Pay Up and Die (9 page)

Chapter 17

“Hey, Michael? You have a minute?” Michael had just passed Derrick’s office when he was asked to come in. He was a little surprised at how friendly Derrick sounded since things were much more tense last time they spoke.

“Uh, sure.” He looked around and then entered Derrick’s office.

“Sit down, sit down.” Derrick motioned him to a chair. He closed the office door and then sat back down behind his desk. “Look, I just want to clear the air and make sure we’re good. I wasn’t myself the other day and now that I’ve had some time to reflect I realize I was out of line.” He apologized emphatically.

“Wow. Thanks, Derrick. That’s gracious of you. I have to admit I was stunned by what happened and I felt really, betrayed, considering our long relationship.”

“Yes, betrayal. I know how that can hurt a man.” Derrick shifted in his chair. He leaned up, his elbows on the desk. “I know that you spoke with Larry and now the company wants to look further into the matter.” He soaked in the shock on Michael’s face.

“I did? I mean, I did but it was just confiding in a co-worker. I don’t intend to do anything about it.” He reddened as he instinctively backpedaled. No balls to stand up to Derrick. “I asked Larry to keep things confidential. I’m sorry that he didn’t keep his word to me.”

“Yeah, well Larry is a great guy but he can’t be trusted with these types of, situations. So he got nervous and confided in his boss who decided that a formal investigation would be necessary to protect the bank. And you, of course.” Derrick turned his gaze out the window. “There’s nothing we can do about that now except answer their questions and show them that things are square between us. We do want to bury this, don’t we?”

Michael followed Derrick’s gaze out the window and then looked back. “Well, I certainly want to put it behind us. But, I think we need to handle the collections differently. We can’t attack good people like that and I don’t feel comfortable with the manner in which you were handling it.”

Derrick smiled and turned his chair back to face Michael. “Well something needs to be buried, Michael. If the matter gets resolved then we wouldn’t need to make alternate arrangements on burials, would we?” Derrick hinted strongly that somebody would get hurt.

“Are you still threatening me? Are you fucking threatening me again, Derrick? Because I am not going to take this shit anymore?” Michael felt empowered for the first time as the blood pumped through his system.

“Michael, you need money for Allison’s treatments. All I am saying is that you could afford her treatments and prevent her early demise if you just go with the flow.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my daughter. If you have a problem with me then say it but don’t bring my daughter or anyone else in my family into this, this, subhuman business you seem to be running.” Michael was straining himself from flying over the desk at Derrick.

“Now you see, this is the erratic behavior I mentioned to Dan this morning. First you come into work all bandaged up like a mummy with a face that looks like a punching bag. Then you make false claims about what took place the other day. And now here you are getting visibly hostile with me when I asked you into my office so I could apologize for your misunderstanding. I have tried to help you but it seems that there is something very wrong with your, mental state.” Derrick enjoyed this like a cat pawing a mouse back and forth.

“What about Ray Thomas?”

“What about him, Michael?”

“Larry told me what you did to him years ago. He complained and you took him out. They’ll see that you are doing the same thing to me. You won’t get away with this.” Michael fumed.

“I have no idea what happened to Ray Thomas. He was unstable like you, Michael. He just up and quit and then ran off and left his poor family with all kinds of financial hardships. I had nothing to do with his disappearance. Besides, they investigated every square inch and found nothing. Because there was nothing.” Derrick brimmed with over-confidence now. “But you go ahead and bring that up. I’m sure HR will find it as amusing as your behavior patterns over the last few days. It’s sad that you have fallen apart. You were always one of my favorite employees but I guess all good things come to an end.” He stood up to indicate that the conversation was over and that Michael could leave.

Michael was frustrated. What he believed to be a slam dunk case of getting Derrick to back down had now become a bitter struggle and he felt his odds had sunk. “Whatever becomes of this, I still need your help getting that money for Ally. Don’t take this out on her. She is very sick and needs this. I’m begging you.” He was near tears again, gritting his teeth.

