Going For Broke (8 page)

             
Clark got a serious look on his face.  “Trip ‘Asshole’ Vernon is going to go where his wife and children are.  So that’s where Mike ‘Shithead’ Towner is headed as well.”

             
Mike couldn’t believe he was talking to Clark.  He kind of liked him like this. 

             
“I really appreciate this Mike.  Thank you,” he said holding out his cuff-linked arm.

             
Oh, Clark, you had to ruin our moment, thought Mike.

             
             
             
             
             
             
###

             
Mike took his time packing up his standard-issue FBI black Escalade.  He had to follow the errant Mrs. Vernon, and without an electronic trail it would be harder to find her, but Mike wasn’t worried.  He figured she’d take the easiest path.  Women like her always did.   Besides, he knew exactly where she was going.

             
He had stocked up for the drive - his trusty cooler filled with sandwiches, sodas, potato chips, tortilla chips, beef jerky, peanuts and Snickers bars.  He was hardcore and ready to make the drive straight through.  Driving the Escalade, though, forced him to stop for gas at regular intervals.  He had almost made it to the Ohio state line when the red light on the gas tank popped on.  Again.  Jesus, he thought as he pulled off at the next exit for yet another refill, the FBI should think about investing in a Prius or two.

             
The town, if you could call it that, consisted of a no-name gas station and a Denny’s restaurant.  Mike had to laugh - it would have been better if the gas station had a name and the restaurant didn’t.   Good thing he was loaded up with sandwiches and could take a pass on the Grand Slam breakfast for dinner.

             
He pulled past the lot and noticed a large U-haul truck in the parking lot with New York plates.  Victoria Vernon at a Denny’s?  What were the odds?  He did a quick u-turn and headed into the restaurant.  This was something he had to see. 

             
He walked in and sat in an empty booth.  There was the usual assortment of truckers, a few older couples, a mother with a toddler on one side of her and a newborn on the other,  and one random punk rocker with a blue mohawk.  Nobody paid any attention to the guy with the mohawk.  They were all focused on Victoria.

             
When Mike walked in, Victoria was in a heated confrontation with what appeared to be a pair of local cops.  Everyone in the restaurant had stopped talking and was watching the show.  Mike found an orange leatherette stool at the counter  and grabbed a front-row seat. 

             
“What’s going on?”  He asked the trucker sitting next to him, who was also riveted on Victoria and the police.

             
“Crazy lady tried to walk out on her bill.  They called the cops,” he answered, not taking his eyes off the scene before him.

             
“She tried to sneak out?”

             
“Oh, no, she just refused to pay.  Said the food was so bad, it wasn’t worth what they were charging.”

             
Mike had to laugh and shook his head.  He had to say he agreed with her.  He watched as Victoria stood her ground.  The local sheriff must have been sent from central casting.  Mid-fifties with a waistline to match, he probably thought he could take down the little lady with the two cute kids and be back at his desk playing computer solitaire in less than fifteen minutes.  He had no idea what he was getting into, Mike thought.

             
“Would you want to eat this?” Victoria held her still-full plate up to the sheriff’s nose.  He stepped back to avoid having her eggs shoved into his face.  “No, I didn’t think so.  If there’s a crime here, it’s that they wanted to take my money for this...this slop.”

             
Mike could see that Victoria Vernon wasn’t what the sheriff was expecting, and he had to give the sheriff credit: He wasn’t about to back down, from a woman.  He started tapping his billy club, trying on his menacing face. 

             
“Ma’am, either you pay the bill, or we’re going to have to take you in,” he said. 

             
“I will not pay,” Victoria said, head held high.  “Arrest me.”  She held out her hands.  Her engagement ring, one of the things the FBI did not collect, caught the midmorning light.  No one in the restaurant missed it.

             
The manager of the Denny’s stepped in.  “It’s all right Carl --”

             
“No, it’s not all right.  We can’t have fancy folks coming in and not paying their bill.  Hell, if I didn’t pay every time I got a bad meal I’d be a rich man today.  Okay little lady, you asked for it.”  He grabbed the handcuffs off his belt.

             
“Carl, no.  You don’t need to,” the manager protested.

             
“I don’t care.  Take me down Andy Griffith.”

             
“Mommy!” The little girl cried out.  Even a six year old could see where this was going. 

             
Mike felt like he had to end this game of chicken now.  He got up and approached the cop.  If Victoria recognized him from her apartment, it didn’t she didn’t show it. 

