typea_all (24 page)

     I took three more patients before I called in Reynolds.

     "Just stay way over there while we talk. I don't want you any closer than that."

     "I want to ask you one more time to..." He looked around. "...do that favor for me."

     "And I'll tell you one more time, no. What's this all about anyway?"

     "It's personal."

     "Well, so is doing something unethical and illegal. Ever hear the words insurance fraud?"

     "How did you know about the insurance?"

     "Easy, I'm an MT ASCP. I have connections."

     He looked puzzled. "I'm not a well man. The doctors tell me that I don't have long to live and I need to get an insurance policy."

     "Don’t you have insurance already? I thought you were a pretty rich guy."

     "Not as rich as everybody thinks. For a long time I had a...gambling problem. I lost a lot of money and owe a lot to some very nasty people."

     "You mean Big Jimmy?"

     "How did you know about him?"

     "Remember, MT ASCP."

     "Yeah, Big Jimmy. If I don’t pay him back soon, I may be forced to turn over my business to him."

     "And that would be bad because your wife wouldn't get it."

     "I don't care about her. She's been getting plenty of business from her personal trainer, and probably half the other men that come to the house. She's like an ally cat."

     "Then what's the problem?"

     "You never had a business, built one up from the ground. You wouldn't understand."

     "Try me."

     "That business is my life; it's like a child to me. Letting Jimmy and his pals take over would be like throwing away my own flesh and blood."

     "So how would the insurance policy help?"

     "I'd make Big Jimmy the beneficiary, and when I die it would pay off the debt."

     "How do you know that you'll die before you have to turn over the business?"

     "Like I said, the doctors don't give me much longer, and if need be, I would help things along a little."

     "You mean, like kill yourself?"

     "Just help things along, that's all."

     "Here's what I don't understand. Why doesn't Jimmy want you to get the insurance?"

     "How did you..."

     "MT ASCP," I interrupted.

     "He really doesn't want or need the money. He wants the business."

     "Why is that so important to him?"

     "I've really told you too much as it is. Will you do it or not?"

     I had no intention of doing it, but I wanted to get rid of him. "Let me think about it, a little."

     "Okay, if that's the best you can do now."

     "Best I can do."

     After he left, I ran out to the parking lot and found Wing and Beebe.

     "Did you get all that?" I asked breathlessly.

     "All what?"

     "That conversation with Reynolds. Aren't you guys bugging the lab or something? Isn't that what you guys do?"

     "Who's Reynolds?"

     "Who's Reynolds? You got to be kidding. He's the guy that started all this, the guy that put Big Jimmy onto me. Isn't that why you're here?" Was I on some other planet or were these guys just dropping by from outer space. "You really got to be kidding. I thought you wanted Big Jimmy, I thought you wanted Reynolds." I started ranting. "Wing, didn't you see him?"

     Wing just shook is head.

     "Jesus, since Hoover left, the FBI has gone straight to hell. Hoover would have been dressed as a nurse and working right in the lab next to me."

     "We have our orders. We're here to follow you and protect you."

     "Protect me? Jesus H. Christ. I got better protection from panty liners with wings."  I mumbled a few more things about Hoover, questioned their sanity, and went back to the lab.

     I was exhausted and confused, with no more faith in the FBI than I had in used car dealers. Tomorrow, after a good's night rest, I'd figure out what to do. But while I had the FBI around, even if they were incompetent, I figured I might as well use them for protection and go to Discount Harry's.

******

     Ever wonder where the leftover junk from sales goes? Or the dresses that were torn apart by frenzied shoppers? Or the open jars and cans, the rejects and discards? They go to Discount Harry's.

     Tucked away on an unlit portion of Tilton Road, between two trailer parks, Discount Harry's was a Quonset hut that started life as a storage building for the FAA, the Federal Aviation Administration. Years ago, the FAA abandoned the building because it had gotten too expensive to repair, and it sat empty for about five years until Haridas Abassi moved into town. Haridas means servant of Krishna in Indian, but the name was too difficult for many to pronounce, so Haridas Abassi became Harry Abbot, and Discount Harry's grew like poison ivy, rising like a phoenix out of FAA droppings.

     I suppose when the place first opened, everything may have been neat and orderly, with hangers of clothes arranged on racks, and boxes stacked for easy inspection. That probably lasted one hour until Harry's became what it is today, a swamp of merchandise so cluttered that it takes hours to find anything worthwhile.

     Why on earth would anyone shop there? In addition to the pure thrill of the hunt, there were actually some real bargains at Harry's.

     Granted, the designer clothes and shoes were a few years old and the size tags were usually incorrect.

