Crime and Consequences: Trunk, #5

By Steve Marshall

Nobody can screw you like family!

 

Tragedy strikes Holly's family.

Things spin out of control when Dennis Trunk's long-lost father shows up at the funeral…so do two men that want to kill him.

 

Ralph Trunk is the consummate professional – a professional liar, a professional thief, and a professional cheat.

 

But he does have one redeeming skill. 

 

He's good at planning – he plans heists, has a team to do the jobs, and has a near perfect record.

 

He's partnered with a woman who works for one of the arts and artifacts insurance companies.

 

They steal things that have already been stolen based on insurance investigation reports.

 

While the company is building an air-tight case, Ralph and his crew seize the moment for quick riches before the police are called in.

 

But Ralph is having a significant dispute with management and his team.

 

He refuses to do their next job.

 

It's their biggest ever. Their final job. And one they found by accident.

 

Would you murder forty people to score two billion dollars?

 

That's two thousand million bucks.

 

What if two of them were children? Would you still do it? 

 

Ralph won't.

 

He knows it's a suicide mission against an armed team of ex-military.

 

So, he has taken off with the score from their last job.

 

And everybody wants their cut!

 

Management is threatening to put out a contract on him if he doesn't come to his senses.

 

But Ralph woke up beside the boss every morning until nine days ago.

 

If I told you where an $80 million painting was hidden and warned you that there would be people waiting to kill you, would you still try to get it?

 

Dennis Trunk must face the chaotic force that is his father without getting killed.

 

What kind of man frames his own kid for murder?

 

A rotten bastard like Ralph Trunk.

 

Crime and Consequences  

Because nobody can screw you like family!

!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foxtail Media
• Release date: Apr 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393623878

Book preview

Chapter One

Ishould have died in Memphis, but I haven’t done a lot of things I was supposed to do. After three miles, I was in pain and out of breath. The road to rehabilitation was a long one.

When I was young, I was the fastest kid in my class. Now, I was lucky if I could beat the slowest kid. I was averaging a mile every twelve minutes with a lot of stops for recovery. I quit using a cane a few months ago, and my doctor and Holly both tell me my progress is excellent. But I believe they are biased in my favor.

Still, I’m doing better.

Not bad for someone who was supposed to die in Memphis. The bullets and the fall from the bridge should have killed me. There was only one reason I didn’t die: Mike Brown. The tug captain happened to be in the right place at the right time to fish my ass out of the muddy Mississippi before I drowned.

I was now the man who ran slowly along the beach every morning in Port Antonio, Jamaica. It’s a sleepy little town of maybe twenty thousand people, a place known as the primary port for banana and coconut exports. It’s also the hometown of the late heavyweight boxing champion Trevor Berbick, the last man to fight Muhammad Ali. Despite its laid-back appearance and small population, Port Antonio somehow manages to have traffic. If you are looking for a nice small town that is warm year-round, Port Antonio is your kind of place.

The sound of some asshole who kept blowing his horn at the truck in front of him that had broken down in a central intersection made my morning uglier than usual. I watched as the man in the truck raised the hood and began to examine his engine. I walked past them without stopping. The smell of gasoline from the truck indicated that there was a problem with the carburetor, or maybe the driver had flooded it with gas when it stopped, and he was trying to get it started again. Either way, I guessed that the fifty-year-old truck was going to need a few hours of work before it could be put on the road again.

I crossed the road to the commercial area of town. My goal was simple: ice cream. Port Antonio is never cold. However, after my first two days here, I realized that mornings were the most comfortable time for me to work on my rehabilitation. Rehab started at sunrise each morning with sit-ups and push-ups and squats, one hundred of each. Took me a month before I could do one hundred of anything. My first day of the latest rehabilitation regime I did twenty of each and thought I was dying. Starts and finishes of many things are painful.

Mille Fleurs is the name of a restaurant that serves excellent coconut ice cream. After the first week they became accustomed to the American with the nasty bullet hole scars on his shoulder and his leg who showed up while everyone else was eating breakfast. A man who only wanted scoops of ice cream in a paper go cup. Beatrice smiled broadly when she saw me open the door to enter.

How are you today, Dennis? she asked.

Tired, very tired, Beatrice. How are you this fine morning?

Her smile was lovely, and she had that authentic affection that I like about the Jamaican people. 

I am doing well. We had a break-in last night. Someone forced the back door open.

Sorry to hear that. Wait a minute, you have cameras there, don’t you?

We do. They were recorded. I’ve looked at the video and know who, she said.

