Diablo’s Bar and Grill was just about the meanest and nastiest biker haunt south of the Georgia line. There were no Honda Gold Wings or Yamahas lined up in front of Diablo’s-just Harley low-riders with ape handle bars, burn-out mufflers and as much other bad-ass stuff as the rider could find to make his bike look meaner than the next guy’s. Dirk usually found himself at Diablos one or two nights a week having a few drinks with his buddies, many of whom were also his customers.
The owner of Diablo’s was Bones Etchison, a legendary Harley guy, who contrary to his name, weighed almost four hundred pounds and claimed he had the picture of a Harley Sportster tattooed on each of his testicles. Scruffy and unkempt, and with a penchant for farting without restraint, even the most vile bikers who frequented the bawdy bar had never asked him to prove his claim on the tattoos.
Dirk leaned left and cruised to a stop in the parking spot in front of Diablo’s. It was only two in the afternoon, but there were already quite a few bikes lined up at the popular bar. He hopped off his bike and headed for the batwing doors on the front entrance. He bumped through the old West style saloon doors and looked around for the owner. He quickly located him a ways down the forty-two foot bar. Bones bragged that his bar was the longest in Florida. Dirk walked over and climbed onto a stool in front of the smiling owner.
“Usual?” Bones barked.
“What else?”
Bones yanked down on the handle of a nearby tap. He filled a large mug embossed with the Harley insignia on the side and set it in front of Dirk. Smoke curled in front of Bone’s chubby face from the small white stub of a cigarette that was always dangling from his mouth. It’s long, gray, ash perched precariously on the end. Dirk was always amazed that the ashes never seemed to fall off. A man of few words, Bones leaned on the bar for support, belched, and spoke to Dirk, “Selling anything over there?”
“Not much. A few used bikes now and then. That’s about it.”
Bones squinted through the smoke, “Payin’ the bills?”
Dirk gave Bones a longer than normal stare, a little uneasy about the probing question. “I’m trying to, but it ain’t easy. How about you? How’s your business?” The testy Dirk wanted Bones to answer some questions.
“Good. I think people drink more when they’re down on their luck.” Bones coughed up a laugh.
Dirk took a sip of his beer. In a way, he was glad Bones had brought up his business-it gave him a chance to pick his brain. “I got a question for you, Bones.”
“Okay.”
“Where do you think all of this business crap is heading? Do you think it will get better?” Bones had run a very good business for over twenty years and Dirk thought he might have some ideas that would help him at the bike shop without having to take Cathy Robert’s money.
“Nah.” Bones turned his thick thumb down. “The future don’t look good,” he groused.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, everybody’s running scared right now. They don’t know where things are going and they’re afraid that the politicians are going to make it worse. Most of the smart guys I see on TV think things will be flat for several more years.”
“No shit?” Dirk shook his head. “That doesn’t sound good.” Dirk was trying to gather as much information as he could before he made his decision. He was taking a huge risk and he wanted to be certain he had no other options for his business before he told Cathy Roberts yes. So far, the news had been bad from both Daisy and Bones. He had just about made his mind up, but he felt that he had one more possible option to explore. He dropped his elbows on the bar and spoke in a hushed voice, “You know I’ve never asked you for anything, Bones!”
Bones’ brow raised. He also leaned forward and spoke quietly taking Dirk’s lead. “No, you haven’t, not a damned thing.”
Dirk leaned a little closer; he was almost whispering now, “Things aren’t worth a shit at the shop. I’m in hock up to my ears.”
“Sorry to hear that. I’ve been trying to send as many customers your way as I can.”
“I know you have, Bones, but people just aren’t buying right now and they are repairing their own bikes instead of bringing them to me. It’s really bad. I’m almost a hundred grand in the hole. If I don’t get some cash soon, I may have to close up.”
Bones quickly leaned up and began nervously wiping the top of the bar. “I see where you’re going with this, Dirk, and I can’t help you. There’s nothing I can do.”
