Play Dead (Part 36)

I’m Fixin’ To Play Dead (Part 36):

Here I was in a broken down truck that wasn’t mine, with no ID on me and in possession of a pistol with no license to carry, sitting on the side of the street in a place that was strange to me and with the law probably looking for me already. If I had of had the presence of mind I could have more than likely hidden the weapon, but it was too late now because a flashlight beam was in my face.

I sat perfectly still while the local cop inspected the inside of the truck with his flashlight. Finally, he said, “What’s the problem here?”

“Uh, we just blew a hose,” I told him. “Somebody’s already gone for help. We’ll be all right.”

He shined his flashlight onto the back of our truck where Louise’s little pink bag was, and the old tweed suitcase with what was left of my $600,000 in it.

“Where y’ all headed?” he asked.

“Uh, we on our way up to Memphis.”

“Well, you just sit tight for a minute and I’ll be right back,” he said just before he retreated towards his cruiser behind me.

I sat there and prayed for a while, praying that Louise wouldn’t show up with a stolen car before he left or that he might just go away, but it was not to be.

He came back up to the truck window and said, “Hey bud, you got any identification on you?”

“No sir, I don’t.”

“Why the heck not?”

“Because I gave my wallet to my wife when she left to go get us some help.”

“You sent your wife? Why didn’t you go?”

“Cause I got a bum leg,” I lied as I mentally attempted to add up the number of them I had already told him.

The cop took a long breath before he said, “Well, we got us a real problem here. It seems that the license plate on this old Dodge says it’s a Ford 150. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to stand on that bum leg after all. Now step out of the vehicle.”

I was devastated. They had me. They were going to lock me up in a small-town jail, impound my money and probably classify it as drug money. Then they would use it to buy new cruisers for the entire force with enough left over to cover the cost of a Fourth of July fish-fry for all the employees and their families. I thought what a fool I had been.

I could have just chunked my career at VegX, moved to another city and started another company. Even as my hand wrapped around the inside door handle of the truck, I silently cursed my ex-wife and the Government Office of Circumlocution for my misfortune.

“Come on, boy. Step on out here,” the cop impatiently ordered.

Resigning myself to fate, I opened the truck door and placed one foot on the pavement.

That’s when the blue Camaro came roaring over the hill from the north, swerved across the road, sideswiped the cop’s car, did a u-turn in the middle of the road with its tires screaming, then retreated back the way it had come with black smoke billowing up from its rear wheels as they tore at the asphalt.

The cop stood there, stunned, with his eyes bulging and with his mouth agape.

After that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, even the cop. But when he finally recovered from his state of astonishment, he headed for his cruiser, got in and got on the radio as he raced away from the scene, in pursuit of the blue demon Camaro.

I stood there dumbfounded, thankful but dazed as I watched the cruiser disappear over the hill. But it didn’t take me long to come to my senses. I decided the thing to do was take the money and run. I had barely lifted the suitcase full of money when a set of headlights hit me full in the face. I heard a door slam and thought the cop was back. But then someone was calling my name, my nickname saying, “Sonny Boy, come on, we got to hurry!”

It was Louise! I snatched my duffle bag out of the cab of the truck and my money bag off the back of it while Louise grabbed her pink one. I followed her to the rear of the vehicle she had driven up in. The trunk was open. We tossed the bags in, closed it and got into the car.

The door closed with a muted thud and I sank into a wide, soft leather seat as I realized we were in a Lincoln Town Car. Louise really did know how to steal a car.

She made a u-turn and suddenly we were headed north again and all was well. A little further up the road I noticed the Super Wal-Mart parking lot over on the left. There were several cop cars, with blue light flashing, surrounding the blue Camaro.

“Looks like they caught that maniac who was driving that Camaro,” I observed out loud.

Louise giggled and said, “Un uh, naw they didn’t, and they ain’t fixin’ to neither.”