Deliver Me From Evil (2 page)

W
ade redialed the number to the video store, one of three that my husband owned and managed. Jesse Ray had worked hard to build his small empire, and he had taken me along for the ride. Not as an equal partner, but more like a paid companion. He never let me forget that it was
his
business, period.

“Woman, you are a lot more trouble than you are worth,” Wade shouted at me, giving me a cold look. “You better pray that your old man comes through with that half a million bucks. All this drama I'm going through, I better get paid! What the hell kind of fool did you marry? What kind of man puts his wife's kidnapper on hold?”

“I told you, my husband doesn't know I've been kidnapped,” I reminded.

“This is some … Hello? Yes, I need to speak to Jesse Ray Thurman,” Wade yelled, tapping the top of the telephone with his finger.

“Herro. This is Vlideo dwama.” The cute but heavily accented voice that answered this time belonged to Kim Loo, the twenty-two-year-old Korean woman who worked for my husband. Of all the people who worked for my husband, Kim was the most valuable. As his assistant manager in the main store, she was dependable, punctual, trustworthy, and smart. She even took care of all the accounting. Even though Kim was young and had some mysterious affiliations with the local Asian massage parlors, I didn't worry about her working alone with my husband. She looked like a sumo wrestler and had the face of a mule.

“I don't believe this,” Wade hissed. He glared at the telephone like it was a pile of shit. He glanced at his watch as I sat there, with my heart beating about a mile a minute. “I said, put Mr. Thurman back on the telephone.”

“Misser Turman busy,” Kim Loo said. “I happy to assist you. We are located at—”

“Listen, bitch, I need to speak to your boss!”

“Misser Thurman very busy,” Kim Loo answered in a shaky voice. In addition to the massage parlors, Kim had also run with one of the toughest Asian street gangs in the Bay Area. She was not a timid girl, but she sounded frightened now.

“Busy my ass. Look, china doll, you put that black-ass nigger back on this telephone right now, or I'm going to come over there and teach him, and you, a lesson you won't never forget!” Wade warned, still looking at the telephone with disgust.

“Misser Thurman reely busy talking to his brother on other telephone,” Kim Loo explained. I was glad to hear that she no longer sounded frightened, but she did sound impatient. And under the circumstances, I didn't know which was worse.

My biggest fear was that she would put Wade on hold for ten minutes or hang up on him altogether. Like Jesse Ray, she was probably thinking that this call was a prank or some disgruntled customer. But if Jesse Ray was on the other line, talking to his brother, Harvey, he knew now that the caller he'd just hung up on was not his brother. That gave me some hope. I was almost as anxious to get this “incident” underway as Wade was.

“Shit! I'm going to stay on this phone. You let your boss know that!”

“Who I say is calling?”

“Just tell him this concerns his wife and her whereabouts and her safety,” Wade answered with a smug look on his face. “You tell him that I'd like to make him an offer he can't refuse. For the right price, he can have his wife back.”

There was some mumbling on my husband's end and, suddenly, a sharp, shrill yell. I couldn't tell if it was coming from Kim Loo or Jesse Ray. But the next voice I heard belonged to my husband. “This is Jesse Ray Thurman,” my husband said, sounding more serious now. “Who are you, and what is this all about?”

“You alone? And you better tell me the truth, motherfucker, because I ain't playing,” Wade said in a firm and threatening manner. He no longer bothered to disguise his voice.

“Uh, something like that,” Jesse Ray replied.

“What the fuck does that mean? Are you alone or not?”

“Uh, my assistant manager is here … and a few customers,” Jesse Ray muttered.

“Get rid of them motherfuckers. Every last one of them! That chink heifer assistant manager, too!” Wade demanded.

“Please hold on—”

“Hell, no! Hold my ass! This shit has gone on long enough! You put me on hold again, and you won't never see your wife again. It's time to get down to business! Do you understand me, asshole?”

“Yes, I … I do understand,” Jesse Ray said in a hollow voice. He paused, and I heard Kim Loo mumbling in the background as Jesse Ray dismissed her.

“You get rid of your brother on that other line, too?”

“Yes, I did,” Jesse Ray said, then sighed.

“What about them few customers?”

“My assistant is taking care of them,” Jesse Ray said sharply, sucking in his breath. “Now who is this, and what is this all about?”

“This is about you getting your wife back and me getting paid.”

“Listen, whoever the hell you are. I don't know what kind of scam you are trying to pull, but it won't work on me. Now, whoever the hell this is, if you call here again, I'm going to call the police. I don't have time to play games. Is that clear?”

