Death by Lotto (11 page)

Walter Neff was nursing a drink at Al’s Bar on Sixth and Limestone. He intended to do more than nurse it. He was going to get stinking drunk.

Neff was bitter. He was bitter because he had been cheated out of millions by a dame he liked. It was hard to lose the money, but the money and the woman both? It made him feel like a worthless chump. Neff just hated to come up empty.

His mind raced with a thousand schemes. The money was lost, but maybe he could still have the dame. It was worth a shot.

Anger and jealousy gnawed at him. He knew deep in his heart that the woman was out of his reach.

Neff slammed the bar countertop in frustration with his fist.

“Whoa there, partner,” drawled a handsome blond-haired man. He looked like Tab Hunter. “Got problems?”

“None of your business, pard-nar,” sneered Neff.

“That’s where you’re wrong, partner.”

Neff turned to get a good look at his companion. “What makes you say so?”

“I would say that we have mutual friends. Perhaps mutual experiences as well?”

“Sure we do, buddy.” Neff turned back on his stool and took another sip of his drink.

The blond man leaned in closer. “I’m very serious. I’m always serious with people who have been burned by a certain redhead.”

Neff faced the younger man and wavered for a moment. “Okay. I’ll throw caution to the wind. What’s your pitch?”

“I know that a woman with red hair and green eyes cost you millions of dollars. Money that is now being wasted on Lexington’s terminally down and out.”

“How do you know that?”

“I make it my business to know. Let’s just say I’ve had previous experiences with the lady in question.”

Neff squinted while tapping his forehead. His mind was fuzzy but still worked when he concentrated. “I know who you are. You’re that loser that went crazy and tried to . . .”

“If I’m a loser, so are you. Perhaps you would like to discuss how to become a winner. I have a plan. Would you like to hear it?”

Neff hesitated for a moment but his anger was stronger that his common sense. “Let's talk where there ain’t so many ears.”

“That’s all right with me. By the way, my name is O’nan. Fred O’nan.”

Neff shook his hand. “I have the feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“So do I,” cooed O’nan, studying Neff like a wildcat does a careless rabbit. “So do I.”

In a corner booth sat a young woman with short ash blond hair. She was preening into a compact mirror while powdering her nose, which drew attention from her gadget resembling a smart phone taping O’nan and Neff.

When O’nan and Neff left the bar together, the woman nodded to two men sitting at the bar.

Taking their cue, they sauntered out of the bar following the pair.

Another man immediately scooted into the booth with the woman. “Put eyes and ears in both their apartments. I want each room available. Make sure you tag their cars as well.”

“Sure thing, Asa. Cars are already booted,” he said in a cockney accent.

Asa frowned at the use of her name. Her tone turned very chilly. “I want their every movement tracked.”

Getting the message, the man reminded her, “This is gonna cost a bundle, boss.”

“Don’t worry about the money. I will take care of everyone. Just do your best.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’ve seen O’nan’s psychological profile. If it were your mother, what would you do?”

“He would have already been neutralized. Made it look like a car accident . . . if he had been bothering me mum, ma’am.”

Asa nodded in agreement. She wasn’t ruling that option out.

She threw a twenty on the table and left with her employee. Outside they parted. Asa got into a black SUV with government tags and pulled off her wig. “Take me home,” she said to the driver.

“To the airport?”

“Sorry, no. Take me home to the Butterfly. I need to see my mother.”

Before the SUV could take off, the back door was wrenched open.

“What are you doing here, Asa?” asked Officer Kelly, leaning in. “I was sitting in the back watching you watching O’nan. Don’t do anything stupid. The city would love to see your mother trip up so they don’t have to pay her the rest of the settlement. And don’t think they don’t know you’re here. There were three other cops at Al’s bar tonight.”

“I must be getting sloppy,” admitted Asa. She smiled sweetly at him.

Kelly’s eyes grew soft. “Asa. Asa.”

Asa leaned forward and kissed Kelly, holding onto him tightly.

He passionately returned her kiss, winding his arms about her. Asa pulled Kelly into the back seat and mouthed to her driver – GO!

“Where’re we going?” asked a bewildered Kelly.

“Shut up,” replied Asa tenderly. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

The story has a happy ending. Ethel’s pastor redeemed the lottery ticket on her behalf. When the money came through, Ethel immediately threw ten thousand at Jubal, and put in her will that he was receive two million after her “natural death.”

I never told Ethel that her only living kin had tried to harm her. Jubal would never be a problem to Ethel again – not with the deacons from Ethel’s church looking on. There was no point in destroying their relationship. Let sleeping dogs lie, I say.

I’m not a fan of total honesty. There is no point in telling a woman who’s in love with a new dress that she looks hideous in it. She will never forgive you for that honest review. I wish I had kept my mouth shut more during my marriage. If I’d had that philosophy then, I might have kept my husband.

Just a little side note – two days after Jubal received his ten thousand dollars, he got drunk as a skunk and crashed his car into a hundred-year-old white oak tree on Posey Ridge Road. He arrived at the hospital D.O.A. – Dead On Arrival. Poor greedy Jubal.

“That’s a bright spot,” declared Lady Elsmere upon hearing the news. “I never liked the man. He was always a cheat.”

I concurred. “She’s better off without him mudding up the works.”

After Jubal’s funeral, Ethel gave her church a spanking new roof, a new furnace, new paint job and fancy cushioned pews.

The rest of the lottery money was given to the church in the name of Ethel’s deceased husband and son as an endowment to do “good deeds” regardless of race, creed or religion. Just heal the sick and feed the hungry like in the Good Book. Ethel’s pastor became her adopted son and took wonderful care of her. She and Petty lived another five years in happy contentment. When Petty died, Ethel followed her beloved tabby two days later. They were buried together.

When the pastor inherited Jubal’s two million, he donated half of it to his church so that Ethel’s money would continue to do “good deeds” for a long time.

Then the pastor gave his two weeks notice to the church board. With his other million safely tucked away in a bank in the Bahamas, he tipped his hat, waved goodbye and retired to some tropical island, never to step inside a church again.

Walter Neff continues to work as a shamus. He crosses the street when he sees me. Walter should have been more of a stand-up guy.

Like I said – you win some. You lose some.