Merlot (22 page)

Merlot shook his head and waved Dickie
away.

“I’m sorry, what was that, I didn’t hear
you,” Cindy said.

“Oh nothing, just one of my associates. So
Cindy, if you don’t take a break, do you ever get to just step away
from the counter. I mean, you must have to use the bathroom once in
a while, don’t you?”

“Sort of depends, I guess.”

“You must grab a lunch even if it’s for a
couple of minutes. Just wondering is all. Don’t worry, I’m not
going to come over and see you or anything tomorrow, because I’ll
be really busy.”

“We take really short lunches in the
basement. It’s just the way it is during fair week. Course the flip
side of that is we get an extra vacation day to use later and a
nice bonus for the week, but believe me we earn both of them.”

“What time do you usually break for lunch?”
he asked.

“Maybe about 1:15, after the other girls, but
I still wouldn’t have time to see you, Tony. It’s just too crazy,
and some days, like yesterday, it was about 2:00, and then I just
had half a sandwich out of sight, stealing a bite from time to
time. I never really even took a lunch, so it wouldn’t be a good
idea to plan on something like that.”

“Hey, look, I should get back into this
meeting. How about I call you next week after Labor Day? Holiday
weekends are a crazy time in my business. Maybe we can spend
another quiet night together, when both our schedules return to
normal.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that, thanks, see
you,” she said, feeling much better.

Fuck! He thought, now what?

* * *

“What we’re going to do is a couple of dry
runs getting the hell out of here,” Mendel explained, talking over
his shoulder to Elvis in the backseat. They had the AKs loaded and
ready, one in the backseat on the floor and the other resting next
to Mendel.

Since Lucerne would be driving, he had a 38
special tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He had come to the
conclusion that it might be better to get Tracey after they took
down the bank instead of bringing her along. Neither Mendel nor
Elvis would be able to see the wisdom or recognize the true love
involved.

“See, it’s just two and a half blocks to the
freeway from here. That’s Highway 280. We take this back route,
avoid the stoplight, fair traffic and all. Everyone, including the
cops are gonna be stacked up out there, meanwhile we’ll shoot
through the neighborhood. Some bastard is bound to see us leaving
the scene tomorrow, but we’re out of sight in less than half a
block.”

“We get down here, the road Ts, they gotta
guess. Did we go north or south? Odds are we head north, link up
with half a dozen roads in just four miles. That’s why I take us
south, to I-94, cross the river, and get off on the Riverside
exit.” He neglected to mention this was in the general direction of
where Tracey worked.

He smiled, imagining the look on their faces
as a gorgeous brown-haired Tracey hopped into the car, gave him a
big kiss, then swung her gorgeous body around and introduced
herself to his two speechless brothers.

“We hit this between say 1:30 and 3:15 when
traffic is at a low point. It’s after any noontime headache and
before the night rush hour so that gives us plenty of time. We run
into any problems, and we’re off this dog at the first exit up
here,” he said, glancing over his right shoulder, flooring the
Fleetwood into the far right lane, exiting off on Riverside. We can
jump from here right back into St. Paul, downtown Minneapolis,
freeways south. There’s a million places we can end up, they’ll
never find us.”

* * *

“Maybe she’s not going to come, Otto. Maybe
she got hung up at the entrance gate or something.” said Josh.

“Yeah,” Otto said dejectedly looking at his
watch. It was after 11:00, she was hours late, and he was beginning
to get the feeling some emergency must have come up. God, he’d
never be able to trust her with simple things like laundry and
cleaning.

Cindy woke up on her couch to an infomercial
on how to make a million dollars in real estate with no money down.
It was after 2:00, she felt stiff and cramped. Knowing she was
getting up in less then four hours didn’t help matters. Her feet
were still throbbing after standing on them all day. She looked at
the half finished glass of wine she had poured herself hours ago
and decided to just dump it down the sink and go to bed.

Tomorrow was Friday. What could possibly go
wrong that hadn’t already?