“Motherfucker! You stop talking crazy! This is for real! We got your wife, and if you want her back, you'll do what I say!”

Jesse Ray let out an exasperated sigh. “My wife is at the beauty parlor. I dropped her off there myself a couple of hours ago.”

I sat as still and stiff as a statue, looking from the telephone to Wade. At this point, Wade looked at me and pointed at me, then at the telephone.

“You know what to say,” he whispered, shaking a fist and giving me a threatening look.

I cleared my throat and closed my eyes as I spoke. “J.R … honey, it's me,” I whimpered. “I've been kidnapped, baby, and I'm … I'm so scared.”

“W
hat the hell? Christine? Baby, what is this?” my husband asked in a low, steely voice. “Honey, where are you?” Jesse Ray was yelling now, and he sounded terrified. “Are you all right? Have you been harmed?” His voice was trembling so hard, I could almost feel it vibrating through the telephone.

“I'm fine … for now. Please do what they tell you to do,” I pleaded, with a sob. “If you don't … they … they are going to kill me.”

“
Shit!”
Jesse Ray roared.

“Baby, go into your office so you can have some privacy. I don't want Kim Loo to know what's going on.” I didn't plan on it, but I let out a sharp sob and a loud sniff. My tongue felt like it had doubled in size, and it was flopping up and down in my mouth so hard, I could barely talk. “Baby, I'm so scared,” I managed.

A few excruciating moments of silence passed, and I kept my eyes closed until I heard my husband's voice again.

“I'm in my office now,” Jesse Ray said, breathing hard. He yelled for Kim Loo to hang up the other phone. Then I heard a door slam and a glass crash to the floor. “Baby, talk to me,” he bleated.

“J.R., don't let anybody hear anything you say,” I warned, scraping my tongue with my teeth.

“They won't. I'm alone in my office, with the door closed,” Jesse Ray said in a guarded tone of voice. “Don't you worry about a thing, honey,” he told me, his voice sounding tired and raspy now. I could imagine how hard he was sweating. Jesse Ray was the kind of man who got nervous real quick.

“J.R., don't call the cops. Don't tell anybody about this,” I said, sounding as hysterical as one might expect a kidnapped woman to sound. “Please get me out of this mess. I … I want to come home—” Wade pushed me roughly to the side as he leaned toward the telephone.

“Satisfied? You believe me now? This sound like a game to you now?” Wade asked, screaming toward the phone so hard, spit flew out of both sides of his mouth.

“Yes, I … I believe you,” Jesse Ray stuttered.

“And by the way, this juicy butt, big-legged woman of yours looks mighty delicious to me … yum-yum. If there's a bitch better than this one sitting in front of me now, God kept her for himself. I will do my best and try to be a good boy. Uh, I'll try to keep my hands to myself, but
I am a man.”

“
Shit!
Don't you touch my wife!” Jesse Ray shouted.

“Then you better get me my money on time before I lose control. And I know, you know what I mean.”

“Don't hurt my wife …. Please don't hurt my wife,” Jesse Ray said, this time in a weak, pleading voice.

“That's up to you. You do what I tell you to do, and everything will be all right.”

“What do you want?” Jesse Ray asked, his voice trembling. “I'm not a rich man ….”

“Bullshit! And Santa Claus ain't got nothing to do with Christmas,” Wade said, then laughed. “Brother, you rich enough for me! I got friends in all the right places, so I know just as much about your business as you do. I know what your black ass is worth!”

“How … much do you want?” my husband asked.

“Do you love your wife, my man?”

Jesse Ray hesitated before he answered. And that gave me something else to worry about. “Yes. I love my wife very much,” he said finally. “I have always loved my wife, and I always will. She means the world to me.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Then you'd be willing to pay to get her back.” I couldn't tell if the sentence was a statement or a question, because Wade winked at me when he said it.

“I just told you, I am not a rich man. I don't care what you heard about me. I'm a working man,” Jesse Ray said, raising his voice again. “I don't know why you decided to grab
my
wife of all people. Especially since the Bay Area is full of men with a lot more money than I'll ever have—and the women they love. Sean Penn's wife, Mick Jagger's daughter. Why my woman?”

“Well, I know about all them rich folks, but I ain't that greedy,” Wade said, with a sinister chuckle. “And I don't want to put myself in no position that might attract a lot of attention. I ain't fool enough to snatch no famous person's woman.”

“But you are fool enough to snatch mine?”