What did they take?

Food. Just food.

Have you gone to the police? I asked.

No, Dennis, it’s best if I handle this matter personally. There is no need for police.

I understood. Calling the cops is always my last choice.

What are you going to do? I asked.

I will speak with them. If they come and repair the door they broke, I will make sure they have food in the future.

And if they don’t?

They will see a side of me that they won’t like. I know the boy’s mother. She is a good woman. Her poverty is not of her making.

You are a kind woman, Beatrice, I said.

Until I am not. Then I am an army of one, a ninja, she said with a chuckle.

I can come with you if you like, I offered.

Oh heavens, no. You would scare the hell out of both mother and son. But thank you for your kind offer.

If you change your mind, let me know.

How is the lovely Miss Holly this morning? she asked.

She is doing well.

Please give her my regards.

I will.

A young man came out of the kitchen area with a paper cup containing two scoops of coconut ice cream and a tiny wooden spoon.

Good morning, Dennis, he said.

Good morning, Robert, I said.

He handed me the cup.

Thank you.

You are very welcome, Dennis, he said.

Robert Townsend is one of the waiters at the restaurant. He also makes money on the side selling cannabis. He is how Holly and I came to have four ounces of exceptionally fine Jamaican ganja onboard our sailboat.

Beatrice, I must be going. Holly wants me to help her clean the hull before the growth takes over.

Well, you scrub hard now, my friend, she said with a big grin as she poured a coffee refill for a man wearing a suit and tie, sitting alone at a table.

I will.

I took me a long time to walk back to the dinghy tied up at the dock. My ice cream didn’t last long, and I finished it just as the clouds parted and the glorious Jamaican sun began its daily baking cycle.

Mr. Dennis, see your dinghy is still here, said the teenage kid standing at the dock.

It is. You’ve done a good job, Henry, I said as I reached into the hidden pocket in my running shorts and removed a 100-dollar bill and handed it to him.

Don’t worry, I wasn’t giving away a fortune. With 147 Jamaican dollars to one US dollar, I had given him less than a buck to keep an eye on my dinghy.

Do you need some ganja, Dennis? he asked me.

No, Henry, I have plenty, I said.

Will you and Holly be coming back to land later today?

Yes, this afternoon we need to go to the supermarket, I said.

I look forward to seeing her again.

I bet you do, I replied.

She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in real life, Henry said.

Me too, I added.

You are a very lucky man, Dennis.

Indeed.

Henry acts like many teenage boys do when they are around a pretty woman, all stupid and silly. He becomes incapable of his normal fluid speech and descends into the world of incoherent sentence fragments. Holly thinks he’s cute and in need of a girlfriend. I had him filed under V for virgin. Still, he’s a good kid, and I don’t mind paying him to watch a dinghy that couldn’t be stolen without an acetylene torch. High test chain doesn’t come off easily.

I’ll see you this afternoon, Dennis, he said.

Until then, my friend.

Give Miss Holly my warmest regards, he said with an embarrassed smile.

I will.

It was a five-minute ride back to our boat.

I could see Claire and Archie’s dinghy tied up at our boat. I guessed they came over for breakfast, and the thought reminded me of how hungry I was.

I was wrong.

Holly was sitting on the settee in the main cabin and crying. Claire had her arm around her and was rubbing her back. I had barely gotten down the companionway steps when Holly looked at me with the saddest look I’ve ever seen. She rushed over to me and hugged me with all her might.

What’s wrong, my darling? I asked.

Holly began sobbing. I held my wife in my arms as I gently stroked her hair, a technique I learned from a movie we watched.

Daddy has cancer, she said, then returned to sobbing.

I could feel her breathing against my body.

It’s OK, darling. Many people survive cancer. Look at Claire, I said, trying to cheer up my princess.

It’s inoperable, she said, and began sobbing again.

Are they sure? I asked.

Holly nodded her head then buried it in my chest and began to moan.

I won’t trouble you with the rest of our day. It was sad, depressing, and I was required to act in a manner that does not come naturally to me. I will, however, offer you the lesson I hope you learn from Holly’s father. When you think there may be something wrong with you, go get it checked out. Don’t wait years and hope it goes away. It won’t. Holly’s dad knew something was wrong years ago but didn’t want to find out. Some days he felt fine. So instead of catching it while he had a fighting chance, he stuck his head in the sand until he collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital.

Two hours later we booked flights for Holly and me to return to Florida the following day.

