Chapter 11

After dinner with the Jerry-atrics, Reginald returned to his office to work on plans to save Sunny Crest. Re-energized by pasta and the support of his new allies, he madly wrote notes and made calculations. This would not be an easy task, but ideas circled his head like the butterflies from the day before.

By ten p.m. he had a path in sight. If only he could increase the occupancy rate and escape any additional major expenses. He regarded his final numbers, satisfied that he could turn Sunny Crest around. He was collecting all his notes in a neat stack to wrap up for the day, when he heard the sound of a door squeaking open. He raised his gaze from his paperwork.

A man in a black ski mask rushed into the office and brandished a pistol. “Okay, Edwards, we’re going for a little ride.”

Reginald stared back, trying to maintain his composure. “You have the wrong person. I’m not Edwards.”

The man chuckled. “Nice try. I’ve been hired to show you that your loan officer means business.”

“It won’t do you any good to kidnap me. Edwards resigned, and I’m the new guy taking his place. My name is Reginald Bentley.”

The ski mask guy shook his gun. “That’s a good one. No one would really have that stupid a name. Get up, Edwards.”

Reginald stood. “Where are we going?”

“On a little one-way ride.”

Reginald scanned the room. Although the walls still remained bare, he would miss his office if this guy planned to dump his body in a reservoir. Think. He had to delay any way he could. Only one thought came to mind. “You didn’t set off a stink bomb in my office, did you?”

The guy snorted. “What the hell are you talking about? If I set off a bomb it would blow this place to smithereens. Now, you and I have some business to settle.”

“Your boss will be mighty pissed off when he finds out you wasted all this time on the wrong person. Let me show you my identification.” Reginald reached for his pocket.

The man pushed the pistol under Reginald’s chin. “Keep your hands where they are. No sudden moves or I’ll take care of you right here.”

Reginald pulled his hands away from his pants. “I’m only trying to save you some trouble. You’d look pretty dumb taking the wrong person.”

The man raised a fist. “Who you calling dumb?”

Reginald winced. “No one. But don’t you think it would be better to check it out first?”

The man shrugged. “Nah. No skin off my back.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Enough jabbering.” He pointed toward the door. ”Move.”

Too bad Reginald’s parents never sprang for any martial arts training. And even if the guy didn’t have a gun, he held the advantage by a good fifty pounds and looked like he had been doing weight work rather than shuffling paperwork. This was a hell of a predicament for an accountant to be in.

Reginald should have been shaking with fear, but the situation seemed so bizarre that the implications hadn’t really sunk in yet. Between the old fogies and the shenanigans around this place, he wondered if he should pinch himself to find if he’d sunk into some weirdo dream. Unfortunately, he remained wide awake.

The masked man marched him out of the office and to the outer door of the business area. Reginald reached for the handle trying to make as much noise as possible.

The masked man grabbed his shoulder. “Stand still.” He peeked out the door and then motioned Reginald through it.

Reginald tried to veer toward the elevator, but the man clasped his arm and steered him in the direction of the stairwell. With a not too gentle shove they continued down the stairs. Reginald almost tripped but regained his balance. Would it be better to die on the staircase or at the hands of some hired psychopath?

On the first floor the kidnapper again checked before they exited the stairwell. He prodded Reginald toward the loading dock.

This guy meant to do him bodily harm. Reginald began to sweat. The realization struck him that this was no laughing matter. If he shouted none of the hearing-aid-assisted residents would notice. And if one of the old limping geezers showed up, what good would it serve? Probably end up with a whack on the head from the assailant. He couldn’t risk hurting anyone else in the process. Think. What were his options?

No one around. Where was the damn security guard when needed?

Out on the loading dock they moved into the shadows away from the one small bulb, and down the stairs.

Behind them a voice rang out. “Drop the gun, scumbag!”

The captor’s pistol bounced off onto the surface of the loading dock bay.

“Down on the ground.”

Suddenly the grip on Reginald’s shoulder released, and he heard a body thumping down on the cement. He turned to see Jerry Rhine pressing the end of a broomstick against the back of the kidnapper, now spread-eagled face down on the dock bay floor. Reginald felt a surge of elation at the sight of this octogenarian holding a young thug in check.

“Grab the gun, Reggie.”

He duly picked it up. It felt heavy and smelled of oil. He had never been a gun person. He didn’t know how to fire the damn thing. If action were required, he’d probably shoot Jerry by mistake. He pointed it at the hit man, his hand shaking.

“What say we blow this guy away?” Jerry gave a wink. “Perfectly legal under the Colorado make-my-day law.”

A moan emerged from the flattened figure.

“We don’t need any further bloodshed on this dock,” Reginald said. “Would you please explain to this thick-headed thug who I am? He thinks I’m the previous director named Edwards.”

Jerry bent over the figure. “He’s correct. This gentleman you’ve been harassing is none other than Reggie Bentley the Third. Not to be confused with the incompetent Edwards who left a week ago. You understand?”

The man mumbled, “Yes.”

Jerry jabbed him in the back again with the broomstick. “Now you have three choices. We can blow you away right now. Maybe do it in pieces—a knee, the groin, the chest, the head. Second, we can call the police. Or third, we can let you hightail it out of here to inform your boss that Edwards has jumped ship.”

“I’ll take number three,” came a faint response.

“You have chosen wisely. Get your butt out of here.”

The man raised himself to all fours, stood, dashed into the darkness and disappeared out of sight.

Jerry chuckled. “I saved your tush, Reggie. For a moment I considered letting him take you away, but then figured since you’ve started acting human, it would make no sense to break in another retirement home director.”

Reginald relaxed his tense shoulders. “Thanks, Jerry.”

“You may want to wipe your fingerprints off that gun and throw it into the dumpster.”

Not wanting to deal with the police about an issue that was now over, Reginald found an oily rag, wiped the gun, lifted the lid to the smelly dumpster and deposited the weapon inside.

They climbed the stairs to the dock level. “What brought you out here in the first place, Jerry?”

“I come out here to think and get away from all the old farts. I can only take so much of being around old people.” He elbowed Reginald in the ribs.

“I know what you mean.”

“And here I thought you were tottering on the brink of liking the older generation, Reggie.”

“You’re definitely different from my preconceptions.”

Jerry slapped him on the back. “You’re learning, Reggie.” With that he gave the door to the building a tap, pulled it open and held it for Reginald to go inside first.

“I thought this door was locked. How’d you do that?”

“Just a little trick of the trade, Reggie. Good night.”