Play Dead (Part 30)
I’m Fixing To Play Dead (Part 30):
As Leon lay dying on the hotel room floor from the murderous attack of whoever had robbed him of the 600,000 dollars he had originally robbed me of, or what was left of it after his night of gambling, after I had assured him I was going after the killer he whispered, “I had a feeling you might feel like that, Sonny Boy. Does that mean you forgive me for stealing from you?”
“Yeah, sure,” I assured him, “I forgive you, Leon. The money doesn’t seem to matter as much anymore as catching up with who had done this to you. Do you think they’ll head back toward Louise’s trailer in Birmingham?”
“Naw, she won’t make it that far,” Leon feebly responded.
“How come? What do you mean?”
His voice was becoming weaker when he answered, “Whoever did me in will do her in too, and dump her body beside the road somewhere.”
“What makes you think that,Leon?” I asked.
“Cause I know how a killer’s mind works. Remember, I lived with’em for 25 years in prison. What you need to do is get out to the front of the hotel real quick and see how, and who she left with. She was wearing jeans and a red sweater. Take my old truck, it’s parked on level three. The keys are on the desk. But be sure and trade license plates with another vehicle. When they find me they’ll be looking for the truck registered in my name.”
I had seen the look of death before. I remembered seeing it on the face of my Aunt Fannie when I was very young, but even more vividly, I remembered seeing it on the face of my Uncle Virgil. Now, once again, I was observing that cold, dazed look spreading across Leon’s countenance.
He looked up at me and raised his bloody right hand. I took it in mine and listened to his last weak words, “If I had of had a son, Sonny Boy, I would of wanted him to be like you.”
“God bless you, Leon,” I managed to say.
“I hope He will,” Leon said. Then his hand went limp in mine and he exhaled a long, last, deep breath.
I knew I needed to get moving, but I just knelt there for a few moments feeling the sadness in my heart and warm tears in my eyes. “Life hadn’t been too good to Leon,” I thought as I placed his big, bloody hand across his chest. Then, looking at my own bloody hand, I moved into action.
I found a clean bath cloth in the bathroom. After wiping the blood off my hand with it I placed it into a plastic shower cap and stuffed it into my back pocket while remembering Leon’s advice that I would need to plant some evidence on the real killer to prove it wasn’t myself.
After washing my hands thoroughly I snatched up the keys to Leon’s truck and made my way to the door. Cautiously, I cracked it, poked my head out and checked the hallway in both directions. Nobody was in sight so I slipped out of the room without looking back.
There were people waiting for the elevator when I got off in the lobby. Striding past them, I was oblivious to everything and everybody as I made my way to the motor lobby. When I reached it I passed through the open, heavy glass doors and immediately accosted the first uniformed attendant I saw. “Hey, pal, I’m looking for a lady who left here with a gentleman in the past 20 minutes or so!”
The attendant was young and pudgy, but polite as he responded with flashing white teeth and a smile, “Lots of folks have left here since then, sir.”
I fished a $20 bill out of my pocket, palmed it to him and said, “This is very important and I need for you to think real hard. She’s about 55 years old and looks pretty good. And she would have been wearing jeans and a red sweater. You remember anybody like that?”
“Oh, yes sir, I remember her very well. She looked like she had been crying and with a scared look on her face. I offered to help them with their bags—-”
“Them!” I interrupted. “Are you telling me she had someone with her?”
“Yes sir, a gentleman with bright red hair and a kind of wild look on his face. I could tell they just wanted to get out of here.
Sometimes folks come out of the hotel kind of depressed after they lose a lot of money.”
I was stunned to think that Red was most likely the killer. I had to be sure so I dashed across the parking lot to the spot where he had parked his taxi last night. When I arrived I found the spot empty.
Without any hesitation I raced up to level three of the parking lot and began searching for Leon’s old pickup. It was easy to spot among the shiny BMW’s and Mercedes. I yanked the door open, inserted the ignition key and thankfully the engine fired right up. I knew I had to move real fast in order to have any chance of fixing to catch up with them.