The Lovely Chocolate Mob (31 page)

“This makes perfect sense. Miss Planter, you’ve given me hope.”

She smiled at this. “All in a day’s work,” she said. “Just keep writing those checks.”

What a beautiful smile.

I drove home that evening, feeling good about the Burke’s progress. Maybe we’ve helped to keep this family in one piece, hopefully not interfering too much with their own decisions. They came to these decisions on their own and wouldn’t blame us for “forcing” them to make the right decisions. Anyway, I was feeling good when I pulled up into my driveway, where I received a call on my cell phone.

“Hello?” I asked. “Mr. Owen, this is an anonymous phone call,” a strangely familiar voice said. “You don’t know me, but I know you and am warning you that the police know about Dr. Franklin Burke being at your home, and you have about 10 minutes before they arrive.” Then the phone went dead.

“Hello? Hello?” I looked at the phone for a number; all it said was “Restricted.” I tried to return the call, but nobody answered.

I ran up to the front door, unlocked it, and burst inside. “Walter! Dr. Burke! We’re exposed! I just got a warning, and we’ve got less than five minutes to clear out; the cops are on their way!”

Dr. Burke said “What’ll we do?“

Walter said, “I’ve got a contingency plan! Randall, get in your car and drive towards town, toward the police.”

I asked, “What’s this going to do?”

“It’ll buy us time,” he said. “The cops are looking for you and Franklin right now; the RV was only on the FBI radar, and knowing government bureaucracies, they probably haven’t coordinated with the local police. I’ll take Franklin with me; the cops will follow you and give a merry chase!”

“What if they start shooting?”

“There are too many video cams out there; they won’t start shooting unless you shoot at them first. Besides, they don’t wanna shoot you; they wanna shoot Franklin! You’re just out for a drive, and you’ll have your radio turned up high so you won’t hear their sirens; that’ll be your excuse. That may buy us a few minutes!”

“My radio’s broken!” I said.

“What about your CD Player?” countered Walter.

“It still works!”

“Put in some rock and roll!”

“I don’t have any rock and roll!”

“Well what
do
you have? Find something loud! You’ve gotta ignore the cops!”

“Okay, but what then?” I asked.

“I don’t know; I haven’t got that far yet,” said Walter. “Hold onto your cell phone; that’ll be our contact.”

I reached for my phone to check the battery.

“No, wait!” shouted Walter. He grabbed my cell phone from my belt; he took it from the pouch and opened the back, and removed the battery. “Put this battery in your pocket. Don’t lose it. If we have to call each other, let’s make it after 12 noon. Make sure you’re in a different place whenever you call. Cops can trace you through your phone.”

Walter is always three steps ahead. I’d forgotten cell phones could be used to track people. We rushed and got all of Franklin’s things together, which wasn’t very much, and threw them into the RV, and just before they took off, Franklin turned to me, took my hand, and looked directly in my eyes, and said “For all you’ve done, Thanks!”

This caught me off guard. I said, “What did I do?”

He said, “I was a stranger, and you welcomed me; I was hungry, and you fed me.” Then he turned and hopped into Walter’s RV and away they went, in a southern direction, down the street towards the back roads of town, a trail of dust rising as they hit the white gravel road at the end of my street.

Watching it disappear, I said to myself, “Maybe I did something right after all.”

I re-entered the house and turned up the television volume, turned on the lights and took the phone off the hook, locked all the windows and pulled the curtains, locked the house doors, and went for a drive towards town, keeping my car under 35 miles per hour. I didn’t want to get a ticket; they’re expensive these days.

Turning right onto Rochelle Drive, I saw police lights in the distance, coming my way. I put in a DVD and cranked it as high as it would go, with Sandy Patti singing patriotic music. I kept the windows up and watched the police caravan come my way in the left lane. Walter was right; all I could hear was the singing, and when the police cars passed me heading towards my house, I only heard the sirens then. I counted the squad cars as they went by, “One, two, three…” and on up to at least ten. The driver in the last car of the police group looked over at me for a split-second, as though he recognized me, but I turned my face toward the traffic and pretended not to notice. I saw the police car’s brake lights come on in my rear view mirror, but then it started going forward again, with the rest of the pack. Nobody followed me; I guessed they were determined to surprise me at home and find us there; this last squad car didn’t want to miss all the excitement.