The next morning, Holly and I got into a taxi for the two-hour ride to the Norman Manley International Airport in Kingston.

Chapter Two

Ibelieve someone put my name on a government list.

We had a layover in Miami before we continued the final flight to Orlando. There was a noticeable difference in how they processed Holly and me. She breezed through with not even a single question, just a welcome home from the immigration official. On the other hand, I was asked why I went to Jamaica, why I came back, how long I was going to be in the United States. The latter question was answered with as long as I want, which did not receive a pleasant reception from the man wearing the uniform and holding the stamp necessary for me to enter my own country.

My interrogation with the immigration official was nothing compared to the search customs did on my bag. They even brought a cute little Beagle out to sniff my suitcase for drugs before they opened it and emptied all the contents onto the inspection table. No, they don’t repack your bag when they are finished. I stood at the table and repacked my bag as the man with the badge pinned to his shirt moved around, impatient for me to hurry up so he could begin his next search. This just motivated me to roll all my shirts up again and check that my underwear was folded carefully before putting them back in my suitcase. I spent almost ten minutes repacking my bag, and every time he said hurry up, I stopped and looked at him for a few seconds before continuing at a snail’s pace. We had a three-hour layover, and I was in no hurry.

When we got through customs and immigration, I turned on a phone I hadn’t used in months. It was time to call my attorney, Benny Baxter.

If you ever come back to the mainland, call me as soon as you land.

Yep, I can follow instructions.

I was sitting at a table in one of the restaurants in the airport, waiting for Holly to return from the bathroom.

Benny, it’s Dennis Trunk, I said.

Holy shit, didn’t expect to ever hear from you again. Glad to know you’re still kicking.

Holly’s dad has cancer and he’s not got long to live.

I’m sorry to hear that. Please express my heartfelt condolences to her.

I will, I said.

Where are you going? he asked.

Orlando mainly, but I’ll need to make a quick trip up to Jacksonville for a day. Got to see a friend.

Not a smart idea, Trunk. Cops see you here, they will arrest you and hold you just for fun. You know they had to reopen seven murder cases when you turned up above ground. I mean, they didn’t have enough evidence to charge you in any of them, they just used your death to close out some stale files. But you pissed them off by living, buddy.

I do that on a regular basis, I said.

Well, if the cops see you, they will book you for the Hodges murder, Benny said.

Shit, I replied.

Don't worry, we both know they don't have any evidence. It's just a 'fuck with you' arrest.

Charlene Hodges caught her husband, David, cheating on her with an underage girl. It turned out bad for him. Even though he died, I didn’t kill him. I’m just the only person who knows what happened to his body. Charlene called her attorney, Benny, right after she shot and killed David. Benny called me. We met at the Hodges home in Atlantic Beach. 

I should tell you about the complications; the first one was the girl. When Charlene caught both of them, she killed the kid too. It was one of the few times Benny and I argued about work.

When I saw the teenager’s naked body in the bathroom with two bullets in her chest, I told Benny the best thing for both of us was to walk away and let Charlene deal with the consequences.

I know what you’re thinking—me having rules, yeah right. But I had just finished my third job arranging reunions for child molesters and their victims when Charlene caught her husband and the kid. I had decided that anyone who harms a kid deserves to die slowly and painfully.

Benny pleaded with me to do the job. I refused.

Benny offered to pay me twice my usual price for both body disposals. Still, I refused.

Charlene was in the living room having a couple of shots of whiskey to calm herself down while Benny and I stood in the blood-soaked bathroom, arguing. David Hodges was fucking the kid in their big walk-in shower when she caught them.

Finally, we reached a compromise. Benny called Charlene into the bathroom then shot her twice.

Problem solved.

I admire that about Benny. He's practical and good at solutions.

Nobody got paid that night.

I need your help with something, Benny said as I watched a teenage boy slap his little sister for the second time while the mother argued with her husband. They were seated at a table not too far away. The young girl complained, but both of her parents ignored her.

What kind of help? I asked.

Accounts receivable.

No problem.

Sometimes good criminal lawyers get stiffed by their client on the bill. It happens more often than you think. I’ve helped Benny collect his fees a couple of times. Depending on the amount he is owed and the customer profile, I get somewhere between 10 and 15 percent of the money collected.

Good, I’ll brief you when you’re in town, he said. Don’t book a hotel room when you come to town. If you need to spend the night, you’ll stay at my place, OK?

Sounds good.

If you need a car, get Holly to rent it and add you as a driver. Let’s not give the cops an easy way to find you, alright? I’ve got a car you can use once you get to town.

