me. “So this is what you think of me? You want me to dress like a whore for your benefit? All for some money?”
“Lourdes, don’t think like that.” I groaned and reached to caress her thigh but she cut me off.
“Stop,” she yelled popping me one good time in the chest. I watched her nostrils flair with indignation. She looked at me with tears brimming in her eyes. By then, the inside of the car was hot and fusty.
“I don’t like this feeling, Preacher. I’m done with this life.”
I reached for her again, and she batted my hands down and resisted. We struggled until, finally, I had her in my arms as she huffed and puffed fuming mad. I held her tight against my chest.
“Baby, I’m not trying to use you. I just want a better way of life for you and my child. If the money is there and we pull this off, I want to marry you and go far away from here.”
“And if the money is not there, what are we going to do then? Think, Preacher!” She caught me off guard and I was at a loss for words.
“The money’s going to be there.”
As angry as I was, she was right. What if the money was gone?
****
The plan was simple we would walk in to case the joint; to see how many cops were inside and how the place was structured. Lourdes would perform her God given talent of flirting with men. Only this time, she would also be flirting with danger. Meanwhile, I needed to find out if the money was still in the vent.
We walked into the station into a whir of noises—someone was typing on a computer, a police radio blared, and there was a smell of new paint and fresh wood. A counter hugged the perimeter of the office. My heart sank as soon as we entered. Nothing was as I remembered it. The place had been gutted and rebuilt.
The sound of Lourdes’ high heels clicking across the wood floor caused several cops to look up from what they were doing as she strolled to the counter to file a missing persons report, as planned. I walked beside her with two large duffle bags stashed inside my backpack and a nine-millimeter tucked in my pants. I donned a pair of shades and a fitted Baltimore Ravens cap with a black jacket.
The obese officer, who was eating something when we walked in, took one look at Lourdes and rose from his desk so fast he stumbled. He wore a white shirt with a dirty yellow collar and his huge belly hung over his belt. A fringe of gray hair covered his temples, but the top of his head was completely bald and shiny. I could see why he worked at a sub police station instead of a real one; he was a fat slob.
“May I help you?” he asked looking down at Lourdes‘ breasts as she intentionally leaned over the counter showing him oodles of cleavage.
I watched his eyes bulge and then he averted his stare over to me as if giving me a quick once over.
He looked back at her and asked again, “May I help you?”
Lourdes went into her improvised spiel. “My sister, Bernadine Bell is missing and I’m so worried,” she said frantically. “This is so unlike her.”
“Well what happened?”
“I’m not sure. All I can be certain of is that she didn’t come home last night. And I’m here because I would like to file a missing persons report.” Lourdes thrust her breasts forward with a distraught expression on her face as I stole several glances around the place. Nothing looked even remotely familiar. I wasn’t sure where my money was and my heart sank.
The burley cop smiled for all the wrong reasons, and then glanced over at his partner who was slender and looked about the same age. He loosened his tie ogling Lourdes, giving her his full attention. On his cluttered desk were a coffee cup, several portraits of children and a bronze medal in a case.
The fat cop turned his eyes back to Lourdes. “Ma’am there is really nothing we can do unless she’s been missing for at least forty-eight hours.” The cop said matter-of–factly.
To my surprise, Lourdes broke down crying real tears and I found myself fascinated. I wondered, if chicks could summon fake tears on a whim, and just how many times had she done that to me?
The cop looked over at me and I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s our sister and she has never disappeared before,” I said and then looked around the officer. I spotted a door by the water cooler and tried to imagine would that be the bathroom.
“How old is she?” the slender cop seated at the desk asked.
“She’s forty,” Lourdes cried harder causing the thin lace holding up her blouse to fall, exposing more cleavage.
The obese officer standing in front of Lourdes raised his eyebrow and pretended like he wasn’t looking at her breasts when he asked, “Does she use drugs? Has this ever happened before?”
“She dabbled in drugs. Well, actually, she smoked crack from time to time but she promised me, and the rest of the family, that she stopped last week.” She paused. “Of course, this was after she stole our mother’s purse.”
The two officers exchanged knowing glances. The slender officer smirked at his partner, and then faked a cough, which was really a laugh. He then got up from his desk, grabbed a napkin and walked over and passed it to Lourdes as he gazed at her breasts too, then over at me.
“Maybe your sister just took a long smoke break. If I were you, I wouldn’t be worried ‘bout it.”
