As it worked out John was only about half an hour late getting into the Suncoast office, but that was enough to earn him an icy glare from Annamaria as he walked in the door. “Holy crap, what a morning!” he said, as much to head her off as anything else. “Can you think of a good ambulance-chasing shyster?”

“‘Good’ and ‘ambulance-chasing shyster’ don’t exactly go together,” she replied dryly. “You’re about as well off to look at the back cover of the phone book. What happened?”

“Friend of mine got her car totaled by a load that shifted off a truck,” he said. “No insurance that matters, of course, but her kid is in Cocalatchee General with a couple broken legs. It’d be nice to get her some compensation.”

“How bad is the kid?”

“Scratches, bruises, minor lacerations along with the legs,” he told her. “I’m guessing she’s going to be released in the next couple days. It looks like they’re going to both be staying with me for a while, so things could get a little crazy.”

“Is this because you’re, uh, interested in this friend?” she smiled. Annamaria knew her employer pretty well, of course.

“In this case, no,” John replied honestly. “Some good reasons for that, too. The truth is that she’s an old high school classmate, and there’s a gal back in Bradford who would kill me if I didn’t help her out.” He went on to give her a two- or three-sentence thumbnail description of the problem, ending with, “So things could get a little crazy around me for a few days.”

“It won’t be the first time,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Anyway, that’s not the problem right now,” he changed the subject. “When I got back last night, my computer had crapped out. I mean, it doesn’t do anything, doesn’t even turn on, much less try to boot up.”

“I saw you’d been messing with my computer,” she shook her head. “John, I hate to say this, but did you check to see if it was plugged in?”

“It looked like it was, I didn’t jiggle the plug or anything. I’ve got hours’ worth of work I need to do on the computer, and I can’t do a thing without it. Can you get on the phone and see if you can get a computer tech over here or something, like right away? I’ve got that Tomtucknee Regional bid I’ve got to work on, and a half dozen other things.”

“Sure, I ought to be able to get someone,” she replied, reaching for the phone book. “What are you going to do till you get the computer back?”

“I think I’ll make a quick trip home,” he said. “I’ve got the back of the van filled with a hospital bed and a wheelchair, and they’ll just be in the way if we need to use the van for something else.”

“You might as well,” she told him. “I’d rather have you doing something elsewhere than sitting around here fuming because the computer guy hasn’t shown up yet. Anything else?”

“Yeah, when I was messing around on your computer last night I couldn’t find that e-mail Tom was supposed to have sent telling us what kind of deal he had to cut to get that business up in Savannah. I mean, he could have given away my first-born son for all I know.”

“He hadn’t sent anything when I left last night, and there was nothing this morning. How about if I give him a call after I get a computer guy heading this way?”

“Sounds good,” he replied. “I’ll be back in a while.”

“Take your time,” she shook her head. “Doing something will be better for you than doing nothing and sitting around here like a bear in a cage. At least if you’re out of here I can get some work done.”

In a few minutes John was back in the van, heading toward home, still pretty wrought up; despite a couple minor successes, he still was not very happy about the way the day had started. Unless a computer guy showed up at the office pretty soon, he probably wasn’t going to get shit done today, either.

He was getting close to home before the thought came to him that it had taken both him and Toby to load the hospital bed into the van, and it had been a bit of a struggle. Getting it out by himself was going to be even worse, and it was going to be a real pain in the butt to get it into the spare bedroom. It was still pretty much in one piece, and he could tear it down some to move it, but that was going to take time and a little wrench work. Oh, well, it would keep him away from the office for a while.

He pulled into the driveway and reached for the garage door opener, to find it wasn’t in its normal place on the visor. “Shit,” he said, realizing it still had to be in the Toyota. That meant he had to go into the house – at least he still had his key ring – and open it from the inside, then back the van partway into the garage.

The wheelchair was no problem; in fact, he left it in the garage since it would be needed to get Teresa into the house. With some difficulty and a little bad language he managed to wrestle the bed out onto the garage floor. Moving the mattress into the spare bedroom was no big trick, other than the fact it was floppy and wanted to fall over rather than stand on end. He went back out to the garage and stared at the bed for a while; it was a sure thing it wasn’t going to roll though the door into the house on its casters. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make the turn into the kitchen with it anyway.