You got it.

Don’t go to any bars or your favorite restaurant. And don’t go to the repair shop where you used to work. Understood?

Overstood.

I’ve got to get to a meeting with a new client. Gotta pay the bills. Give me a call when you get into town.

Will do, Benny.

Stay safe, Trunk.

Count on it.

The teenage kid slapped his sister again at the table near us. Both parents were still arguing about whose fault it was that they forgot to leave a key for her mother to go over to their house while they were gone. What if someone breaks in? God forbid.

Holly came back from the bathroom.

Have you decided what you want to eat? Holly asked.

Not yet. I was talking to Benny.

How is he doing?

Fine. He wanted me to tell you he was sorry to hear about your dad and if there is anything he can do, just let him know.

He’s such a nice guy. For a lawyer, he’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

Charlene Hodges would probably disagree if she were able.

We ate a couple of burgers. They were good. They had to be for a cost of fifteen dollars each. US dollars. Miami airport is a rip-off. Sure, they were made from Angus beef and grain fed, but they still weren’t worth the price.

As we ate, I watched the kid slap his sister three more times while her parents changed their topic to whose fault it was that they had to change their hotel reservation three times. Some couples shouldn’t get married and definitely shouldn’t have children. Let’s hope this is just temporary for them.

The total for two burger and drinks with tip was forty-five dollars. Got to tell you that I was not used to American prices. Most things in Jamaica are much cheaper than in the US. If it’s one of those really expensive items, like shaving cream, we use alternatives. I had transitioned to an electric razor set to leave a day’s worth of stubble behind.

As we got up to leave, we walked past the couple and the kids.

Just a moment, I said to Holly.

Sure, honey, she replied with a smile.

I stood behind the kids and leaned over to speak to the little girl.

Who the fuck are you? the father said angrily.

The guy who will fuck you up if you don’t shut up, I said.

I leaned over and whispered into the girl’s ear. When I finished, she looked up at me, smiled, and nodded.

What did you tell her? the mother demanded.

I was going to tell her that you two suck as parents, but I’m pretty sure she already knows that.

During the entire exchange, the older boy sat frozen as a statue.

Holly and I walked away.

Can you believe that asshole? said the wife as we were leaving.

We were almost out of the restaurant when we heard someone scream. We turned around to look. It was the older brother. Take it out, take it out, he yelled. A fork had pierced his hand and had pinned it to the wooden table. His sister looked at me and smiled.

We need to move, I said to Holly.

You’re a trip, Dennis Trunk...and a bad influence.

Actually, what was a trip was a young guy named Chaz Meadows. Chaz came up to us while we were waiting to board our short flight to Orlando.

Hey Holly Pepper, he said with a big smile on his face. Wow, I can’t believe it’s really you. How are you? How have you been? Where did you go? God, I’ve missed you.

Chaz talked fast and a lot. You know the type; they believe they just can’t say enough and act like there is a timer about to go off and they will be forced to shut up.

I’m sorry, have we met? Holly asked with her most polite tone.

Not in real life. But I’ve seen you online. I apologize, I’m Chaz Meadows.

Good to meet you, Chaz Meadows. I don’t do that anymore, she said with a smile.

I stood beside her and Chaz completely ignored me.

You were the best ever. Your elfin costume, my God, you made my sophomore year in college bearable, he said.

That’s sweet, she said with just the hint of a flirt. What did you study?

Engineering.

Wow, that’s more calculus classes than I ever wanted to take. I studied finance, she replied.

You know how it is, my dad is an engineer, so I had to be one too. If it were left to me, I’d have majored in music or drama. I really like musical theater.

Have you graduated yet?

In my last semester. Will finish and get my degree in December.

Where do you go to college? Holly asked.

University of Georgia, he replied.

Go Bulldogs.

Definitely, although I’m not a big football fan. I can’t say I’ve gone to any of the games.

How do you like Athens? I’ve heard it’s a nice town, she asked.

Usual college town. Plenty of bars, plenty of weed.

Sounds nice.

Listen, if you ever come up to Athens, I would love to show you around.

That’s very kind of you.

Maybe we can go get a drink before you board your plane. I just can’t believe it’s you. After all those times, I finally meet you in person.

This is when Holly turned toward me.

I’d like you to meet my husband, Dennis, she said, and put her arm around my waist.