She decided she would do the honorable thing
tomorrow and tell Porky Pig she was married with a house full of
kids, and that would be the end of the whole awful situation. Take
control and do what she should have done right from the start,
lie.

* * *

Merlot dreamed he was fleeing down a hallway
that was getting smaller and smaller with every step. There was a
door at the far end, but he wasn’t at all sure he could make
it.

* * *

Otto squirmed deeper into his recliner and
continued dreaming of Cindy wearing an apron with lace trim,
standing amidst baskets of clean laundry ironing his T-shirts. She
smiled sweetly and asked if there was anything else she could
do?”

* * *

Daphne stood in the soft glow of her open
refrigerator, licking the spoonful of butter brickle ice cream she
had just scooped from the container. Just one or two more she told
herself. She had the suntan contest tomorrow, and she thought that
if she could time things so that she got out of the sun right
before she began to burn it might just work. If that didn’t do the
trick, she had two spray bottles of
Evening Tan
she could
mist on in just a few minutes.

She absently scooped another spoonful of ice
cream, turning the spoon upside down so the creamy butter brickle
coated her tongue, melting down her throat. She thought of a
hundred different ways she would spend the prize money, beginning
with telling Osborne to screw himself.

* * *

Osborne whimpered again in his restless
sleep. Left to his own devices he had generously overmedicated
himself and in his current haze he thrashed around in a nightmare
involving the IRS and questions regarding his medical deductions.
Bolting awake, he groggily wondered how things could have possibly
deteriorated to their current state.

After being bitten, Milton had grown beyond
useless. Serpentina, that ingrate, had abandoned her nursing duties
and crossed over to the dark side. She had been slinking back and
forth across the front of the Beaver Hut protesting all the
kindness he had extended to her.

About the only bright sign on the horizon was
the expected failure of DiMento to comply with the terms of his
quarter-of-a-million-dollar loan. He snuggled down among the
pillows and groaned like a sick puppy

* * *

Billy Truesdale climbed back into bed after
making his 4:00 run to the bathroom.

“Everything okay?” his wife asked.

“Yeah, once I made it past the lion, it was
all down hill.”

“That’s nice,” she mumbled and drifted back
asleep.

He lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling.
Today was Friday and there was a three-day weekend ahead. If he had
one, he’d bet a hundred-dollar bill that worthless, limp-wristed,
halfwit Trevor would phone in sick. He and Gary would have to haul
deposits by themselves.

* * *

Lucerne stood in front of the motel bathroom
mirror and practiced his lines. “Hop in Sugar!” or maybe, “Boys,
like you to meet my main squeeze!” He had been awake for hours,
since just after midnight, and he was practicing for when he picked
up Tracey.

He thought once things settled down maybe
they’d all go out somewhere that night for steaks. Show Tracey a
good time right from the start. No doubt she would be wearing
something sexy. Tight jeans, maybe a skimpy white top with a black
bra. Either way, they’d have a good time. Damn Mendel and Elvis
didn’t like it, they could just come back here and play with
themselves for all he cared.

* * *

Cindy rolled out of bed at 5:40. She tried to
lie in bed for an extra ten minutes, but self-imposed guilt got to
her. It was Friday and that meant she almost had another Hell week
under her belt. Good riddance to the whole affair.

She let the hot water run over her shoulders
and down her back. She thought again about her brief conversation
with Tony hoping he’d be true to his word and they would get
together after the weekend. She continued to think of him as she
drove into work, thought of him while she counted the night
deposits with Carol, until she came to that one deposit in
particular.

She actually smelled it before she saw it.
Reeking of rancid bacon, the grease-stained nylon bag was crammed
so full she didn’t think it would be possible to get any more
inside.

“Ugh, gross,” she groaned, laying the greasy
deposit slip on the counter.

“Oh, phew, that’s the one from your bacon
buddy.” Carol sniffed the air. She had her own headache in front of
her counting out sticky currency from a cotton candy vendor.

“God, look, it just sticks to you, I can’t
even count it,” she said attempting to shake a bill loose from her
fingers.

