Geezer Paradise (25 page)

             
I stood at the bottom of the stairs and tried the door knob.  It wasn't locked.  I opened the door slowly and looked out.  It was just Jasper and the goon.  So far luck had been with us.  I closed the door and turned to Willey. 

             
"What do you think?" I whispered.

             
"Maybe we should create a diversion," Willey said.  "You know, something to distract him until we get inside." 

             
"Like what?"

             
"We could have Sofie throw something through the window.  Maybe he'd go outside to investigate. 

             
"But then he'll shoot Sofie and Oscar." I said.

             
"Well, we can't just walk in there." 

             
"He seems to be falling asleep," I said.  "Let's wait until he falls asleep and we might be able to sneak up on him.  Maybe we can surprise him before he has a chance to get his gun up."  We all sat on the stairs and waited, and then waited some more.  Finally the thug's head went down, his gun on the table.  I told Sofie to wait there with Oscar.  I was afraid Oscar might start chattering when he saw Jasper.  I handed the tools to Sofie and we took out our guns.  Then I opened the door and Willey and I stepped out of the stairwell.  We hadn't taken three steps when Jasper saw us and broke out into a big smile.  The goon swung around and leveled his gun at us.  He hadn't been asleep after all.  We didn't even have a chance to point our guns at him. 

             
"Drop the guns," he roared.  We had no choice, we dropped them.  He motioned toward Jasper with his gun.  "Get over there with your friend," he said.  We went over and stood next to Jasper. 

             
Willey whacked Jasper on the back of his head.  "That's for being stupid," Willey said.  Jasper rubbed his head with his free hand.  The goon picked up our guns and stuck them into his waistband.  Then he went over to the door we came out of, constantly turning and pointing his gun at us.  My heart was in my throat as he pulled the door open.  Sofie and Oscar were gone.  He flicked a switch on the wall next to the open door and the hallway lit up.  Then he stuck his head inside the doorway and yelled, "Come out with your hands up or I'll shoot your friends."  No response.  He clearly he wanted to check out the second floor but he couldn't leave us alone.  He walked back to us and asked, "Who's up there?"

             
"Nobody," I said.  "It's just the two of us."  The goon looked around, looking for something.  I knew he was looking for something to tie us up with.  He couldn't find anything.  Then he sat at the table, stood up again, took our guns out of his waistband and put them on the table.  They must have been sticking into his beer belly.  He stared at us from under his simian brow.  He wanted to kill us but he had to get permission first.  He sat again and opened his cell phone. 

             
"Damn," he said when someone answered.  "Guess what I've got for company? . . . Two old geezers with guns.  Yeah, that's right.  Broke in through the second floor and tried to sneak up on me.  I don't have anything to tie them up with . . . Yeah, okay," he said, a little calmer now.  "I'll keep them covered until you get here."  Then he started shouting, "What do you mean fifteen or twenty minutes?"  He stood and paced around, all the time keeping his gun trained on us.

             
"Yeah, yeah," he said into the phone.  "Just get here as soon as you can.  I got a bad feeling about this."  He closed his cell phone and sat down to watch us. 

             
"You two sit on the floor," he said.  "And no talking." 

             
Willey and I sat on the floor and didn't talk.  We hadn't been on the floor for more than a minute when we heard the thunk of a steel drum hitting the floor above, and then we heard the turpentine splashing down the stairs.  It came through the open door in a torrent, and spread halfway to us before it stopped.  The entire first floor filled with the highly combustible fumes. 

             
The goon jumped to his feet.  "You told me you were alone he screamed."  I guess he didn't expect us to lie. 

             
"We lied," I said.  "Oscar's up there."

             
"You no good bastards . . ." He moved toward us with murder in his eyes, but stopped suddenly when he heard a second drum go thunk on the upstairs floor. 

             
"Way to go, Oscar," Willey yelled.  We all watched as we heard the turpentine come splashing down the stairs, out through the door, and onto the floor.  We stood up this time because the flood came all the way to us and swirled around dour shoes.  The fumes were making me dizzy. 

             
"Tell Oscar to come down here or I'll shoot all of you," the goon yelled. 

             
"You can't tell Oscar to do anything," Willey said.  "He isn't human." 

             
"Whadda you mean he ain't human?"

             
"He's an ape," Willey said.

             
"Yeah," Jasper added.  "And he's big and mean.  He'll tear you to pieces." 

             
"You think I'm stupid?" the goon yelled.  "You tell him to come down here now or you're dead." 

             
"Willey yelled, "Come down here, Oscar."  The response was a loud thunk from upstairs, followed by another river of turpentine.  Then we heard, "Ew, ew, ew, ew, ee, ee, ee, ee."

             
The goon waved his pistol.  "I ain't afraid of some ape.  Not as long as I've got this."  He waved his gun.

             
"That pea shooter won't bother Oscar," I said.  "You know how thick the leather is on an ape's chest?  It's over an inch thick.  A howitzer couldn't penetrate that.  I just made up the one inch part, but the goon believed it."  

             
Thunk, another drum down--another river of turpentine.  The fumes were so heavy that the tiniest little spark would blow the whole place into the stratosphere.

             
"With all these fumes, I'm pretty sure if you shoot your gun we'll all be incinerated," I said.  The goon turned pale.  He ran for the window, threw it open, and climbed out.  A few seconds later we heard a car start and drive away. 

             
"Sofie," I yelled.  "He's gone.  "Come around to the window."  A minute later Sofie and Oscar appeared at the window.