He had pretty well made up his mind to just let it sit till he brought Sally home; the two of them might be able to wrestle it, even if they had to go through the front door with it. But then, he happened to hear a lawnmower going next door, and looked up to see his neighbor Max Perry out doing his mowing. Max was no spring chicken; he was in his seventies at least and could be older, but was in pretty good shape. He’d probably be able to help steer and balance things, so at least the damn chore would be done.

It was no great trick to flag Max down. “So what are you up to today?” Max asked when he had the lawnmower shut off. “Strange to see you here during the day.”

“Long story,” John told him. “I have a friend and her daughter who are going to be staying here for a while. The kid is going to be in leg casts for a couple months, and I’ve got a hospital bed I need to move inside. I could sure use a hand.”

“Sure, no problem,” Max smiled. “Hey, it’s good to know you’re going to have someone staying here. I’d have been a little suspicious if I hadn’t known. Some friend of yours?”

“Old high school classmate,” John explained, not wanting to get into the details. “But it’s good to know I can trust you to keep an eye on the place.”

It still wasn’t a simple job to get the bed inside; after a little discussion he and Max decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to wrestle it through the turn from the garage into the kitchen, and that the wider front door was by far the better bet. After that, it wasn’t any real great trick, although they still had to roll the bed up on its side to get it through a couple doors. Max even helped move the bed already in the bedroom to the side to make room for the hospital bed. The room was getting a little crowded with all the boxes of Sally and Teresa’s stuff scattered around, but that was something Sally could deal with when she had Teresa here.

It probably took longer to just stand around and shoot the shit with Max for a while out of sheer neighborliness than it took to move the bed, not that John really wanted to go back to the office anyway. Max was a gun collector and was enthusiastic about it; he’d recently managed to find some sort of an oddball Czech full-auto machine pistol he seemed to be excited about. “Looking forward to getting out to the range and running a few clips through it,” he said.

John really couldn’t have cared less. He knew what a gun was, and he’d fired a few and done a little hunting back when he’d been a kid in Bradford, but it wasn’t an interest that stuck with him. He listened to Max for a while, trying to make intelligent-sounding replies, until finally he managed to beg his way off, told Max that he’d keep him updated, and got back into the van to head back and see what new hassle had landed on his desk.

Annamaria was busy at her computer when he walked in the door. “So did you track down a computer guy?” he said without preamble.

“Well, yes and no,” she replied. “Nobody I talked to can make it here before the first of the week. Everybody seems to be pretty busy.”

“Oh, shit,” he said. “Wouldn’t you just know it? What happened to service?”

“Well, they’re busy,” she told him. “There’s some sort of virus or something going around, and everyone is backlogged. I had a couple places say we could bring it in today, but it would still be Monday or Tuesday before they could get to it, even with an extra incentive.”

John knew she meant “bribe” when she said “extra incentive.” It seemed like greasing the skids was becoming more and more of a necessity in getting anything done, especially if it was important. “So I can’t get a damn thing done till the first of the week, right?”

“Well, I did have one other idea,” she said. “I have a nephew who’s pretty good with computers. I mean, he builds them and that kind of thing, and he’ll help out on something like this. He’s done it often enough. He likes to take computers that people have given up on, get them working again and give them to his friends.”

“Get him over here,” John replied, grasping at the proffered straw.

“Can’t right now,” Annamaria smiled. “He’d still be in school. He’s fifteen, John, but if it’s something simple he might be able to track it down quickly.”

“Worth a try, I guess,” John shook his head. “After school beats the hell out of first of the week. I’ve heard it said that if you need help with a computer, call a kid. Guess it holds true.”

“It does in his case,” she smiled, “but I know kids his age who don’t have the mechanical talent to flush a toilet.”

“Annamaria, you’re getting almost as cynical as I am,” he smiled. “Maybe that’s not good.”

“It comes from being around you all the time,” she laughed, then got serious. “I did manage to get hold of Tom. It all turned out to be nothing, they wanted some concessions on the service agreement, and when he couldn’t get hold of you he was able to use it as a negotiating point. They wound up signing the standard contract, so it all worked out. He made the sale, a pretty good one, and is on his way to Charleston.”

