Red Dog Saloon (13 page)

“What
if you’re wrong? What if it is him come back like he said?” Glenn asked in a
worried tone.

“Then
there’s nothing we can do,” Bart replied. “He will drag us to Hell with him. If
you're right then we may as well eat, drink and be merry.”

A
sick look came over the mayor’s face with Bart’s comment. Glenn was on the
verge of achieving his lifetime goals. The present situation threatened to ruin
everything as well as perhaps lead to a grisly death.

“Trust
me. We’re dealing with a human being,” Bart said as he placed his hand on
Glenn’s shoulder. “And sooner or later he’s going to mess up. All we have to do
is give him enough rope and he’ll hang himself.”

“But
… ” Glenn began.

“There’s
a reason whoever it is went after those three and not us,” Bart interrupted.
“They were the easy ones. They were soft. I don’t know about you Glenn but I’m
not like them. I’m not soft. And something else, I’m not scared either. That’s
just what he wants. He’s using fear as a weapon. That’s why Stevie is in your
closet. It’s all mind games.”

Glenn
reluctantly accepted Bart’s reasoning and sat down at his desk, putting his
head in his hands.

“Okay,
what do we do?” Glenn asked in a muffled voice.

Bart
wondered why he always had to be the calm one. Why was he the one in the
group who had to come up with the solutions to their collective problems? Why
couldn’t anyone else carry their own weight? It was like he had to do
everything.

“Okay,
you need to listen close because we’re going to be on a tight schedule
tonight,” Bart said as he coaxed the mayor’s head from his hands. “At
exactly eleven-thirty tonight I’m going to pull up to the curb outside your
office and blow my horn once. You need to have your window up so you can hear
it.”

“Do
you want me to come down and meet you and let you in?” Glenn asked. “Are we
going to carry him down together? Maybe we can wrap him in a carpet or
something in case someone happens to come up on us?”

Bart
corrected the mayor. He was annoyed that Glenn was getting ahead of
himself before he could reveal his plan.

“No,
it’s nothing like that,” Bart said. “When I pull up, I won’t be in my car.
Let’s just say I’ll be in a car that has been borrowed without permission so I
can’t afford to stay parked out front very long. I’d hate for one of your boys
in blue to come up and run the tag. That’s why we have to get him into the car
quick.”

“So
we’ll use the elevator,” Glenn suggested.

“I
was thinking of something even faster,” Bart responded with a wicked smile.

“Faster
than the elevator?” Glenn asked. “I don’t know of any way faster than that.”

Bart
knew a way.

“When
you hear my horn blow, you’re going to toss our friend out the window,” Bart
directed. “I’ll have the trunk already open so it’ll be quick.”

“What?
You want me to just hurl Stevie’s body out of the third story window of city
hall?” Glenn asked in a surprised voice. “That’s insane. Do you hear yourself?”

“It
isn’t like it’s going to hurt him,” Bart dryly responded. “He’s already dead.”

“But
… ” Glenn began.

“There
aren’t any buts about it,” Bart interrupted. “I’m the one taking all the risks
out there. All you have to do is throw him out and I’ll do the rest.”

Pausing
to consider Bart’s strange plan, Glenn still wasn’t sold. What if someone
saw him tossing a body from his third story window at city hall? It would
certainly hurt his reelection chances.

“Look,
it’s going to be like ten degrees tonight and the snow is going to start. There
shouldn’t be a soul on the street,” Bart argued. “This may be our only opportunity.
The way I look at it is we either go with my plan or you’re going to need to
invest in a lot of air fresheners.”

Glenn
relented knowing he had no option but to follow Bart’s plan, just
like he had twenty years ago.

“Eleven-thirty
sharp?” Glenn clarified.

“Not
one minute earlier, not one minute later,” Bart confirmed as he extended his
hand.

They
shook on the deal as they stood in the middle of the mayor's office. They were
now both part and parcel of the unholy alliance.

“My
light will be on when you get here,” Glenn noted.