             
"Let me have the bolt cutters," I said.  Sofie handed me the bolt cutters through the open window.  I hurried over and cut Jasper free from the pipe.  Then Willey and I grabbed our guns from the table and we all scrambled out through the window. 

             
"Hi, Oscar," I said as we met outside.  "Did you help Sofie turn those drums over?"

             
"He sure did," Sofie said, as we ran towards the Wrangler.  "I couldn't have done it without his strong hands."

             
"Let's get out of here," I said.  "That guy called for back-up a few minutes ago.  I don't want to be here when they show up."  We all piled into the Wrangler.  Jasper sat in front holding Oscar in his lap.  Willey and Sofie were in the back.  At the first turn in the road a black SUV with four tough looking guys in it sped past us.  "They made good time," I said. 

             
Willey said, "Shit."

             
"What?"

             
"One of those guys was smoking a cigar."  I jammed on the brakes and we all piled out onto the quiet country road, and stood looking back.  It didn't take long, about a minute--then all hell broke loose.  The explosion was stunning--a gigantic fireball rose into the night sky, lighting up the landscape for miles around.  The percussion from the blast pushed us backward a few steps.  It was followed by an even larger explosion and fireball as more drums exploded.  Flaming pieces of the building were falling from the sky. 

             
Oscar was hiding behind me.  I wondered if Stevens was among the newly deceased.  I wasn't hoping . . . honest.  I was just wondering. 

             
Jasper said, "Damn, I bet that hurt."  Sofie made the sign of the cross and whispered a short prayer.  We all got back into the Wrangler and headed for Sofie's house.  We smelled of turpentine so bad we had to open the Wrangler's windows.  I felt bad that the thugs had been killed, but it wasn't our fault . . . was it?

             
Sofie leaned toward me from the back seat and tapped me on the shoulder. 

             
"I don't think we should mention any of this to Eduardo," she said.  Willey and I agreed.

             
Willey took out his cell phone.  "I'm going to tell Edna we have Jasper."  It took a while to calm Edna down and let her talk to jasper.  Then Willey took the phone back and said, "Listen Edna, I don't think we should send Jasper back home, it would be too dangerous.  Besides, his ex-wife has a detective chasing him around with a summons. Why don't we send him to live with Clyde in Orlando?  He'd be safe there."

             
"Good, I like uncle Clyde," Jasper said. 

             
"Okay," Willey said.  "Give Clyde a call and we'll put jasper on a bus."  Willey said his goodbyes and closed the phone. 

             
"We're sending Jasper to live with our brother Clyde until this blows over," Willey said.  "Let's head for the nearest bus terminal."  Sofie gave us directions.  After we got Jasper safely on the bus and waved him goodbye, we headed back to Sofie's.  It had been a busy night. 

              After Jasper's rescue we had a quiet day just sitting around watching the boats on the river.  Willey and I had sent flowers to Mary.  She was feeling much better and was clamoring to go home.  On the second day of sitting around we were bored out of our skulls. 

             
Willey asked, "Barney, have you ever been in a kayak?" 

             
"No, I can't swim.  Don't those things tip over easy, and then you have to use your paddle to get them upright again?"

             
"You're thinking of Eskimo kayaks.  The stuff they have today are one piece, made of plastic--and they're wide and low in the water.  They're wide open and it's harder to tip them over.  Besides, you wear a life jacket.  They're really safe. 

             
"Why, Willey?" I asked.  "Do you want to go out in a kayak?"

             
"Yeah, it's lots of fun and it beats sitting here letting moss grow on us.  What do you think?"  He had a point.  We were just vegetating, sitting there day after day.  Maybe it would be fun, and I could afford it.  And just maybe I could write an article about it for the Sun.  "Will there be any alligators?" I asked.

             
"They're won't be any alligators," Willey assured me. 

             
"Okay, let's do it."  We went into the house and I put my gun into my pocket, just in case.  We asked Sofie if she wanted to come along, but she said, "Sounds like fun, but I'm too busy.  You guys go ahead."

             
"What about Oscar?" I asked. 

             
"Oscar can come with us," Willey said.  "These kayaks are big enough, Oscar can sit in with me.  He'll love it."

             
"Be sure to put a life jacket on Oscar," Sofie said.  "And you two put your life jackets on, too."  We grabbed Oscar and we were off. We drove down 19A to a bank with an ATM machine to take out some cash.  It was far enough from Tarpon Springs to be safe, even if someone was able to follow our transactions. 

             
Neither of us thought it was a good idea to write a check with our name on it--not with Flaherty looking for us.  As we were leaving the bank's parking lot I thought I caught a glimpse of a red car behind us.  I looked in the rear view mirror--nothing.  Stevens has a red Cadillac, but I was probably just being paranoid.  How could Stevens know we would be at that bank at that time?  I let it go.  It was probably just nerves.  We drove down to 580 East and headed for the top of Tampa Bay. 

             
Sam's
Kayak And Canoe Rentals
was kind of campy.  Just the kind of place where you would be able to reach into the overgrown backwater creeks that crisscross Southern Florida.  We pulled into the crushed shell parking lot and parked next to a beat-up red pick-up truck.  It was the only vehicle there.  It must have belonged to the owner of the place.  At least we wouldn't have to wait in line to rent a kayak. 

             
The office was an old garage just big enough to hold a Model-T Ford.  It had probably been built just about the time when Model-T's ruled the roads.  On a small porch built onto the creek side of the garage, sat an old Cracker in a rocking chair, smoking a corn cob pipe.  The creek appeared out of the bush on the right, and quickly disappeared into the bush on the left.  It was Old Florida just as it would have been a hundred years ago.  It was perfect.