             
“Sheriff, I’m sure there’s a better way to handle this,” Mike tried to give it his best regular guy voice.

             
The sheriff whipped around.  “Who the hell are you, boy?  Stay out of this.”

             
Mike didn’t want to have to show his badge, yet thought it was the quickest way to end this scene.  He motioned the sheriff over toward the register so he could speak to him quietly.

             
“Mike Towner.  FBI.  I’m, um, she’s a -- she’s under surveillance.”  That should do it, Mike thought. 

             
“FBI.  CIA.  I don’t give a damn.  This here girl has broke the law and she’s got to pay for it one way or another.  That’s how it runs on my watch.”

             
Victoria stood strong, waiting for her fate.  Who the hell was the guy with the sheriff?  He was good looking - was he an actor?  He looked familiar.  Though anyone she would know would never be caught dead in this hellhole.  

             
“Stay the hell out of this,” the sheriff exploded at Mike.  He turned back to Victoria.  “Come on little lady.  We’re going to go for a ride.”

             
“Oh, Christ,” it was Mike’s turn to explode.  He pulled out his wallet and threw two twenties on Victoria’s table.  “We’re good?” he asked the sheriff. 

             
The manager scurried and grabbed the money.  “I’ll get your change,” he whispered.

             
The sheriff laughed.  He had had his fun.  “Well, that is darned nice of your boyfriend here.  You sure are lucky lady.  Ben, keep things quiet around here!” he yelled to the manager as he walked off, laughing.

             
Victoria turned to Mike, more angry with him than she had been with the sheriff.

             
“Why did you do that?” she snapped.

             
“To keep you out of jail,” he answered.  “Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.”

             
“I didn’t need your money.  I could have paid for the damn food.  It was the principle of the thing.”

             
Mike was a little taken aback.  He didn’t expect tears of gratitude, but a thank you at the very least.  “I’ve found when people say it’s the principle, it’s the money.”

             
“I think I could have handled --” she stopped short.  “I do know you.  How?”  She was searching his face for something. 

             
“The Hamptons?  Maybe the club?  Wait - didn’t we meet at your place?”  He was toying with her and she didn’t like it. She’d rather go to jail.

             
“As if I’d let someone like you in my house,” she muttered.

             
“Let’s see, there’s Pieter the doorman, and your maid - Lucia is it?”

             
This stopped her cold.  Who the hell was this guy?  There was something about him, but she couldn’t name it.  Where did she know him from? 

             
“I really should be going,” he said as he doffed an imaginary hat.  “See you around.”

CHAPTER 6

             
As Victoria went past the churning steel mills of Gary, Indiana and over the Skyway into Chicago, she had a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach.  She hadn’t been back to Chicago since the day she left for Boston College, and had never wanted to come back.    She never even came home for Christmas in college - she always spent it with friends.  She was surprised, then, when she first caught sight of the city skyline.  It was a brilliant blue sky day and Lake Michigan sparkled. The city stood tall, like a beacon welcoming her home.  She almost got a little teary, and fought back the emotion. 

             
“Is that where Grandmother lives?” Posey asked.  Her adorable outfit of three days ago had morphed into a pair of leggings and one of Parker’s lacrosse t-shirts.  Her face was filthy and she had spilled a chocolate milkshake down her arm and across her lap.  Victoria had given up trying to feed her children any semblance of a healthy meal before she got out of Pennsylvania.  Fast food was the rule, not the exception, now, and her kids inhaled it as if they had never eaten before.

             
“No, she lives on the other side of the city,” Victoria replied.

             
“Where are the cows?” Parker asked.

             
“Cows?” Victoria repeated.

             
“Yeah.  Rutledge said that the only thing in Illinois were cows and crooked politicians,” Parker answered.

             
“That’s about right,” Victoria said. 

             
“That looks like a big city,” Parker said.

             
“It is.  The biggest city for miles.  Where grandmother lives is a much smaller town,” Victoria answered.

             
“With cows?” asked Posey.

             
“You never know,” Victoria said.

             
             
             
             
             
             
###

             
Victoria had never been to Barbara and Bud’s house before, though she knew exactly where it was.  It was a step up from the Chicken Shack for Barbara, but not much.  It was on a busy road right across from the elementary school, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the little houses up and down the street.  It was a square white box, and the Home Depot flowerpots didn’t hide the fact that it could use a coat of paint and a new roof.  The kid’s playhouse at their house in Connecticut was bigger than this house.  And probably better built.