Play Dead (Part 22)

I’m Fixing To Play Dead (Part 22 of Unpublished Novel)

When the tail lights of Red’s taxi disappeared into the night I turned toward the entrance of the trailer park and began walking.

The first trailer in the park, which I hadn’t noticed before, was a double-wide with a sign on it reading: “Manager—Inquire within to rent.”

I kept walking toward Leon’s Trailer, I remembered it being three rows back and my hopes were to find him there, probably inebriated, and to beat him senseless and get my $600,000 back. The notion of him not being there never crossed my mind, but when I got there the trailer was completely dark and his old truck was nowhere to be seen.

Standing there in front of his dark and silent trailer, I felt alone and helpless. I had my money belt, my pistol and my duffle bag, but my resolve was beginning to creep away from me as I yearned for things to just be normal again. I began to walk, slowly but surely, and by the time I got back to the double-wide where the manager resided I had my courage back up.

It took a while after my repeated knocks on the door, but finally it opened. I was standing on the middle doorstep when the light from inside flooded over me. It partially blinded me but I could make out the outline of a figure at the top of the steps. “I don’t receive callers in the middle of the night,” it said.

I shaded my eyes with my hand and said, “I’m real sorry to disturb you, sir, but I got dropped off here to visit my Uncle Leon Martin, three rows back, but he isn’t home. I just wondered if you might have seen him or know where I might find him?”

“I seen him alright. He stopped by here sometime in the early part of the afternoon and paid me three months back rent.”

“With my money,” I thought.

“You say you’re his nephew?”

“That’s right, and I’m pretty fond of Uncle Leon—sure would like to find him.”

“Well come on in, son. No need to stand out there in the chilly night. What’s you name?” he asked as he pushed the door completely open and stepped aside.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped inside. “My name’s Ralph Cooper and I sure do appreciate you letting me come in.” We were in a small office containing a little metal desk covered with rumpled newspapers, several dirty Styrofoam coffee cups and a telephone.

There were two weather-beaten straight chairs across from the desk.

As the manager motioned me to sit in one of the chairs he extended his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Elroy Jenkins, and I run this here trailer park. You look like you’re traveling,” he observed as he glanced down at the duffle bag in my hand.

Mr. Jenkins looked to be 70 or 80 years old, and missing several teeth I noticed, as he stood there in his seersucker bath robe. “Uh, yes, I am. In fact, I just had a taxi drop me off and I’m real sorry that Uncle Leon isn’t at home. I suppose I should have called, but I wanted to surprise him. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is or when he’ll be back, would you?”

As Mr. Jenkins sank into the other chair he said, “I think I might know both, but mind you, I ain’t a hundred percent certain.”

“Then do you think it would be possible for me to hang out here in your office until he returns?”

“I don’t think you are gonna want to do that, son.”

“How come?” I asked.

“Cause I don’t think he’ll be back for several days. Mind you, I said I ain’t real sure, but I do know Leon’s habits pretty well. He usually goes off gambling when he gets his social security check at the middle of the month. Now I know it’s the end of the month but he must have come into some cash, what with paying his back rent and all. So I figure Leon’s in Biloxi, sitting at a craps table right now because I seen his truck pull outta here ‘bout three o’clock this afternoon.”

I felt a surge of anger flooding over me. “Doggone Leon,” I thought, “gambling away my money.” I realized I had to think clearly so I pushed back my feeling and calmly lied, “Mr. Jenkins, I’m actually on my way to New Orleans, and will be passing through Biloxi. Do you have any idea where he might be staying?”

The old man scratched his head for a moment before he said, “I think he might be staying with a friend down there. He’s always talking about somebody down there named Bo, but for the life of me I can’t remember the last name.”

It looked like I was almost at a dead end, but then I remembered Leon’s girlfriend, Louise, lived in the trailer park, and I knew what I was fixing to do next.