She began to wail so hysterically that, for a moment, I thought she was overdoing it. That was until I saw how both cops were looking at her. She definitely held their attention.
“You got a bathroom ‘round here?” I asked. “I need to take a leak bad.” I was squirming.
“Yeah, over there.” The obese cop pointed without even looking in my direction as his partner passed Lourdes another napkin for her tears.
“Oh, thank you such much,” Lourdes said.
I walked off as she placed her hand on the slender officer’s arm. His partner looked on with his mouth agape, drooling at her.
I entered the bathroom. It looked the same except it had been painted egg shell white and paper towels littered the floor. There was an awful odor of disinfectant and shit, and the mirror was dirty. Two stalls had been added, but I didn’t see a vent anywhere. My heart pounded in my chest.
“Fuck!” I cursed out loud and heard my voice echo as I walked over and pulled back the first stall door and looked up.
Nothing!
I walked over to the next stall and looked up. There it was, the vent. It had been painted over. Even the screws. I reached into my backpack and retrieved the screwdriver and pliers I had brought for the occasion. As soon as I stepped up on the toilet to balance myself I nearly slipped and fell and the screwdriver fell on the floor. I was making too much noise.
I waited and listened.
Silence.
I got back down and picked up the screwdriver and then went to work. First, I had to chisel the paint off the screws then one by one I took them out. By then, I was sweating like a runaway slave. All someone had to do was walk into the bathroom and I was cold busted.
I took the last screw out and popped off the stubborn vent panel with a squeak. I peered inside at darkness as my eyes adjusted. Large cockroaches scurried about and there was a thick spider web hanging inside. Hot air blasted me in the face so hard it made my eyes water as I placed my head inside. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath.
I continued blindly groping the air when it suddenly occurred to me. The money was gone. It felt like my heart was hemorrhaging. I went into panic mode.
The money was gone.
My hopes and dreams went with it.
I climbed back down off toilet seat with a feeling of hurt and despair like I’d never experience before as my mind continued to race.
“The money’s gone,” I muttered to myself.
I sat on the toilet seat and ignored the bugs and critters that had crawled on me. My eyes began to brim with tears. I wiped my face with a dirty hand and looked back up at the vent. That’s when something told me to stand on top of the iron pipe protruding from the wall above the toilet; that would allow me to reach at least a foot deeper inside the vent, I thought as I absent mindedly swiped at a large, black spider climbing up my chin.
I hoisted myself up and teetered on the pipe. It wasn’t as sturdy as I thought and it threatened to break under my weight as I again reached my hand inside as deep as it would go. Then I felt something. My heart soared. On my tiptoes, I leaned in, straining my fingers as they inched forward. A bug crawled across my face in search of shelter in my nose. I was able to grab whatever it was and pull it toward me. It was heavy and huge. As soon as I got it into the light, I realized what it was.
The money! I had the money!
Instantly, I was overjoyed. I was also covered in dirt, debris and bugs.
As fast as I could, I began to stuff the money into the clean duffle bags and giggled out loud.
With the quickness, I wiped myself clean and rinsed my hands and face. I didn’t even bother to put the screws back in the vent. I just covered it, picked up the two clean duffle bags I had not walked in with, and headed out the door.
****
I walked out to see Lourdes seated in a chair filling out some paperwork. Her cleavage was still on display and I saw a few of the men praying for their younger days as they ogled her sumptuous hips and thighs. I could tell she had really been putting on a show.
When she saw me walk out she looked at me with a sober expression. She looked somewhat angry.
So far, the cops hadn’t noticed the extra bags I was carrying because of how I was positioned in front of the counter.
But for some reason, the slender cop was staring at me. He said, “You were in that bathroom a long damn time.”
I played it off and let out a dry laugh as sweat bead cascaded down the middle of my chin. Lourdes stood up and walked in the direction of the counter.
Then, to my dismay, the cop suddenly stood, prepared to walk toward me. Something had piqued his curiosity; something made him want to come harass me as he looked suspiciously between Lourdes and I. He was on to us.
Just as the officer moved from behind the counter, Lourdes sneezed and knocked over a coffee cup, soiling his pants with hot coffee. He cursed at her like a sailor.
I seized the moment and stealthily walked out the door with my hand on my nine. The other officer was too busy looking at Lourdes’, as she attempted to wipe the officer down, to notice. But there was no doubt in my mind that if anyone had tried to stop me, I would have murdered them cold.