Dirk angrily snatched the towel out of Bones’ hand and tossed it at him. He aggressively pushed his face next to Bones’ face. “Listen to me, you fat son-of-a-bitch! I’ve been sending customers over here for over five years! Hell, half the people in here wouldn’t even know about this broken down piece-of-shit bar if it wasn’t for me! I’m in a jam and I need your help!
The bar suddenly got quiet. Several of the bikers rose out of their seats in case the popular owner needed their assistance.
Bones’ face flushed red from Dirk’s sudden attack. He didn’t want a brawl in his bar. He’d seen enough of them during his tenure as owner of the raucous saloon. He attempted to calm the situation. “It’s okay, boys, please sit down. It’s okay.” The bulbous owner smiled at them and pushed his hands toward the ground, but they didn’t budge.
Dirk, impervious to the other patrons, had his eyes fixed on Bones.
Bones avoided direct eye contact with the enraged Dirk, “Sit down! Damn it, Dirk, this place is ready to explode! I can explain things to you.”
Dirk held his stare for a few more seconds, and then he glanced around the room and saw the other bikers standing next to their tables glaring at him. He wasn’t frightened, but his anger had subsided somewhat, so he begrudgingly obeyed Bones’ request and eased back onto his stool.
Bones spoke quietly, “Listen, Dirk, I’m sorry you’re in a jam, I really am, but I’m not makin’ shit either. Yeah, this place is busy and all, but I got me five kids at home I have to feed. I’m paying support to my ex and I have an invalid sister and her dead-beat husband who I send four hundred clams a month. On top of that, I owe the hospital over two hundred thousand dollars for my wife’s lung cancer surgery last year. I promise you, my friend, at the end of the month I’ve barely got enough to pay my bills. And, that’s no bull shit!” He scanned Dirk’s face nervously.
Dirk was frightened, not by the scene in the bar-he was always ready for a fight-but he was frightened by the offer from Cathy Roberts and what it could do to his life. He was trying everything to keep from taking her up on her offer, and when Bones said he couldn’t help he knew that his options had all been exhausted and he overreacted. He exhaled slowly and shook his head. His anger had subsided fully now and he felt awkward. He knew that a lot of the boys in the bar were his customers and he realized what a stupid mistake he had made by losing his temper.
Bones, sensing Dirk’s distress, came to his aid. “Hey, fellas, everything’s all right. We all know that Dirk’s got a little temper on him.” There was muffled laughter in the bar. “But we love him and he runs one hell of a bike shop, don’t he, boys!”
“He sure as hell does!” one of men shouted. “He’s got the best bike shop in northern Florida!”
The other men nodded their approval and slowly, one by one, they began taking their seats. Dirk turned his head and cracked a tiny smile. He looked around the room and nodded, as if to say thanks. Soon all the men were once again seated and loud conversation filled the room. Dirk slowly raised his hand and he and Bones shared an aggressive high five; several of the men applauded.
“I guess I kind of lost it, Bones,” Dirk murmured.
“Oh hell, that’s all right.” Those things happen.”
Dirk’s cell phone suddenly rang; he glanced at his watch before answering it. It was three o’clock and he knew who was calling. Dirk slid the phone from his pocket and pointed his finger at it. Bones nodded and went to wait on a customer who had just saddled up to the bar a few seats away. Dirk flipped the lid on his cell and answered, “Yo, Dirk here.”
“Yes, Dirk, Cathy Roberts calling.”
“I know, I saw your number on my caller ID.”
“You have my number saved?”
“Yes. Hold on a minute, I’ve got to get outside. I’m in a bar right now and it’s a little noisy in here.”
“Okay.”
Dirk dropped the cell to his side and hurried from the bar. Once outside, he walked over and leaned against the warm leather seat on his Harley and lifted the cell to his ear. “Okay, I’m outside, now I can talk.”
“Well, I believe you know why I’m calling. Have you made a decision?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what is it?”
Dirk kicked at the loose gravel on the street next to his bike. “I’ll do it all right but this thing is risky and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison, do you understand?”
“Well, yes, certainly, but rest at ease, Mr. Harrison, I’ve thought this thing out and I’ve covered every contingency and nobody should get hurt here.”
“Well, that’s our first problem, Mrs. Roberts.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“If I’m gonna put my ass on the line, we’re gonna do it my way, not yours.”