“Don’t
be calling attention to yourself,” Bart cautioned. “We don’t want people
getting curious about why the mayor is burning the midnight oil.”

“Don’t
worry. I’ve been leaving it on at night lately to make people think I’m working
late,” Glenn admitted. “Some nights I even leave my car parked out front and
walk home to make it look like I’m working all night. Hey, it’s an election
year.”

Bart
shook his head in disbelief.

“You
politicians are sick,” Bart declared despite the improbable plan they
had just hatched to dispose of their friend’s body.

Bart
paused at the door as he turned to leave.

“Eleven-thirty
sharp,” he repeated.

“What
about our other problem?” Glenn asked.

“Don’t
worry, I’ve got that under control too,” Bart grinned as he closed the door
behind him.

The
flu had cut a swath through Castle County Jail over the winter. The illness had spread
like wildfire through the inmate population. Rhody Turner was one of the lucky
ones, avoiding the bug as it worked its way through the cellblocks. Being a
loner, Rhody tended to do his time in self-imposed solitary. Sure, he would
participate in a poker game here or there and become somewhat social if another
inmate was sharing smuggled drugs with his fellow prisoners even though he knew
what orifice most drugs came from that made their way into the institution.
But, for the most part, Rhody believed in just doing his time without becoming
part of a clique when at the county jail. It was his solitary nature that
likely spared him from the flu epidemic.

Rhody
saw many of his fellow inmates suffering through the throes of the flu while
avoiding it himself. The chills, fever, and the vomiting were par for the
course. He also noticed the tell-tale symptoms would usually get the sick
inmates sent to the infirmary and into isolation. Jail administration tried to
stem the outbreak by quickly separating the sick inmates from general
population. He would use those observations to his advantage this evening.

Lying
around his cell during the early evening hours, Rhody held a sock, heated with
warm water from his faucet, against his head. He made sure to point out to
the trustee, who served him supper, that he was not feeling well. His head
blazing after two hours of the warm compress, Rhody made his play. He called
for a nurse, using his best sick voice, around seven o’clock. Moments
later he stuck a finger down his throat and brought his supper back up. It was
a necessary evil even though supper consisted of his favorite - spaghetti with
mystery meat meatballs.

With
a temperature of one hundred two, vomiting and chills, Rhody was diagnosed with
the flu by the jail nurse. She immediately administered antibiotics
and ordered him moved to sick bay. Given the flu epidemic had been almost
stomped out, they would take no chances when it came to Rhody. A doctor would
not be available until morning so he would be held in medical
isolation until then. That would be more than enough time for the
cagey inmate. The first hurdle was cleared. Rhody was out of his cell.

The
move to sick bay was a major part of his plan since there he was away from the
prying eyes of the guards. In the cell block, any movements could be monitored
by the correctional officer who sat in the crow’s nest, casting a watchful eye
on the inmates in general population. Sick bay was a closed area. While still
well within the confines of the jail, guards would have to physically walk up
to the door and look inside. And, given it was the evening hours, Rhody knew
the nurse along with a guard would only check on him roughly every three hours.
This left him a wealth of unsupervised time.

Rhody
selected the time of his jailbreak carefully. Much like your average prisoner,
he fantasized, plotted and planned an escape. He used his many idle hours
in his cell to think on such things. While, for most inmates, such plans
remained simply a whimsy, for Rhody it was set in stone. During his many stays
at the county jail, he discovered the facility’s weaknesses. He also knew the
method of operation for its employees and knew shift change happened at
midnight. That would provide him with an extra bit of confusion as the torch
was passed between the second and graveyard shifts. Rhody wanted every
advantage he could get, thus his careful choosing of the time of his departure.
However, he would have more hurdles to clear before midnight if he was to keep
to his schedule.

While
Rhody was setting his plan into motion, Bart was also hatching his own. It all
began with taking delivery of a recently stolen sedan. His discreet contacts in
neighboring Pickett County were always good at performing certain jobs that
were often afoul of the law. Their first duties this evening were providing him
with the stolen automobile. They would also be providing a bit of
assistance later on in the evening.

