The Boys from Biloxi: A Legal Thriller (20 page)

Because it was an older building made of concrete and bricks, the Truck Stop withstood the winds and water and was still standing after the storm. Lance put Hugh in charge of its repairs and renovations, and when it reopened in February he decided it would be his new hangout. He needed some distance from his father and Nevin Noll. He was twenty-two years old and looking for a challenge. He was tired of driving his father around and listening to his unsolicited advice. He was tired of breaking up fights at Foxy’s and Red Velvet, tired of mixing drinks when a bartender failed to show, tired of his mother’s quiet warnings about a life of crime. He wasn’t tired of the girls but was curious about a more serious relationship. He had his own apartment, lived alone and enjoyed it, and was getting restless.

Hugh’s official job was operating all-night convenience stores that also sold cheap gas. Lance owned several on the Coast and used them to launder money from his clubs. Their inventories were paid for in cash, at discounts, and once the goods hit the shelves they became legitimate stock. Their sales were properly recorded, taxes were paid, and so on. Most of the sales, anyway. The truth was that about half of the gross receipts never hit the books. The dirty money got even dirtier.

Hugh had given up boxing when he realized his strengths—a hard head, quick hands, a love of trading punches—were offset by his bad training habits. He had always enjoyed the gym, but Buster finally ran him off when he caught him smoking for the third time. Hugh enjoyed beer, cigarettes, and the night life too much to
stay in fighting shape. Once he retired, his afternoons were spent hanging around the Truck Stop, shooting pool and killing time. He loved poker and thought about going to Vegas and pursuing it full-time, but could never win consistently. He became an ace pool shark, won some tournaments, but there was never enough money on the line.

Honest work had never appealed to him. He met some drug smugglers and dabbled in the trade, but was turned off by the brutality of the business. The money was attractive but the risks were much higher. If he didn’t get shot he would probably get busted. Snitching was rampant and he knew men who’d been sent away for decades. He’d also heard of a couple who had been bound, gagged, and dropped in the Gulf.

He was at the pool table one evening when Jimmie Crane entered his life. He had never seen him before and no one knew where he came from. Over beers, Jimmie said he had just been paroled from federal prison after four years for smuggling guns from Mexico. Jimmie was a big talker, charismatic, and funny with plenty of tall tales of prison life. He said his father was a member of the Dixie Mafia and ran a gang of bank robbers in South Carolina. One job went bad and his father got shot, barely survived, and was now serving life in prison. Jimmie claimed to be working on a plan to help him escape. Hugh and the others doubted many of Jimmie’s stories but they listened and laughed anyway.

Jimmie became a regular at the Truck Stop and Hugh enjoyed his company. He, too, avoided employment, and said he made good money gambling, though he had always avoided the tables along the Strip. He said everyone in the business knew the Biloxi tables were rigged. He drove a nice car and seemed unconcerned about money. Odd, thought Hugh, for a guy who’d just spent four years in prison.

Hugh had a chat with Nevin, who in turn talked to a private investigator. Jimmie’s stories checked out. He’d been busted in Texas on weapons charges and served time in a federal pen in
Arkansas. His father had been a known bank robber. Lance had never heard of him but a couple of old-timers knew his reputation.

Jimmie was convinced a fortune could be made in the weapons trade. Pistols, rifles, and shotguns were being manufactured all over South America, where ownership was not as popular as in the U.S. Notwithstanding the fact that he had just served time for smuggling, he was ready for another foray into the business. Hugh was intrigued and they soon talked of little else.

The first obstacle was cash. They needed $10,000 to buy a truck-load of weapons, the street value of which was at least five times the investment. Jimmie knew the business, the middlemen in Texas, the shipping routes, and the dealers stateside who would buy whatever they smuggled across the border. At first, Hugh was suspicious and thought his new friend was either an undercover agent or a true con man who had dropped in from nowhere and was angling for the Malco money.