Controlling by nature, Cathy became very agitated. “That’s just not possible, Mr. Harrison! I have a foolproof plan. I’ve thought it out, over and over again, and I know it will work.”
“You heard me!”
“Why, you creepy low-life,” she mumbled.
“What was that? What did you just say? I couldn’t hear you.”
Cathy bit her tongue. “Nothing, oh nothing.”
She was angry, so angry she couldn’t stand it. She fantasized poking his eyes out with an ice pick. She was furious. She had a perfect plan and now this uncouth barbarian wanted to take charge of things. She was upset but she needed him and he knew it. Dirk knew too much at this point. If she didn’t use him, an angry Dirk might go to the police and turn her in. She would be arrested, indicted, and as Dirk said earlier, possibly spend time in jail.
There was an agonizing silence on the other end of the phone. Dirk knew the muffled remarks were a putdown, but he didn’t want to fall victim to another heated outburst, so he collected himself and spoke quietly and slowly. “It’s my way or the highway, Mrs. Roberts. And one more thing, I want twenty thousand up front and the rest when I’m finished.”
“Why you … you can’t do that! I told you I would pay you when you finished the job and no sooner.” She worried that if she paid him twenty thousand up front, there would be a money trail right back to her-something she desperately wanted to avoid for her sake and for Eric’s.
“You heard me, lady.”
Cathy was livid. This unseemly ruffian was changing everything. She was having horrid visions of torturing him and then chopping up his body into a thousand pieces and feeding him to swarming school of piranhas. They were sick, depraved thoughts-the same thoughts she had when her husband Ed told her she couldn’t have something that she really wanted. She took a deep breath, composed herself and went on,” What if I gave you more money? Let’s say a hundred twenty thousand?”
An ugly grin broke out on Dirk’s narrow face, “You take me for a fool, Mrs. Roberts. You think I’m stupid. Well, you’re the dumb one, Mrs. Roberts. If you think I’m putting my ass on the line before getting any of the money, you’re nuts! I want twenty thousand up front and the rest when the job’s done, end of discussion!”
“I thought we had a good relationship, Mr. Harrison. I thought you trusted me. I’m surprised by your testy tone. I thought we were becoming friends. It’s very upsetting!”
Dirk roared in laughter. “Yeah, we’re real pals, lady. I was thinking about asking you to join the bridge club with me!” He roared again, even louder, and then he fell quiet, dead quiet for a few seconds, and then he spoke in a deep, sinister voice, “I never trusted you, lady, and I never will. You’re the only person I’ve ever met in this world who’s meaner than me. You’re one evil bitch. We’ll do it my way, and if you don’t like it, turn your cell off and leave me alone.”
Cathy cleared her throat, “Why you…..” she caught herself once again, took a deep breath and continued in her society lady tone. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Harrison, and unfortunately, I have very little choice.” She paused and continued in a pained, withdrawn tone, “I will agree to your new terms on two conditions.”
A couple of bikers came out the front door of Diablo’s. Dirk stood and walked about twenty feet down the sidewalk, away from the front door and out of earshot of the departing toughs. He pushed the phone closer to his ear. “Didn’t you hear me, bitch, I’m setting the agenda!”
Cathy had heard enough. “Now, you listen to me! We’re both going to be into this thing up to our eyeballs before it’s over, and you need me just as badly as I need you. My guess would be that you’ve discovered in the last twenty-four hours that your business is much worse than you thought and that none of your so-called friends will loan you a damned cent. Am I wrong?”
Dirk was amazed at the intuition of this nasty lady. He was impressed and taken aback. “Up yours, lady. You talk too much.”