“Good, at least something has gone right the last couple days. Anything else I should know?”

“Not really,” she said. “Warren showed up this morning, he’s going to be in the office for a while, working the phones and doing some paperwork. He’s planning on getting on the road again the first of the week.”

“Did he get some sales?” Warren was one of his top salesmen, with a territory of Alabama and Mississippi. Although he officially lived in Bradenton, he didn’t get home much and preferred to spend his time on the road – a wife he couldn’t stand had much to do with it, along with a desire to not get a divorce until after his kids were all over eighteen. To have him in town four days straight was something of a landmark.

“Oh, yeah, he brought in a whole pack of stuff.”

“Better and better,” John said in relief as the phone rang, and Annamaria went to answer it. “Yes, he’s back now,” he heard her say. “I’ll put you through to him.”

She put the phone on hold. “This guy has called for you several times this morning,” she said. “He sounds pretty hot but he wouldn’t talk to me about what he wanted.”

“Well, shit,” John sighed. “I’ll go take it in my office.”

John settled down in his chair, glanced at the useless computer, wondered what this call was about, and realized there was no other way to find out. He picked up the phone and said formally, “John Engler. How can I help you?”

“Where the fuck do you think you get off stealing our stuff?” an angry voice on the other end of the line exploded.

“Stealing your stuff?” John replied, severely confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t,” the guy said. “You had no fucking right to take the contents of the car we picked up this morning. The release you signed on that said that we had a right to all contents of the car.”

“Jesus, what a load of horseshit!” John replied angrily, realizing that this had to be one of those slimeballs from the towing service. “When I was over there yesterday I told you specifically we wanted to get the woman’s stuff out of the car.”

“Yeah, but you signed a contract that said we get all the contents,” the guy said. “That means it’s our stuff, and we fucking want it back.”

“You can go piddle straight up a hemp rope,” John told him, all the mad he’d repressed since leaving the impound yard washing right up to the surface. “You’re nothing but a fucking crook, stealing stuff from people who don’t have jack shit anyway. There’s no way in hell you’re getting your hands on that stuff, not that it’s worth much of anything, anyway.”

“I can get a court order,” the guy said.

“Fuck you, I can get an attorney, too,” John told him, “and if I have to, you’re going to have to borrow pants to walk to the nearest homeless shelter, where I hope someone steals them from you like you try to steal from someone else who’s helpless.”

“Hey, look, there’s no reason to get pissy about this,” the guy replied, seeing that he wasn’t going to buffalo John. “All you have to do is turn over the stuff, and this can all go away.”

“Like I said, fuck you,” John said. “First off, it’s not my stuff to give you. Second off, I’m not telling you where it is. Third off, if you figure out where it is, you’re going to have to explain it to two eighty-pound German Shepherds with sharp teeth and a bad attitude. Fourth off, I’m an EMT. I’ll make a point of telling my buddies that if they get a call to where the stuff is, to stop off and get a cup of coffee and a piece of pie on the way. And finally, you make one move on it and you’re going to be facing my attorney anyway. Now fuck off!”

John slammed down the phone, still muttering obscenities. The nerve of some people! My God, that was one hell of a racket they had going there, preying on people in trouble who didn’t have the reserves to deal with it. Well, they weren’t going to get away with it this time . . .

“Sounds like one of those deals,” Annamaria said from the doorway, looking mildly amused.

“Fucking crooked lying sons of bitches,” John fumed. “Of all the fucking gall . . . ”

“John, what happened?”

So John told her the whole story, and how lucky they’d been to get the stuff out of Sally’s car at all. “It really isn’t worth the powder to blow it away,” he summarized, “but it’s all she has and I will be goddamned if I’ll let someone take it away from her. I mean, some of the fucking crooks around this town will steal anything they can get their fucking hands on whether it’s worth anything or not.”

“It’s not just here,” Annamaria said. “It happened to a cousin of mine down in Miami, too.”

“Did they get their stuff back?”

“No, and my cousin wasn’t real happy about it. The office of the company that pulled that shit on them went up in smoke.”

“I hope you still have your cousin’s phone number,” John snorted. “I may have a job for him.”

“Well, yes and no,” she chuckled. “He’s doing two to six in Raiford. But I have other relatives. What was this business about the German Shepherds? I know you don’t have dogs.”