With time, though, he began to trust him.

“I don’t have ten thousand dollars,” Hugh said over a beer.

“Neither do I,” Jimmie said, cocky as always. “But I know how to get it.”

“I’m listening.”

“In every small town there is a jewelry store, sitting right there on Main Street next door to the coffee shop. Diamond rings in the window, gold watches, pearls, rubies, you name it. Owned by Mom and Pop, got a gum-smacking teenage girl working the counter. No security whatsoever. At closing time they lock it all up in a safe and go home. The smart ones take the diamonds with them, put them under a pillow. But most of them ain’t that smart, been doing the same thing for years, nothing to worry about.”

“You’re a safecracker too?”

“No, ass, I’m not a safecracker. There’s an easier way to do it and the chances of getting caught are about one in a thousand.”

“Gee, I’ve never heard that before.”

“Just keep listening.”

They picked the town of Zachary, Louisiana, just north of Baton Rouge and three hours from Biloxi. It was busy enough, population 5,000, with a nice little jewelry store on Main Street. Hugh, in a coat and tie, entered at ten o’clock one morning with his bride-to-be, Sissy, one of his favorite strippers. For her role, she was fully clothed in a plain white dress that plunged a bit low and revealed too much of her ample breasts. Her face was scrubbed of paint and mascara, just a touch of lipstick, hair unteased, the look of a cute little tart, almost wholesome. Mr. Kresky, age about sixty, greeted them warmly and was thrilled to learn they were looking for an engagement ring. What a lovely couple. He pulled out two racks of his finest diamonds and asked them where they were from. Baton Rouge, and they had heard of his store, his wonderful selection and reasonable prices. When Sissy leaned forward and gawked at the rings, Mr. Kresky couldn’t help but take in the cleavage and blushed.

She looked around, pointed at some more rings, and he deftly pulled out two more display boards.

Another customer entered, a friendly young man with a big hello. Said he wanted to look at some watches, which Mr. Kresky pointed to in a display before quickly returning to Sissy.

Hugh leaned closer and said to Mr. Kresky, “See that purse of hers. There’s a pistol in there.” The other customer, Jimmie, stepped over and said, “And I’ve got one right here.” He pulled back his jacket and showed him a Ruger clamped to his belt. Jimmie then stepped to the door, turned the deadbolt, and flipped the
open
sign to
closed
.

Hugh said, “Put all these in a bag, now, quickly, and no one gets hurt.”

“What is this?” Mr. Kresky asked, wild-eyed.

“It’s called a robbery,” Hugh barked. “Hurry up before we start shooting.”

Hugh walked around the counter, grabbed two large shopping bags, and began snatching every piece of jewelry and watch in view.

“I can’t believe this,” Mr. Kresky said.

“Shut up!” Hugh snapped.

In seconds the two bags were stuffed, the display cases looted. Hugh grabbed Mr. Kresky and put him on the floor while Sissy pulled a roll of silver duct tape from her purse. “Please don’t hurt me,” Mr. Kresky begged.

“Shut up and nobody gets hurt.”

Hugh and Jimmie wrapped his ankles and wrists, and rather roughly slapped the tape over his mouth and around his head, leaving only a slight gap so he could breathe. Without a word, Jimmie took one bag, unlocked the door, and left. He walked around the corner and hopped into Hugh’s 1969 Pontiac Firebird, with a fresh set of Louisiana license plates. If anyone noticed him, he wasn’t aware of it. He stopped in front of the jewelry store, Hugh and Sissy jumped in with the other bag, and the getaway was clean and quick. Five minutes later they were out of town, heading north, howling with laughter at their cunning. It had been as easy as taking candy from a baby. Sissy, in the back seat, was already trying on diamond rings.