“That’s what I thought. Now listen closely. This is the next to last cell phone conversation you and I will have. My husband owns a Harley, so one or two calls between us would not draw attention if an investigation ever ensued, but a whole series of calls over a several day period would raise all kinds of red flags. Plus, they can find out which cell phone towers were used for the calls and identify our locations at the time of the call. That would be way too much information for the authorities to have. We have to be extremely careful with our cell phones calls.”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t believe we should meet secretly. If somebody would happen to see the two of us meeting at an isolated location, they would know we were up to no good. I think that the best place for us to meet would be in a very public place. The Marion flea market is about ten miles north of Lady Lake on 27. It is a huge place with literally hundreds of product booths and it is usually very busy. That would be a great place for us to meet. We could rendezvous in the runway at various locations and nobody would think a thing of it. We would need to laugh and act friendly like two friends or neighbors who happened to run into each other while spending a fun day shopping at the flea market. We will both need to have a large cloth shopping bag with us so we can exchange notes into the other’s bag.”
“Where the hell am I going to get a shopping bag?”
“They sell them all over the place. It’s an environmental thing. They only cost fifty cents or something like that. Walmart sells them. Go to Walmart and get one.”
Dirk hocked a big one out into the street; the dust flew as it splattered to the ground. “Won’t I be cute, Dirk and his little shopping bag.”
Cathy chuckled, “Everybody at the flea market has a shopping bag. You won’t look that funny.”
“Huh!” He shook his head disgustedly. “It won’t work, lady. What if someone sees you drop a note in my bag?”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” Cathy grumbled. “Here’s what you do. While we are talking, you will open your bag as if you want to show me something that you have bought that day. I will have the message folded in the palm of my hand and when I reach up to pull your bag open to look in, I will drop the note in your bag, or vice-versa.”
“Sounds like a lot of BS to me.”
“There’s a lot at stake here, we can’t be too careful. Nobody would think a thing about two people who know each other talking in the middle of the flea market.”
“How are we going to know which booth to meet at? I’ve been there, that place goes on forever.” Dirk grunted.
“Good question. There’s a CVS Pharmacy just down the road from your shop and they have a bulletin board just inside the front entrance. As a public service, they allow the local citizens to post little ads on this bulletin board. Actually, you can post just about anything there. When I need to get you information, I will post a note on that bulletin board in the morning and sign it Kathy with a K instead of a C. No last name in case someone I know might read it. On the note I will write, for example, “Used books for sale” and I will include a fictitious phone number and sign it Kathy. You will know to meet me at two o’clock in the afternoon in front of the used books booth at the flea market.”
“Will we always meet at four?”
“Yes, if it’s any different, I will write a twelve or one, or whatever time it is, in the upper right hand corner of my note.
Dirk walked back to his bike and hopped aboard. He kicked the stand up and sat astride his bike staring through the front window at Diablo’s. “What about the money? How are you going to get me the money?”
“Same way. After we know the plan, we will meet for the first time at the market. I will have an extra bag with me and I will give it to you. It will be folded up with the money inside. You will thank me all over the place for loaning you an extra bag and then walk away with your money.”
“How will I know when you are going to put a message at CVS?”
“Can you hear the traffic out on 27 from your shop?”
“Are you kidding, it drives me nuts.”
“Good, on days I have a message I will drive by your shop on the way to CVS and honk my horn three times in a row. That will be your signal to go check the bulletin board.”
“What a bunch of Mickey Mouse BS,” he groused.
Cathy had had enough of his complaining, “This is not Mickey Mouse BS! What we are doing is extremely serious! If we don’t do it right, we could both end up in jail!”
Dirk clicked the key on his bike to the on position, “I gotta go.”
“One more thing! I think it would be perfectly natural for you to return a call to me from the shop. So we have one call left. Call me when you have your plan completed and give me all the details. You have my number on the screen of your cell.”
The Harley growled to a start and then sat chugging. “You’ll get your plans, lady. Just be sure you have the twenty grand ready when the times comes. I gotta go.” He clicked his cell off, pushed his heavy bike back onto the street, kicked the foot gear shifter into first and twisted the accelerator on the ape bar. The bike lurched forward and sped from the parking lot. Dirk’s mind was racing. Not a detailed person, he had to come up with a flawless plan to rid the world of Ed Roberts. That bitch is going to be the death of me. He twisted hard on the accelerator; the front tire lifted off of the ground briefly and then banged against the asphalt as the bike shot forward. His black hair blew straight in the stiff breeze, his dark eyes burned in the hot wind as he raced toward town.