The neighbors had a show. Police cars parked up and down the street, and all the policemen surrounded my house. They could hear the television blaring and used megaphones to call us out. They tried calling my home since I was listed in the phone book, but all they got were busy signals. The SWAT team was called out, shot tear gas into my home, hoping to smoke us out, but with no luck. When nobody came out, they decided to enter by force, so they got the shields and helmets and body armor and black garb and plenty of guns and ammunition. Two teams of four men each approached the front and back doors, and, through radio communication, were given the go-ahead to smash down my doors and enter the home. All of this tied up much of the city police force and fire department for about three hours, so I was told. The media had been called, and they were hoping for video of a weeping Dr. Franklin Burke being led out in shackles by victorious Lovely policemen, who had brought a thieving, murderous fugitive to justice. The rest of us (me and Walter, and maybe even David) would probably have been collateral damage and wouldn’t even earn a mention in the evening news.

It was after dark when I arrived downtown; I parked in the medical center parking lot. There would be a search for my car soon, so I deserted it there; I just got out, locked it up, and walked away. Fortunately, Miss Planter’s apartment was within walking distance. I didn’t want to involve her in this but didn’t know where else to go. Trying to not be too conspicuous while walking on the sidewalk toward her apartment building, I finally arrived at her doorstep and knocked.

Miss Planter answered the door, looking surprised to see me. I told her the situation, and she invited me in. I refused but asked if I could borrow her car, instead. Not wanting to get her in trouble, I said if anybody asked her, that I said I had a flat tire and needed to borrow her car. If I didn’t come back, she could say that I stole it. This would keep her in the clear, hopefully, from the authorities. She was my counselor, after all, and this could be verified.

After borrowing her car, I drove around the city. Nobody was looking for Miss Planter’s car but would soon surely be looking for me. I checked her radio; it worked, but I doubted if I’d use it to ignore a siren again. I wanted to listen to the local news to see if they had the latest scoop.

It was getting late, and weariness was beginning to set in; I needed to sleep. I drove out into the country, on to the gravel country roads, and looked for low and thick bushes, a place where I could park the car, somewhere off the road. Pine trees were nice, but they really didn’t provide much cover. I drove the car into some bushes, someplace off the road, climbed into the backseat and fell asleep, wondering if Walter and Dr. Burke got away.

Early in the morning, around 4 a.m., the loud sound of a helicopter in the area woke me up. A bright light also served to hasten my awakening, and I lay still, not moving a muscle until the light went away, along with the sound. I must have parked so far in the country that there was no clearing for a police, or worse, an FBI helicopter to land. But that wouldn’t keep it from radioing in to headquarters, letting them know a car was parked in a thicket outside the city limits, and sending another squad car to investigate. If I had been spotted, I’d have to move quickly. Good thing I wasn’t in my own car since I would have been identified for sure. Now that the helicopter was gone, I’d drive away to another hiding place before anybody arrived.

I climbed into the front seat, started the engine, and took off, remaining on the outer edge of the city. After about an hour of driving, I pulled over into another patchy area, overgrown with leaves and bushes, and drove into the middle of it, so that even the top of the car would be covered. Turning off the engine, I climbed into the back seat, and soon I was asleep again. Just before I fell asleep, I remembered hoping that the grass under the vehicle was wet enough not to catch fire from the hot engine.

I awoke again at around 8 a.m., but this time with a neck pain. I had enough rest, but it wasn’t very comfortable, not like my own bed. I had no place to run, no place to go. It would be only a matter of time before the police caught me. It was time to take action.

I took out my cell phone, and in the middle of leaves and vines and bushes, put the battery back in, called the Lovely Chocolate Company, and asked to speak with CEO Hal Ostrander.