“Bury it, Michael. Or you will be buried. Or worse, you may have to bury your lovely daughter.” The threat was out there now. No longer implied. It was official. He would bend to Derrick’s will or lose everything that was dear to him.

“If anything, ANYTHING, happens to my family, the only thing that will be buried is the fucking knife I will jam through your black heart, you evil sonuvabitch.” Michael stepped into Derrick. His breathing was so heavy and their faces so close that Derrick got hit with some of Michael’s spittle. He held the eye contact and wiped the spittle from his face with a handkerchief. Grinning, he put the handkerchief back in his jacket pocket. “If anything happens, Michael, it will be you who caused it. It didn’t have to be this way.” Derrick stepped back and opened his office door. Then he said loudly and in an overly-friendly tone, “Thanks for stopping by, Michael. It’s always a pleasure working with someone like you. I’m glad everything is okay.”

Michael realized the act was to convince anyone within sight or earshot that he had no ill feelings towards Michael. He knew he was cornered even more. As he left Derrick’s office with boiling blood, he resolved to end this battle on his own terms. Not Derrick’s.

Chapter 18

Sitting on the tailgate of his pickup truck, Martin cleaned his hands with an old rag. The rag was white a very long time ago. Now it was a filthy, off-white at best and ruined with dark stains over most of the material. He stopped toweling off his hands to inspect his crusty fingernails. There was so much dirt under each nail that his fingertips looked brown.

After finishing his job, the debt collector had stuffed his latest victim into the bed of his truck and brought it here, behind the major toy store where he had dumped the body in the large green dumpster. It was peaceful behind the store. No whiny kids or fat-assed mommy’s. Just him and the dumpster and the wooded lot beyond. Nice and quiet.

He figured he should give up on his hands as he knew he needed to do more work real soon. They would only become soiled again so why bother spending valuable time tidying up. He didn’t mind the blood. He enjoyed the coppery odor and the dried blood looked cool when it filled in all his pores and fingerprints. They became a crimson glove in a way.

The delivery bay of the toy store slid open and a little Hispanic man appeared to be standing on the dock. He took an immediate interest in the debt collector since nobody besides store employees or delivery trucks ever showed up back here.

“You don’t belong here, mister. You should take off before my manager comes out here.” The strong accent tickled Martin. He liked that these beaners always got offended when television shows imitated their accents, yet they all sounded just like that. He loved Mexican food, he thought.

“Hey. Gringo. I talk to you, okay? You don’t belong here and you need to get your truck out of here before la policia come to talk to you.” The beaner got more animated as his hands spoke more than his mouth.

“You should come over here. I can’t hear so good.” Martin teased the small man. “Maybe if you were closer I could understand that chico-rico language you think you’re speaking.” He spat onto the pavement behind his truck as he stood up in the bed. At full height, his imposing size had impressed the little dock worker. The man took a step backwards on the dock as if Martin could reach him from forty yards away.

“I no kidding. My manager is coming to take care of this, you see. I be back. Un momento.” The tiny man disappeared quickly into the warehouse to fetch some backup in his manager.

Martin unzipped his fly and urinated profusely off the back of his truck onto the asphalt. He titled his head back and enjoyed the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face. He zipped back up when he finished and then sniffed his fingers. He jumped down off the bed of the truck and then slammed the gate back into place. Slowly, the debt collector walked to the cab and hopped in. He closed the door and keyed the engine. He put the truck in reverse and backed up enough so that he could turn the front of the truck at the delivery bay.

