|
|
|
TUESDAY MORNING THE ALARM WENT off at 4:30 a.m. He dressed quickly and walked across the railroad tracks to a pay phone. Ironically, the phone was only some fifty feet from the Blue Ridge Sheriff Station, a ten-by-ten feet glass enclosure that always looked used, even though he had never seen anyone in it. Maybe Billy Bob’s replacement would find a use for it.
He dialed the number listed on the piece of paper in his hand. Mr. Bob answered on the third ring.
“Who is this?”
“It’s your conscience again.”
“Listen, you little prick, quit calling here.”
“Calm down, Little Bobby.”
A dial tone was the answer.
He redialed. The phone was answered on the first ring.
“I’m warning you. Don’t call again.”
“Little Bobby. You listen to me, asshole. As of this minute you are no longer in charge. I took charge when I killed Billy Bob.”
“You are lying! He died from a hunting accident.”
“If he did, why do I have his little notebook listing all the women he and Craig have screwed? There is also a section just for you, Little Bobby. A list of the people you require a report on. I wonder what those people will say when I call them.”
There was silence. After a short while, he responded with: “You wouldn’t.”
“Do I have your attention now?”
“Yes! Yes! What do you want?”
“I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because if you don’t, I will take Little Bobby behind the woodshed and provide you with some long-needed pain. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then I will run a little test to see how well you obey, sort of a proof of compliance.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“ I want you to get $10,000 in $20 dollar bills. Put these bills in a self-addressed, brown envelope. Then find a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy and give him $50 to deliver the envelope to the post office at exactly 4:30 p.m. on Friday. Are you writing this down?”
“No, I can remember it.”
“Let’s hope so. I would hate to use the razor strap on Little Bobby. Oh, yeah. One last thing: no law officers. Any questions?”
“No! Friday at 4:30 self-addressed envelope, with $10,000 in twenty dollars bills... Then what?”
“If you have done what I asked you will never hear from me again.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you will get spanked.”
“How will I know?”
“If you receive the envelope back next week you failed the test. Now go back to sleep, asshole.”
 |  |  |
|
|
|