     Granted, most of the housewares had chips, dents, or scratches; and the packages of food were all in some unknown language.

     Granted, most shoppers were so hillbilly that marrying outside the family meant a cousin rather than a sibling.

     Granted, the parking lot was probably the most dangerous place in Southern Jersey, second only to inside the actual store.

     I never went to Discount Harry's alone but always with friends, and never at night. But now I had the FBI to protect me, damn if I wasn't going to take advantage of it.

     I stopped by their car on the way out of work.

     "You guys going to stay with me this evening?"

     "Yes, those are our orders."

     "I'm not complaining, I just want to make sure. You will be with me, all evening?"

     "That's correct."

     "Okay. I'm making a stop at Applebee's and then to Discount Harry's up on Tilton. No problem?"

     "None at all, we'll be right behind you."

     This was going to be great. Just let some Neanderthal try something at Harry's and I'll have the feds all over him.

     I drove out to the Applebee's across from the mall and had my Oriental chicken salad. Before leaving Applebee's I stopped and checked one more time, just to be sure.

     "Just checking, you guys going to stay with me?"

     "Yes."

     "All the way to Discount Harry's and then all the way home?"

     "Yes."

     "Would you mind coming into Harry's with me?"

     "Do you expect trouble inside?"

     "You never know what happens at Harry's."

     Wing and Beebe looked at each other. "I'll come in with you," Wing said.

     "Great. This is going to be great."

     We drove back down 42, turned onto Tilton, and then drove up Tilton to Harry's. The place looked unusually cheerless that night, with a full parking lot of pickups and cars spray painted in primer. A few little kids were playing in the dirt outside the store, probably abandoned there by parents shopping inside. Where some stores have little play areas for kids, with toys and gyms and books, Harry's had a dirt pile next to the store with pieces of lumber, rocks, cans, and broken bottles. Truly a child's paradise.

     Wing and Beebe parked right next to me. I rolled down my window and yelled, "So you're sure you're going to wait? Wing is actually coming in with me?"

     As an answer, Wing got out of the car and moved aside his jacket so I could see his gun. What a surprise, these guys have some personality after all. "I'll cover your back," he said.

      Wing held the door open for me to walk in, and right away we caught everyone's attentions. First of all, Wing was wearing a suit, white shirt, and dark tie. Harry's hasn't seen anyone in a suit since Harry's mother passed away and they had the reception in the back storage room. Even then, it was only the undertaker who wore a suit. Second, Wing made the mistake of holding the door for me. The men in the room stared angrily, hoping that we didn't give the women folk any wrong ideas.

     To make us fit in, though, I went straight to a rack of stretch pants, picked up one half my size and with stirrups, and said loud enough for most of them to hear, "Gee, this will be perfect for the wedding, it'll hide the baby. Now all I need is the veil." That calmed everyone down and they went back to their shopping.

     I shopped around for about an hour, mostly for socks, some casual outfits, towels, and a few little trinkets for the house. It takes that long because very few things match at Harry's. You find one sock with a design you like and it may take thirty minutes to locate the other one. The same with clothes – find a top that you like but the matching shorts may be over in toys or greeting cards.

     Wing, I noticed, was making himself at home, rummaging through the hardware and tools. He really looked out of place with the suit and I kind of felt sorry for him, but he didn't seem to care. I guess they teach you that in FBI school.

     I had one small altercation with a lady, but I was able to handle it myself; Wing didn't have to shoot her in the knee. We both got our hands on this beautiful towel at the same time and we had a tug of war. She was stronger than she looked, but dumber too, which is what finally saved me.

     The more she pulled, the more I dug in. I braced my feet against a cabinet and leaned back for leverage. She stood straight up and pulled with her arms. I guess education, and that one remedial physics course I had, paid off after all. At one point I must have been on a 75-degree angle. I was losing all the blood from my head, but the towel was worth it. If she had half a brain, she would have let go of the damn thing and waited until I fell and got knocked out. Then she could have had the towel and given me a kick or two for good luck.

     When she started to get tired, her grip released just a little and I readjusted my angle so I wouldn’t fall. Then I said, "Dang, I forgot to wash my hands after doing those HIV tests this morning," and I pretended that I didn't want it after all. She let go of her end and walked away, just like that. If the towel weren't so beautiful I'd have it stuffed and mounted for the wall as a trophy instead of using it in the bathroom.

     Finally I found everything I wanted, and everything that needed it had a matching part, and I waited in line. Harry's has this philosophy that the number and intelligence of the cashiers must be in an indirect relationship to the number of people waiting. When the place is empty, they have four or five cashiers, all with master's degree from Wharton. When the place is crowded, they have one cashier who needs a map to find her nose.