“Oh, this smells so bad, it just stinks. Did
you see the day he ran his nose down my window? There was a smear
down the glass,” Cindy groaned.

“Yeah, I saw it. What’s with the outfits he
wears? He must have a thing for you because he always gets in your
line. Then he has that little salute thingy. You better watch it.
He’s going to be following you home some night,” Carol joked.

“Not even funny,” Cindy said, shivering at
the thought of Otto, clown makeup all over his face, the
handkerchief pinned to the back of a sweat stained baseball cap,
standing at her front door.

* * *

Otto pulled the recliner lever forward and
launched himself out of the chair. He tossed his bathrobe back onto
the chair. Then watched the weather channel to see what it would be
like today, not that he needed to really check. More cloudless
skies, heat and draining humidity. He showered, shaved, applied his
zinc oxide, and grabbed the cleanest dirty jersey he could find on
the floor.

There were stains left under the armpits from
the last time he wore it, but there just wasn’t a lot he could do
about that this morning. He was in a foul mood, remembering how
Cindy screwed up last night. He would have a talk with her, let her
know he didn’t appreciate being taken for granted. After the free
pass and the half-off coupon, he expected a little more in the way
of gratitude.

He shook his head, looked around at all the
dirty clothes. At least the Vikings jersey smelled more of rancid
bacon grease and less of Otto. That was a plus.

* * *

Merlot was still sucking some of the beer
taste off his teeth as he walked into the coffee shop. Chrissie was
stretching behind the counter.

“Merlot, what could you possibly be spending
your time thinking about? You go through the same routine of
looking vacantly at everything. You always get the same thing every
day, anyway. Here,” she said placing a French doughnut into a bag,
“or do you want two? And of course I know, your latte,” she
said.

“What can I get you?” She asked the next
customer, a guy in a suit and tie. Then half jumped as some of the
hot frothy milk splashed on her hand.

“Here, Merlot,” she said, not waiting for the
other man’s response before smashing her chest up against the glass
door on the pastry counter, reaching across and handing Merlot his
doughnut and latte.

He handed her a five and walked off, calling
back to keep the change.

Chrissie put the five in the cash drawer,
took a dime out and slipped it into her pocket.

“Big tipper, now what would you like?” she
said, giving a little wink

* * *

“Where the hell is Patti?” Merlot asked with
a mouth crammed full of French doughnut, noticing she wasn’t behind
the bar.

“Just called, running a few minutes late but
she’s on her way,” Tommy replied.

He locked the office door behind him, put his
phone on do not disturb, and pulled his disguise, the revolver, and
the trash bags out from beneath the cushions on the hide-a-bed.

His mind was in that region where he knew if
he thought about any of this at all it would register as a very,
very bad idea, so he went mindlessly through the motions of laying
everything out, checking and rechecking his watch every fifteen
seconds. He ran down a quick mental inventory before dumping
everything into an empty liquor box and carrying it out to the Saab
in the far corner of the parking lot.

His plan, such as it was, counted on
substantial cash deposits being made through the noon hour. If he
could time it so he would hit the bank when it was overwhelmed with
the deposits and traffic from the noon rush had subsided, he just
might have a chance. Failing that, his backup plan was to dump the
Saab, wear a second set of clothes underneath his disguise so he
could run away undetected, get back to his office, and then drown
himself in the toilet before Osborne arrived with his goon to
collect the debt.

* * *

Daphne stuffed her two mist bottles of tan
spray into a large straw beach bag with fuzzy, bright red flowers
stitched on both sides. She pulled a wide-brimmed hat tightly onto
her head so her face would be protected out on the picket line.

Standing at the kitchen counter she pushed
aside the empty pizza box and gleefully rubbed her hands together
before peeling the lid off a cinnamon coffee cake. She washed down
a generous wedge of the coffee cake with a tall glass of Slim Fast,
cut two more wedges to eat on the bus and trundled out the door.
She had the feeling today would be a new beginning, starting with
the suntan contest.