Wow, sorry, I thought he was your bodyguard or something. I had no idea you were married. I’m sorry if I came off like I was hitting on you. I wasn’t. It’s just that after all those times, I couldn’t believe I ran into you in the fucking Miami airport. It’s like the most special day ever.

I tried hard not to laugh at Chaz. Understanding the male libido is easy. We aren’t that complicated as a gender. And those of us who are complicated are usually nothing but trouble. Stick with Maslow; that smart fucker figured it out.

It’s OK, I said with a smile.

I’m sorry, dude. Please don’t be mad at me, he said.

It’s OK. Holly is famous in certain circles, I said.

My roommates won’t believe me. Do you mind if I take a picture with you? he asked.

Not at all, she said.

Chaz pulled out his phone, opened the camera app, and then handed it to me.

I took three pictures. The first they were standing side by side. In the second picture Holly was leaning her head over onto Chaz’s shoulder. She was kissing him on the cheek in the third picture.

It was right after the pictures that Chaz realized that his flight was boarding, and he needed to get to his gate.

Before he left, he shook Holly’s hand then mine. It was a totally awkward move, but Holly smiled the same smile I’ve seen her use before on people who don’t know how to act around her.

You certainly made his day, I said as we watched him walking away quickly.

Probably.

Let me tell you about flying short distances. The plane can’t reach a cruising altitude before it’s time to land. Our flight from Miami to Orlando was one of the bumpiest rides I’ve ever had. Holly grabbed my arm like I was a life saver and she had fallen overboard.

Holly cried when she saw her father. He looked terrible.

She sat beside him in the hospital room, and they talked for hours and hours until well past midnight. The hospital staff tried to make us leave but with some non-threatening persuasion and permission from the doctor, she was allowed to stay.

When Danny Pepperino asked to speak to me privately, I expected the take good care of my daughter speech.

I was wrong.

Chapter Three

D ennis, I’m not going to beat around the bush, I need to get out of here, said Danny Pepperino. He sat up in his hospital bed and rested on his elbows.

The doctors and the medicine are here. They have staff here to take care of you, I said.

I don’t want to die in the hospital.

Nobody does, but most of us do.

I’m not going to be one of them. I refuse to shit in a bedpan. Don’t want no catheter either. But if I stay here, that’s what I’ll get. And for what? Pain meds? Sorry, it’s not worth it.

I understand.

Not willing to be a cash cow for them either.

Don’t worry about the cost.

Fuck that, Son. These folks can burn up money faster than I can count it.

We’ve got you covered, Danny.

No, you don’t. They will burn up the equity in my house in under a month.

Sir, Holly and I have been very fortunate. We’ve got plenty. We don’t owe anyone.

What about her student loans?

Paid off.

What about the boat?

She is the sole owner of that, and it’s one hundred percent paid for.

How? You’re an auto mechanic. You ain’t got a rich daddy, from what Holly told me.

I don’t. But I’ve done private investigation work on the side. Sometimes my cases present unique opportunities. Not all my clients are law-abiding citizens.

Danny Pepperino looked at me carefully for a long moment.

That explains a lot.

We’ve got five million dollars sitting in the Bahamas. Holly and I are set. We’ve got enough for you to have first-class treatment. You don’t need to go home because you don’t have the money to pay for your treatment.

It’s not just that. I don’t want to go through weeks of getting worse and worse. I don’t want to spend my last days helpless. Fuck that.

I had reached a similar conclusion if my psychosis ever got to uncontrollable levels. I’m not spending the rest of my life drooling on my shirt, sitting on a chair at a state institution. Not going to spend the rest of my life in prison either. Fuck that place. I’d rather die than go back there.

So, what do you want to do? I asked.

I want to choose my last day. While I’m still capable of smiling, enjoying a good song, watching a football game, drinking a cold beer.

How can I help?

I need you to find some drugs. All I’ve heard about the last couple of years is how some shit called fentanyl is killing hard drug users. They say it’s big time stronger than heroin and morphine. That’s what I need you to find for me. Can you do that? he asked.

Yes.

You’re a good man, Dennis.

It’s not as simple as that, Danny. Holly needs to know.

Shit, I was afraid you would say that.

She’s your daughter. It’s her right to know, I said, mimicking Chesed.

I know she does. I know. I just don’t want to go through the shit at the end. Let me throw one hell of a party, see all my family and friends, get everybody drunk. Then later that night I slip away with no pain, with no anguish, with nothing but fond memories of the end of my life.

You need to discuss this with Holly. I can find the fentanyl, but only if she agrees.

Then let’s get her onboard with this.

Holly and