“Don't you get cute with me, motherfucker! I'm the one in charge here! And I just told you, I know what you worth. I done my homework. You want your wife back. I want my money. It's as simple as that. Do you understand me, motherfucker?”

“I understand,” Jesse Ray mumbled.

“Good! Now just to show you that I ain't one of them greedy bastards you read about in the newspaper, all I want is half a million dollars.” Wade was as cool as a block of ice. He could not have sounded more casual if he'd been ordering a glass of wine.

Jesse Ray gasped and started coughing. It took him almost a minute to compose himself. “
A half a million dollars?
Mister, you must be out of your goddamn mind! Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I'm the man with the gun and your wife. You'll get me my money, or you won't never see your wife alive again.”

“I don't know who the fuck this is, but whoever you are, you are talking like you're crazy as hell!”

“No, brother. You are the one talking crazy.”

“Look, be reasonable. This is not P. Diddy or Donald Trump or Bill Gates you're talking to!” Jesse Ray shouted. “I told you, I am just a working man. I live from payday to payday. I buy my suits from Penney's. I buy just about everything else from Wal-Mart. I don't have the kind of money you're talking about!”

I gasped myself because I knew Jesse Ray was lying! We had over two million dollars in the bank. Or I should say, Jesse Ray had over two million dollars in the bank. And that was just the money that I knew about. For a man who worshipped money the way he did, there was no doubt in my mind that he had another fortune stashed away somewhere. For one thing, he had made more than one mysterious trip to the Cayman Islands in the last couple of years. I knew that a lot of Americans hid money from Uncle Sam in island banks.

But I honestly didn't know what my husband was worth. In addition to the money that the video stores brought in, he had invested wisely over the years. He owned an apartment building in San Francisco, and he had made a lot of wise investments in the stock market over the years. These were just the things that I knew about. I was surprised and hurt that Jesse Ray would deny his wealth, knowing now that I was in such an ominous position.

“Well, if you ain't got it, you better get it. If you want to see your wife again. And just to show you I ain't all bad, I will give you till Friday to get me my money. Today is Monday, so you got enough time to do your thing. I will check in with you on … say, tomorrow morning, this same time, this same number. Don't you do nothing stupid, like call the cops. Or tell that big-mouthed sister of yours. What's her name? Yeah, Adele. She got a couple of cute kids, so we just might snatch one of them next if we have to.”

“Don't you go near my family!” Jesse Ray shouted.

“Then you better do what I say,” Wade warned, snorting like a bull. “Don't get your phone tapped, and don't have nobody up in that damn shop with you when I call you tomorrow. You can afford to close up shop for an hour or two. You understand me, motherfucker?”

The silence on Jesse Ray's end was disturbing. It was so complete, it seemed like he had left the telephone. I held my breath until he responded, which was a few more seconds later.

“I … I understand,” Jesse Ray stammered.

“Like I said, if you call the cops, your bitch is dead. And … so is
your mama
. Bye.” Wade unplugged the telephone and looked at his watch. “I can't believe it took all this time to get that stingy motherfucker you married to take me serious. I don't know what this world is coming to!” Wade said, with an incredulous look on his face. “You sure know how to pick 'em!”

“You didn't have to say that about his mama,” I said, folding my arms. “Miss Rosetta is the sweetest woman I know. You didn't even have to drag her into this mess. You got me, and that ought to be enough,” I insisted.

“Baby, I want this thing to work, don't you? If we want to make sure it works, we got to use every trick in the book.”

“I hope it does work,” I admitted. I moved the telephone from the wobbly chair, and then I flopped down into it. “I don't know what else to do.”

“Look, there ain't nothing else for us to do! If he don't pay, you can't go back to him and pick up where you left off. You'd be a fool to go back to that stingy punk. Bottom line is, he'd better come through. You and me both are fucked in the asshole if he don't.”

“But what if he doesn't?” I asked, wringing my hands, rotating my wedding ring.

“Then we go to Plan B,” Wade said, with a heavy sigh. “I go on back to L.A., and you go with me, if you want to. Somehow we'll make it,” he said, with a shrug and a tired look. “Being broke ain't the worst thing in the world.”

“Oh,” I muttered, looking around the cluttered room. “Wade, do you really love me? Do you love me enough to take me back to L.A. with you and take care of me?”

The tired look immediately disappeared from his face, and he replaced it with a smile, his tongue licking his lips. It was hard to believe that he was the same man who had looked and sounded so mean and angry a few moments ago. “Why don't we trot back upstairs to my bedroom and let me show you.”