“No, but I do have a good alarm system, and what’s more, I have a neighbor who’s a gun collector who just bought himself some kind of antique machine pistol he’s aching to try out,” John replied. “What’s more, he keeps a good eye on the place. Even if that asshole from the towing company has a paper that say he has a legal right to the stuff, he’s still going to have to pull a major B&E to get in. That might give your cousin a cellmate for a while.”

It may have been just as well that John’s computer wasn’t working right at that moment, because he was far too worked up to use it. Only when he’d cooled off a little did he think to call Max to tell him to keep an eye open for strange vehicles casing the place, especially if they were tow trucks. Of course, he had to explain what had happened to Max, who promised to keep a good lookout. To John, he almost sounded eager. Finally, he hung up the phone, thinking that some people had too much time on their hands.

For the next hour or so John wouldn’t have been able to do much if he’d wanted to. He piddled with some of the paperwork on his desk, but he’d already given it a pretty good looking over the night before so there wasn’t much left he could do. He wandered down the hall to the salesmen’s shared office and shot the bull with Warren for a few minutes. Warren had made a pretty good swing through some of the more rural parts of Alabama, and had made several sales to smaller departments, which was a good deal since those were the kinds of place where sales resistance to the “Jap” units was strong.

“Warren,” John said, “I think you need a pretty good bonus. You’ve really been slinging them out.”

“Not now,” Warren said. “Let it ride on the books, and give me a hell of a bonus in twenty-three months and a few days so my wife and her attorneys, whoever they turn out to be, can’t get their grubby hands on it.”

“Been there, done that,” John told him. “I know just exactly how that shit works, too.”

“Yeah, but you had pre-nups for two of yours, and didn’t have jack shit to give the other one. I’m not so lucky.”

“You know,” John told him, “it wouldn’t be any great trick to set you up with an office in, say Meridian. That’d be more centrally located and you wouldn’t have to come back here as often.”

“In two years I’ll take you up on that,” Warren said, “but not now. First, every time I come home I manage to sneak a little more of the stuff I don’t want to lose out of the house. I figure I should pretty well have it all when the time comes to drop the bomb. That ought to help out with the settlement a little.”

“OK, I can see that,” John said. “What else? It’s still a lot of miles you’re putting on.”

“And damn glad of it, too,” he agreed. “It doesn’t cost me anything like as much to operate my car as the feds say you have to reimburse me for mileage. Every damn cent of the difference is going into my attorney fund. Not even the IRS gets to hear about that.”

John was impressed; he thought there had to have been a little more to Warren’s story than he’d known, and this plan made some sense to him. “Well, hang in there,” John told him. “It there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. Like I said, I’ve been there.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Warren told him. “I need to get back out in the field first of the week, so I think I’ll blow out of here on Sunday.”

“Whatever works,” John replied.

Back in his office John reflected on the conversation a little. He knew Warren had a bad family situation and that his wife was really going out of her way to be a pain in the ass. The way Warren was going about things was probably costing Suncoast a few extra bucks on mileage reimbursement, but it was all legal, and Warren was an effective enough salesman that he didn’t worry about it very much. He did manage to bring in a hell of a lot of business, after all. What’s more, he didn’t have to have his hand held every inch of the way, like Tom. With a salesman as good as Warren he could overlook a little legal petty larceny.

It was getting on toward noon by then, and John was thinking about taking a run back to the Krystal Burger; those sliders the other day had tasted pretty good, even loaded down with onion. He was just about ready to get up from his desk and head to the door when he heard Annamaria call, “John, phone on line one.”

“It better not be that asshole from the tow company,” he muttered, picking up the phone. “John Engler,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“John, it’s Sally,” he heard. “We’ve got trouble.”

“What now?” he asked. The last thing he needed today was more trouble.

“The doctor was in here a little while ago, and said he’s ready to send Teresa home. I was just getting ready to go call you when a hospital administrator came in and said that I had to sign a promissory note for the bill. It’s seventeen thousand and some dollars, John. They won’t let her go until I’ve signed it and made a down payment.”

“WHAT? You’re telling me they’re holding her hostage?”

“Yes,” she replied sadly. “That’s about the size of it.”

This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.