Having done that, I took the battery back out of the phone and figured I only had to lay low for a short time.I stayed in the leaves for another hour until I heard traffic becoming louder, getting closer. The traffic rush didn’t get going until well after 8 a.m.; the country folk must have been headed to the city to buy groceries. I decided to move before I was spotted by neighbors and started the car up, slowly backing out of the covering so as not to scratch Miss Planter’s car too much.

Driving around the countryside, I came upon a gas station with a convenience store and car wash. I bought gasoline for Karen, using what cash I had in the wallet, knowing that credit cards could also be used to track people by their purchases. I bought cheap shaving equipment and made myself look presentable in the convenience store restroom. Good thing it was one of those truck stores, with the large restrooms, like they have on the highways. There were men coming in and out, but they didn’t pay any attention to me shaving; they’d seen truckers doing this and so paid no heed. I went into the store area and bought three one-gallon bottles of water and a bar of soap. I wanted to be clean if I were going to be arrested.

While driving some more, I spotted a secluded pond. Parking the car under a tree, I took off my jacket and shoes, and jumped into the pond fully clothed. Walking dripping wet back out of the pond, I rubbed the clothes down with soap until I was covered with bubbles. I jumped back into the lake, came out and did the same again. This time I poured a gallon jug over my head, washing away all the soap; I peeled these clothes off and hung them on branches. I did the same with my underwear and socks and went skinny-dipping until my clothes dried, which didn’t take long. With the third jug of water and soap, I gave myself an outdoor shower. I didn’t see anybody, and I hoped nobody saw me. After the clothes were completely dry, I put them back on, hoping to look somewhat decent. I felt good and clean and ready to face whatever was to come my way.

It was getting closer to noon, and I was beginning to feel weak. I wasn’t really hungry, just worn out from thinking and planning and wanted to feel energetic again. I got in Miss Planter’s car and drove toward the city, spotting the golden arches from the highway. It would be good to go inside where there was air conditioning and have a sit-down meal. Maybe they were still serving pancakes; at least I could check.

No such luck; they quit serving breakfast at 11:00 a.m., so I settled for an order number one. The young lady waiting on me gave me a strange look, as though she had seen me before, but didn’t say anything. I took my meal tray and sat down in a clean booth near the television, enjoying the cool and cushioned-back seat in a controlled-environment, until I heard a small gasp. Turning to my right I saw a little girl looking my way and then again at the television above me. I looked up to see the TV with my picture on the screen. I hadn’t been paying any attention to the news, so it took a few moments for me to realize that I was being portrayed as an accessory in the murder of Cornelius Lovely and the theft of the Lovely family estate from Susan Lovely. If spotted, the general public was to immediately call the police. I looked back at the little girl, who was punching numbers into a pink cell phone; it was time to get out of there.

Trying to look calm, I left the dining area, taking my coke and hamburger, making no sudden moves while exiting the building, but as soon as I got outside began a dead run to Miss Planter’s car. While backing up out of the parking space, I could hear sirens from down the street and figured I’d have about five seconds before seeing any squad cars. I guessed I had about another minute before customers identified Miss Planter’s car to the police, so I didn’t have any time to waste. I had to get to the Lovely Chocolate Factory. I pulled out of the parking lot exit in the back as the police pulled in the parking lot entrance at the front; I disappeared into the neighborhood. Good thing I played on a lot of these streets as a kid.

I drove around the neighborhood, taking all the back roads I knew, making sure to take it nice and slow, and it was about 25 minutes later when I pulled into the Lovely Chocolate Company parking lot.

A security guard saw me walking toward the front door. He pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it but didn’t say or do anything to me. I continued walking, as though I belonged there, and made it to the entrance door. I probably should have parked closer but was hoping to keep the car from being noticed. I wondered if it mattered, now.

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was an old-time circular clock, which read 1:15. I was early and would have to sit around in the waiting room, under the eyes of the receptionists, secretaries, and executives who walked in and through the area. I grabbed a magazine and acted as though I was interested in an article, pulling it close to my face and hoping that nobody would talk to me.