They drove at a reasonable speed, no sense in taking chances, and an hour later crossed into Mississippi. In the river town of Vicksburg, they stopped at a hot dog stand for lunch, then continued north on Highway 61, through the heart of the Mississippi Delta. At a service station, they put their valuables—two dozen diamond rings, several gold pendants, earrings and necklaces with rubies and sapphires, and twenty-one watches—in a metal box and hid it in the trunk. They threw away the shopping bags and display boards from Mr. Kresky’s store. They replaced the Louisiana license plates with a set from Arkansas. At 3:00
p.m.
they crossed the Mississippi River and were soon in downtown Helena, population 10,000, with a Main Street that was busy but not crowded.
They parked with the jewelry store in sight and watched for customers coming and going.

Hugh and Jimmie had argued over strategy. Hugh wanted to carefully case each target and plan their movements. Jimmie thought it was a bad idea because the more time they spent on-site, the likelier someone would notice them. He wanted to hit fast and get out of town before something went wrong. Sissy had no opinion and was just thrilled to be along for the adventure. It was much more fun than hustling soldiers for drinks and sex.

At 3:30, when they were convinced there were no customers inside Mason’s Keepsakes, Hugh and Sissy, holding hands, entered the store and said hello to Mrs. Mason, the lady behind the counter. Before long it was covered with velvet boards displaying dozens of inexpensive diamonds. Hugh said he wanted to spend some money and she yelled for someone in the back. Mr. Mason appeared with a locked box, which he opened and proudly showed the handsome young couple.

Jimmie entered the store with a smile and asked about watches. He pulled his Ruger, and within seconds the Masons were on the floor begging for their lives. When their ankles, wrists, and mouths were taped, Jimmie left first with a
mason’s keepsakes
shopping bag filled with jewelry. Hugh and Sissy followed minutes later with another bag. The getaway was easy, with no one giving them a second look. Two hours later they arrived in downtown Memphis, got a fine room at the Peabody Hotel downtown, and went to the bar. After a long dinner, the three slept together in the same bed and enjoyed a rowdy time of it.

Jimmie, the more seasoned criminal, seemed to have great instincts and was fearless. He was of the firm opinion that no two robberies should take place in the same state, and Hugh readily agreed. Sissy did not have a vote in the planning and was content to nap in the back seat. The boys allowed her to wear some of the loot from Mason’s and she had a delightful time modeling necklaces and bracelets.

At ten the following morning, they hit a store in Ripley, Tennessee, and four hours later raided Toole’s Jewelers in Cullman, Alabama. The only hitch occurred when Mr. Toole fainted at the sight of Jimmie’s Ruger and appeared dead when they wrapped him in duct tape.

After four flawless heists, they decided not to push their luck and headed home. They were exhilarated by the ease of their crimes and impressed by their own guile and coolness under pressure. Sissy in particular was a natural at playing the starry-eyed bride-to-be and emanated pure affection for Hugh as she tried on ring after ring. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, nor could the men on the other side of the counter ignore her sumptuous features. They began to think of themselves as modern-day Bonnie and Clydes, roaring through small towns of the South, leaving no clues, and getting rich.

When Biloxi was an hour away, they began to bicker about storage. Who would keep the loot, and where? How would they divide things? Hugh and Jimmie had no plans to split things evenly with Sissy; she was nothing more than a stripper, though they enjoyed her company, laughed at her goofiness, and became lightheaded when she undressed. However, both men were smart criminals and knew full well that she was the weak link. If a cop showed up with questions, she would be the first to squeal. They finally agreed to allow Hugh to hide the goods in his apartment for a few days. Jimmie claimed to know a contact in New Orleans who would fence the jewelry for a fair price.

Two weeks passed without a word, no hint of trouble. Hugh went to the main library in Biloxi and scoured newspapers from Louisiana, Arkansas, Tennessee, and Alabama, and saw nothing. News of the robberies had not been reported by the bigger newspapers. The library did not subscribe to the small-town weeklies. He and Jimmie assumed, correctly, that the police in the four towns were not cooperating because they didn’t know of the similar crimes.