Prophet X

The Dope Man

The Dope Man

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LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

“You do not think I’m easy, do you?” Janine asked.

They were in the bedroom. She had simply got up and followed him down the hall to the bedroom. She looked at the bed which appeared to be made. That was surprising: A guy making his own bed.

Dollar looked at her confused, and then looked down at the bed. “Oh,” he said and turned red. “I put the stuff here. I put it here because I really could not think of a better place to put it, and I heard the sirens coming… So I stuffed it under the bed.” He explained.

“Oh,” she said. “I thought… Never mind.”

Dollar turned a deeper red. He moved to the side of the bed and picked up the blanket that trailed onto the floor. The underside of the bed was crammed with duffel bags and suitcases.

“I’ll pick up the box springs and you pull the stuff out. It’s the only way I could get it under there quick.” He squatted, picked up one corner of the box springs and mattress and lifted it from the frame. Janine began pulling everything out onto the floor.

Outside a car door slammed.

“Fuck,” Dollar squeaked.

Janine picked up bags and began shoving them back under the bed: Pushing them deep under the bed with her feet. Dollar wrenched the mattress and box springs back up and she dumped the rest back in, struggling with the suitcases.

Dollar lowered the box spring, starting to breathe hard with panic. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He smoothed the blanket over the corner of the bed once more, and then turned and headed out of the bed room: As he walked into the living room someone began to knock on the front door that opened into the kitchen. Dollar looked out the peephole only to find a young guy with thick, curly black hair staring back at him. A camera hung around his neck, a clip board in his hand.

Dollar took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then opened the door.

“Mister Dollar?” the young guy asked. He looked even younger than Dollar was.

“Yeah,” Dollar said. It was never any good when someone called you by your government name.

“I have to take some pictures. You know, out back. That okay?” He held up the camera.

“Yeah… Go ahead,” Dollar said, relieved. He started to shut the door.

“Uh… Hold on… You got to sign.” He smiled and offered Dollar the clipboard, tapping with one finger where the signature should go.

Dollar had let go of the door when he took the clipboard. The door swung open to reveal Janine who stood behind him. The young guy looked up at her from his place on the rickety wooden steps.

“Oh… Hey,” the guy said.

“Hey,” Janine returned. She turned on her best three hundred watt smile and the guy returned it.

Dollar scratched out a reasonable version of his name and then handed the clip board back to the kid.

“Cool,” he said. He glanced at Janine once more. “I won’t be long.” He turned away and walked toward the end of the trailer and the back yard. Dollar shut the door and they both sighed.

“Says he won’t be long… Hopefully he won’t… Want another beer?” Dollar asked.

“Sure,” Janine agreed. She wandered over to the couch and sat down. Dollar took a beer to her and then sat down at the other end of the couch. The T.V. was still playing low and it amazed Dollar that it could still be playing after all that had happened. An infomercial for a new mini washing machine that washed just a few items at a time came on and caught his attention for a few moments. Janine pulled his attention away from the T.V.

“What was in the paper bag?” she asked.

“Do not know. It was in the glove box of the Ford…. The car out back,” he finished.

“I can tell a Ford from a Toyota,” Janine said. “So, three duffel bags and two suitcases?”

He nodded.

“That one suitcase is heavy… The melted one?”

He nodded. “That’s the one I pulled out of the Toyota while it was burning… That blue duffel bag I pulled out of the Ford is heavy too.”

“That was crazy,” Janine said. “It could have blown up or something.”

“Yeah… I thought about that afterward,” Dollar admitted. He got up and crossed to the T.V., pushing aside the curtain that covered the window that looked out over the back yard.

The guy was taking measurements, and both close up and distant shots of the tree with a digital camera. He looked up and saw Dollar at the window and waved. Dollar waved back and then came back over to the couch and sat down.

“Do you realize it’s almost two hours after the fact?” Dollar asked her.

Janine looked at him.

“Just makes me wonder if we’ll ever look inside those bags today or not. And eventually I have to get hold of someone for that pot… Probably the coke too,” he added.

“Is that smart?” Janine asked.

“What do you mean?” Dollar returned.

“Just that, that’s a lot of stuff, somebody’s going to miss it… If we show up with it, it could be bad, right?” she asked.

“I thought about that,” Dollar said. “We could just get rid of some of it… A little today… A little next week… Like that, until it’s all gone. I only know one person who could take it all… I was going to do that, and then I thought about it like you said, and realized it could be stupid… Same reasons… I only know that the guy deals big time… Not with who,” Dollar said.