Bart
realized he only had to avoid suspicion for a few minutes to accomplish his
mission. The snow was beginning to fall and the mercury had already dipped
below twenty. There would be very few prying eyes, especially after the false
call he would make, sending police to the opposite side of town just before his
drive over to city hall. Provided Glenn stuck to the plan, things should all go
off without a hitch. Bart wasn’t so sure his old friend could hold up to the
pressure. He was showing signs of cracking and that was worrisome and
surprising.

Glenn
had normally been strong like him. The pair were the alpha males of their
group. Where they led, the others would follow. Perhaps politics had made Glenn
soft. Bart now wondered if his old friend could even be trusted.

Bart
headed through the snow in the stolen car. The big flakes which had fallen for
hours were now starting to cover the ground. It would only be a matter of time
until the roads became slick and made driving treacherous. He had
given his surveillance team the slip hours earlier using one of his friends
from Pickett County to lead his tail away while he remained hidden inside his
dealership.

Bart
assumed he was being watched. After all, why wouldn’t he be? He was the only
connection, aside from Rhody, that Sheriff Delaney had between the murders and
the old Red Dog. It would be foolhardy not to keep him under observation if for
no other reason than to use him as human bait. Bart knew his father would have
done the same if he was still sheriff. Now, as he headed toward city hall, the
sheriff’s stakeout team was watching his home on the other side of town,
wrongly assuming he was inside.

Bart
eyed his watch as he parked his car on the other side of the park from city
hall. It was moments until zero hour. He could see the mayor’s light glowing
and could make out a figure pacing back and forth inside. The window was
already open. Perhaps Glenn would be able to hold up his end of the bargain
after all. Picking up the cellphone which came with the stolen car, Bart called
in a fiery crash on the East Street Bridge. The howl of sirens sounded almost
immediately as police and emergency crews raced toward the scene. It was go
time.

Glenn
had been pacing for quite a while. He was too nervous to sit still. That
had been his routine for the last hour. He would pace around his office and
pause for a moment to look out his window. Now, on what seemed like the
millionth time he looked across the deserted downtown, he saw a single
flash of headlights. It was Bart.

It
was time to pull Stevie from his temporary tomb in the closet. He had
dreaded this moment all evening. Glenn spread out the black tarp on his floor
in front of the closet and reached inside the closet, pulling Stevie from the
spot he had been hanging all day.

Glenn
gave the body a tug and was able to muscle the lifeless carcass out of the
closet and onto the tarp. He now realized why they call it "dead weight."
The body of his lifeless friend was heavier than he expected. Glenn was
particularly disturbed by the fact the body was no longer stiff, the cadaver
feeling soft like a piece of meat. The entire situation combined with his open
window sent a chill down his spine as he rolled Stevie into the tarp
like a cocoon. At least he would no longer have to look at his face. The
expression on his dead friend’s face was forever burned into his brain. He was
sure, however, that he would see it again in many future nightmares.

No
sooner had he rolled Stevie into the tarp than he heard the sound of a car horn
from the street just below his window. The single beep told him Bart was
ready.

“Just
do it,” Glenn muttered to himself as he latched onto the tarp containing
Stevie’s remains.

The
mayor let out a grunt as lifted the dead weight and lugged it to the window. He
could see Bart standing next to his car, looking nervously up and down the
street. Bart began motioning for him to toss the body down to him.

“I
can’t believe I’m doing this,” Glenn said under his breath as he gave the body
one more tug.

Glenn
felt a tweak in his lower back as he deadlifted Stevie's remains onto the lip
of his window. He again took inventory of downtown to make sure no one was
lurking in the shadows. Then, with one last push, the body fell free.

Bart
backed toward the car that sat on the curb when he saw the mayor release the
wrapped body. He didn't want the falling mass to land on him.

The
body hit the concrete like a bag of wet cement. Bart couldn’t help but wince
seeing the body bounce as it slammed against the frozen sidewalk. A fall like
that would have proven fatal under normal circumstances.

