Southern Justice, Part 35
I’m Fixin’ To present part 35 of Southern Justice:
Ray McKinley, B. Wendell Hormel’s stooge and security agent was at home in his one-bedroom apartment Sunday night watching a re-run of Monday Night Raw in TV. Dressed in boxer shorts, socks and a weathered once white T-shirt, he was sipping on his fourth Pabst Blue Ribbon while he munched on a thick sliced bologna and mayonnaise sandwich on two slices of white bread.
The TV program concluded with his hero being gouged in both eyes, beaten with a steel chair and left lying motionless on the mat. Ray picked up his remote and began searching for any kind of cop show. As he did he remembered that tomorrow was Monday. Then he breathed a sigh of relief, remembering that he didn’t have to go into the office early because B. W. had given him two transcripts with instructions to deliver them Monday morning before coming to work.
He also remembered he had placed the documents in his briefcase. But where was his briefcase? Then it hit him—he had left the damn thing beside his chair in the conference room Friday afternoon!
Nothing to do except go to the office early Monday morning after all. But, no, the traffic would be horrendous. The thing to do would be to go pick them up tonight.
When he had finished dressing and was walking out the door he checked his watch. It was almost eight o’clock. He figured he could make the round trip in about 30 minutes and be back home in time to watch NCIS.
So when Ray turned on the lights in the front of the law office, Chris Adams immediately realized there was no hedgerow to escape through. He was really trapped and he felt the panic rushing through him like a shot of electric current, but he managed to force himself to think. He recognized Ray McKinley as he closed the front door behind him.
Standing in the conference room doorway Chris knew that Ray couldn’t see him; however, he also knew it could be only a matter of seconds before he would come walking down the hallway. Chris thought of retreating to the conference room, but remembered there was absolutely no place to hide there, and he didn’t figure he had a chance of making it to the doorway of the law library without being detected. Then he remembered hearing the sound of a toilet flushing when he had been in the law library with Patty. There was a bathroom two steps to his right. He had just eased the door closed when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
He was thinking maybe he was safe now, that is unless Ray needed to relieve himself. If that happened he would have no choice except to knock him out. But with what? He had no weapon. Then his eyes lit upon the lid of the commode tank. Very gently he lifted it, gripped it tight and held it above his head. It was old and heavy and he knew he could knock a horse out with it. But by the time he had tensed up to deliver a blow, he heard footsteps going back down the hallway, and then the sliver of light at the bottom of the door went out. Slowly he lowered his weapon and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Once he was back out in the hall way, breathing normally again, he decided to take a peek out the front window to make sure Ray had departed. What he saw were vehicle headlights, two sets of them!
He wanted out of there, but his curiosity caused him to take a closer look. With the aid of the streetlight, he saw Ray behind the wheel of his car. He was leaning out of his window talking to someone in a small pickup truck. It was the damn rent-a-cops, they were back!
As Chris observed, in the middle of their conversation, Ray turned his head and looked directly back toward the front door. Suddenly there was complete silence. Both engines had been cut off! It was time to move!
Chris had opened the back window of the law library and had one leg through it when he heard the sound of their vehicle doors closing. He felt the panic attack coming back, but was able to control it by telling himself he had time to make it. When he felt his feet touch the ground, he visualized the three men halfway between their vehicles and the corner of the building. He had to force himself to take time to close the window, because he knew he had to.
Just as he turned to flee, he saw the familiar beam of the flashlights and could hear the crunch of their feet on the gravel. Overpowering Ray in the darkness would be no problem, but now there were three of them and the rent-a-cops might have clubs, or even guns.
He figured he had about five seconds to reach the tunnel in the hedgerow. He made it in four and his feet had just disappeared through it when the flashlight beams hit it. As he raced away, he heard the sound of their voices fading away.
(tmdunagan@aol.com)