“Could be money in one of those suitcases… Or duffel bags,” Janine said.

“I hope so… It makes sense, right? If they were doing a big drug deal that went bad and the drugs are there would not the money be there too,” Dollar said.

“Or,” Janine said. “If it went bad maybe they were trying to rip the guy off… Maybe they had no money.”

“Maybe,” Dollar agreed reluctantly. He sipped at the beer, got up and went back to the window. The guy was gone. He walked to the front door just in time to hear the door slam and the motor start on the car the guy was driving. He watched through the peephole until the car turned out of the driveway and headed down the road. He turned to Janine and shrugged.

“Try again?” he asked. She followed him back to the bedroom once more.

They decided on the blue duffel bag that Dollar had pulled from the floorboard of the Ford. The bag was a mess, something he had not noticed at the time, and Janine made him take it to the shower and clean off the outside of the dark blue nylon first.

Ten bricks of the duct tape wrapped stuff that Dollar assumed was cocaine, two more of the flat-black hand guns. Several spare clips and boxes of 9 mm ammunition, and two thick wads of bills, rubber banded. They appeared to be all one hundred dollar bills. Dollar handed them over to Janine to count, while he pulled out his pocket knife and dug into the side of one of the bricks: Brown instead of white.

“Heroin,” he said as he showed Janine.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Worth more than coke anyway,” Dollar said. He dug into the remaining bricks. Two more were heroin and the remaining bricks were cocaine He closed the holes with pieces of the duct tape they were wrapped with.

“Jesus,” Janine said. “There’s almost eighty thousand dollars here.”

Dollar looked at her and licked his lips. He added the other four bricks he had grabbed from the trunk of the car: Two were cocaine, the other two heroin, “Six and Eight,” Dollar told her. “There has to be close to a quarter mil. here… At least… I do not really even know what something this big sells for.”

Janine picked up the paper bag from the glove box. It felt like something was rolled up inside the bag. Solid… A brick shape, but smaller than the other bricks… More cash maybe, she thought. She unrolled the bag and shook it out: Two smaller bundles of cash, again all hundreds, and a wallet. She handed the wallet to Dollar as she counted the cash.

“Sharp,” Dollar said aloud. He pulled a thick wad of cash from the wallet and handed it to Janine.

“Sharp?” she asked.

“The dude,” Dollar explained. “License, credit cards… That cash. A key,” he said, holding up a brass key.

“Probably his house,” Janine said. “Where’s he live?”

“The Burg… Lake Avenue,” Dollar said, reading from his license.

Janine shrugged.

“Me either,” Dollar said. “Bet the key fits his door though. And it’s not like he’ll need it if he was the guy in the Ford.”

“Yeah,” Janine agreed, “Twenty thousand more. Sharp… That has to be a fake name,” she looked down at the money again. “Dollar, we got over a hundred thousand dollars here… We are rich.”

Dollar turned away and looked at the duffel bags and suitcases. “Eenie meenie miney moe,” Dollar said and picked up one of the black duffel bags from the Toyota.

Clean change of clothes, sneakers and a silenced chrome 45 caliber pistol: Another wallet, a razor and a deadly looking eight inch switchblade with a long, sharp two sided blade. Dollar picked up the wallet: Driver’s license, debit card, all in the name of Dan Gaynor; thirty five hundred in cash, all hundreds.

“I think these guys must have made a deal. Something went wrong after the deal. They all have some of these hundreds. Well so far.” He handed Janine the cash and snagged the other duffel bag. It was bulky, but not overly so, a little heavier than the other one had been.

Dollar pulled the zipper and recoiled from the smell that came from the bag. Janine leaned close to see what was in the bag and then recoiled herself.

“What the hell?” she asked.

Dollar opened the bag wider, but saw nothing except crumpled up newspapers. Tentatively he pushed aside the newspapers and a pair of dead, dusty eyes stared up at him through the newspapers. He flung the bag away from him, reacting simply on impulse. The bag hit the wall and the head, along with a pair of hands, rolled out onto the floor…

Come along on a crazy ride: Mob button men. Crime bosses, dirty cops. Top-level dope dealers and Dollar, a low-level loser just trying to stay alive… #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Mob #Readers #Thriller #BookLovers #BookWorms #Drama https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CW1HTMNP

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