Bart
took no time powering his cargo into the trunk, pushing the body to the back
before slamming it shut. He looked up and gave a salute to the mayor as he
jumped back into the stolen car and sped away. Glenn breathed a sigh of relief
as he watched the car containing Stevie’s body take off. Meanwhile, in the
speeding car, Bart swallowed hard. His mission was only half completed.

Even
as Bart was speeding away from city hall with the body of Stevie Grissom
stashed in the trunk of a stolen car, Rhody Turner was crawling into the drop
ceiling above sick bay. The last visit from the nurse came minutes before.
His temperature was now stabilized, meaning there wouldn’t be another
visit by the nurse for several hours.

After
lifting himself into the ceiling with a blanket in tow, Rhody found himself
facing a utility tunnel which led into a crawl space that lay between the
interior and exterior walls of the jail. He pulled himself through the narrow opening.
He slithered through the tight chamber and emerged just below the cell
bars which faced the outside on the exterior wall. The exercise yard lay just
on the other side of a layer of concrete block.

He
wedged himself between the wall and the bars on the exterior wall. The interior
walls shielded him from view of the guards. He then pulled out his shiv and
began chipping away at the concrete that surrounded the metal bars. Other
inmates had started the project over time. Part of the block was already
chipped away leaving the bars loose. Rhody could hear the noise of inmates as
they began a small uproar on the other side of the wall.

It
was all part of his plan. His friends in the cellblock would
create noise to cover the sound of him behind the wall. It was like a team
game, the inmates all working together to get one of their own to the other
side of the wire. It was almost like they were escaping vicariously through
Rhody.

He
chipped the concrete inch-by-inch until he could see open space begin to appear
around the metal bar. The progress encouraging him, the smell of freedom
becoming stronger, he began feverishly hacking on the now-crumbling concrete.
He could almost feel the sun of the Costa Rican beach on his face.

Unwittingly
aiding Rhody in his escape were the members of the Castle County council who
decided to go with the low bid when giving the jail building contract
almost a decade before. Against the recommendation of Sheriff Delaney, the
county commission avoided raising taxes by hiring an inexperienced firm to
build the jail. Given the fact the contractor had never built a jail before, he
ignored suggested specifications, opting to cut corners. One of his cuts
involved skimping when it came to building in proper support within the
exterior walls. In short, the contractor built a hollow jail, something that
was discovered over the years by inmates in the facility.

The
metal bars now moving, Rhody gave them a hard pull. The concrete let go of its
hold on the metal. With one last tug, Rhody ripped the bars out of their place,
the force of his pull almost sending them falling into the crawl space below
him. Such a blunder would have surely given him away. A loud sound like metal
bars crashing to the floor would easily be heard on the other side of the wall
even over the sounds of the inmate uproar. However, holding on to the dangling
bars by just his index finger, he was able to salvage his mission. He breathed
a sigh of relief as he laid the dislodged bars on the concrete ledge
next to him.

Now
the question was if he could squeeze through the hole he made by removing the
bars. He would be working on faith since he would have to go out feet-first on
his belly so he could lower himself into the exercise yard from the second
floor. Anyone walking into the fenced yard would easily be able to see him once
he emerged from inside the wall.

Chipping
a few more inches of concrete away, Rhody realized it was now or never as he
tossed his blanket in the exercise yard. He pushed himself above the
hole and hung his legs outside the opening before wiggling
through the gap. He became wedged in the jagged opening a couple of times but
kept pushing himself outward. The lean inmate held his breath to get his
stomach past the jagged remains of the wall. He could feel the concrete ripping
his chest and back almost like the wall was eating him as he continued his
slithering back-and-forth. Then, with one last push, he was able to push his
chest free leaving him hanging a story above the exercise yard. Without pause,
he let go of the ledge and landed on the frozen ground below. The impact jarred
his teeth as his legs buckled beneath him. The next instant he was lying on his
back in the exercise yard, looking up at the snow.