By the time he got situated the little beaner reappeared with his chubby manager. They were both gesturing wildly and shouting at the man in the truck. But he no longer heard them because he revved the engine again and again. After several moments, Martin released his foot from the brake pedal and the truck tires kicked up pebbles and dust and other loose materials from the asphalt. The truck hurtled at the delivery bay at a high speed. The manager grabbed his chest and fell backwards. The beaner dove to the side, fully shitting himself. The truck brakes screeched as the large vehicle stopped inches from the dock. A huge cloud of dust and smoke from the brake pads filled the air and temporarily blotted out the daylight. Martin chuckled and backed up. Then he peeled out making lots of noise when the tires finally laid rubber down. That was fun, he thought. The truck disappeared around the corner of the large toy store building.

A few seconds after the dust settled, the manager sat up, still clutching his chest. He caught his breath and was relieved that the guy was gone. He really hated to deal with troublesome people but Carlito wouldn’t quit yammering at him back in the office. On his last deep breath, he caught a whiff of the shit that filled the dock worker’s britches and had left some moist pieces behind on the bay floor. “Carlito! Clean this mess up and then get yourself cleaned up. We can’t have shit all over the place.” The manager stood and pulled the chain on the bay door, closing it off from any more disturbances.

Chapter 19

Michael drove too fast. He had exceeded the speed limit by a good fifteen miles per hour as they headed home. Murph was slumped down in the passenger seat and appeared to be relaxed even though he was a little tense inside due to Michael’s erratic driving. He glanced toward Michael and saw that his face was tensed up, eyes squinted. Something had to be eating him up inside or he was holding in some noxious gas.

“You in a hurry, Mikey?” Murph looked back out the passenger window after the question.

“No. Why?”

Murph snorted and looked back at Michael. Michael felt his friend’s eyes and met his gaze for a prolonged moment. Then he returned his attention to the road before him and took his foot off the gas pedal. He realized that he was speeding and decided to focus more on getting them home safely.

“Sorry. I guess I was preoccupied with my thoughts.”

“Oh yeah? Hm.” Murph derided sarcastically. “More trouble at the cube farm?”

“I don’t want to kill him. But I don’t have a choice anymore.” Michael began to cry softly. He couldn’t control the emotion even though it embarrassed him to show Murph this weaker side. He palmed tears out of his vision so he could see the road.

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey. You’re not the killing type. You know that. What happened? Is it that buttoned-up tight-ass again?” Murph was worried about Michael but he never showed any signs. His strength was hiding his real thoughts and emotions. A skill he perfected in the military.

“Graves has taken things to a whole new level. He is threatening me and my daughter’s life. If I don’t go along with his plan then he will Ray Thomas me.” Michael’s voice quavered. His hands were shaking but gripping the steering wheel hid it from Murph. He turned onto the next street.

“Okay, I’m not sure what Ray Thomasing your ass means but I thought you were talking to someone about his behavior? Didn’t you do that?”

“Yeah, but,” Michael paused to find the right words, “it didn’t exactly work the way I had hoped it would. The guy blabbed it to his boss who then blew the whistle on the whole thing. Now we have to have an HR intervention or something. Me and Graves. Face to face. With HR and attorneys to witness. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Michael noticed that he whined like a kid. He made a mental note to sound more like a man.

“Wow. Did not see that coming, huh?” Murph leaned forward in his seat to straighten up. It was second nature for his body to take an imposing posture when he began to feel stress or needed to ramp up for a fight. “So Graves knows you ratted him out. What is your plan then?”

Michael stopped the car at a red light. He stared forward into the setting western sun. All he could think about was Allison. He had signed her death warrant. They were lost financially and now he had lost the only chance they had at saving her life. There was no chance that Derrick would approve their loan application now. Derrick would hold it up until he knew for sure that Michael would play ball. And even then he would hold it up, knowing that once he approved the loan that he would lose the leverage he had over Michael.

“I am going to go to his house tonight and kill him.” Michael sounded unsure of himself which contradicted his resolution.

Murph stared Michael down. “Seriously? That is your plan?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. What choice do I have? I am not getting the loan now which means that Allison is going to die and Steph will leave me for messing this up. I have nothing left to live for anyway so I might as well get my pound of flesh and make him pay for it.”