The Fixer

Chapter 6

Dan had told us a raid could be disastrous. The videos might be at another location, and they were evidence which we sorely needed. We also wanted some verbal acknowledgment of the blackmail. Without that, anyone arrested certainly couldn’t be held, but that presupposes we could arrest anyone; getting a warrant for an arrest based on what we have now would be iffy. But if someone was arrested and was granted bail, there would be nothing to stop them from airing the videos.

Whatever we decided to do, it seemed subterfuge would be the way to proceed.

It would be risky, of course. Mr. Mapes seemed to be a loose end who could unravel in a moment if he were provoked—or even suspicious. He also hadn’t seemed very bright to me. Could we use him? I thought he was too volatile to mess with.

We kicked around some ideas, but many of them were ludicrously impractical.

At some point, Jaxon and Coop joined us. We spent several hours talking. More constructive and practical ideas began to emerge.

I didn’t like the plan that eventually evolved. I’m not sure any of us did. While we all thought it could work—actually that there was a very good chance it would give us what we wanted—it was also risky. I didn’t like risk. I especially didn’t like that some of the risk would be Jaxon’s.

A plan was just a plan. We could envision events playing out as we had choreographed them, and we could hope all contingencies were accounted for, but we were dealing with human nature, and because it made sense that someone would act a certain way or at least in some other possibly predictable way we had covered, we just didn’t know for sure what would happen once the ball was rolling. I’d read somewhere that with an ambush, you could think you had everything nailed down, but once the bullets began to fly, the plan didn’t amount to a hill of beans and at that point, it was every man for himself.

Regardless of my trepidations, we decided to go ahead with the plan.

When it was time for Clare to deliver his weekly donation to the church, he gave me the cash, and I drove to the pastor’s house. Jaxon was in the front seat with me.

I was nervous. If Jaxon was, he didn’t show it at all.

The house was behind the church as Clare had said. It was a small, single-story house without much charm. There were trees and shrubs adjacent to the property, but the house itself stood on a small lot with an untended lawn that featured more weeds than grass. The driveway was on the edge of the property and led to a single-car garage located a short distance from the house.

There was a car parked near the garage. The rest of the driveway, a graveled rather than blacktopped lane, was empty. Jaxon pointed and said, “That’s my father’s car.”

That was to be expected as Clare’s donation was due, and he’d said that Mr. Mapes was always there to collect it.

We were using Clare’s car rather than mine. I drove onto the driveway and stopped near the street, only driving a few feet before coming to a halt. I was much closer to the road than the house. I turned off the engine, then sat still in the driver’s seat with my window about an inch down from the top. Jaxon’s window was open that same inch.

We sat there, waiting. We expected Mr. Mapes would wonder what was going on, why Mr. Beal wasn’t bringing him the money, and that he would eventually step out to see what the problem was.

I had to work to keep my nerves in check; I tried to relax. I noticed I was gripping the steering wheel tightly enough that my fingers had turned white. I loosened them.

A few minutes passed. Neither Jaxon nor I was speaking. Then the door of the house opened and Mr. Mapes stepped out.

“There he is,” Jaxon said. His voice was higher than usual. He might not show it, but he was as nervous as I was. That was fine; he could be as nervous as he wanted. Not me. I needed to seem unaffected by Mr. Mapes presence, exhibiting no intimidation whatsoever.

We sat where we were. Mr. Mapes stared at us, then started toward the car.

We sat still. He came within two feet of the car and stopped. He was on my side of the car. He motioned for me to lower the window. I did, another inch, but that was all.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” he asked loudly.

“I came to return your son to you. He’s gay, and I won’t stand for that. And I came to give you Mr. Beal’s blackmail money instead of Mr. Beal doing so. He’s ill. I think he had a heart attack. He didn’t like the way I was questioning him. Before that, he was insistent: his money had to come to you on time.”

That made Mr. Mapes stop to think. It seemed a slow process. Then he said, “Keep the boy. I don’t want him. He thinks he’s gay. He isn’t, and unless he’s now realized that, I don’t want him around. But give me the money.”

Jaxon leaned toward me and spoke over me to his father. “I am still gay. And I have a boyfriend. When anyone asks, I tell them I have a boyfriend. They all know I am your son. I tell them I got my gayness from you, that it was hereditary. I like having a boyfriend and doing what boyfriends do.”

That had the effect we were fairly sure it would. Mr. Mapes got red in the face. He was unable to control his temper, just as Jaxon had predicted. He grabbed the handle of the door where I was sitting. The door was locked. He yanked on it hard enough to rock the car; it wouldn’t open. Then, madder still, he pounded on the top of the car, and that having no effect, he swung his fist at my window. Jaxon had also told us Mr. Mapes was accustomed to taking out his anger physically.

I looked away, expecting glass to shatter all over me, but the window crumpled instead of shattering. It also buckled in toward me an inch or so. Mr. Mapes swung again, and this time the window, still intact, was knocked into the car, dropping into the space I’d made by leaning toward Jaxon.

This was expected. It was the other reason I’d partly opened the window.

At that point, I sat up straight and pointed my handgun at Mr. Mapes. Dan had lent me the gun and told me how to hold it.

“Take a step back. Do it now, or I’ll shoot you in the stomach. I understand getting gut shot is as painful as it gets, and if the EMTs don’t get here quick, you’ll bleed out. Move back—now!”

I’d had years of practice speaking sternly and convincingly to students, doing so with a hard face and uncompromising eyes. The experience helped. I was able to overcome my nerves and sound like I meant it. He bought it, at least.

My gun hand was firm. No shake at all. He took a step back. Most bullies are cowards at heart.

“Now I won’t be giving you this,” I said, showing him the money. “I’ll use it to have my car fixed.”

He was holding his hand which probably hurt quite a bit. But he was still belligerent. “Oh no you don’t. You pay me that money now or Beal knows what’ll happen.”

“Oh, you mean the videos? I know all about that. From the questioning I mentioned. And if you show them, Mr. Beal will have no reason to stay quiet about the blackmail. No, you’d be dumb to show them. Do so and the whole blackmail scheme falls apart. Anyway, you’re a sucker. You’ve gone along with this as the muscle for the pastor; but why? Why not run it yourself? You certainly know where the videos are. You could have done this all along. You weren’t smart enough to figure that out.”

He was listening. That was what we’d hoped would happen.

“What’s Morganstaller giving you, ten percent of the money he takes in? Maybe twenty if he’s being very generous? He’s been playing you for a chump. This whole scheme wouldn’t work without you, and he’s getting rich and you’re making beer money. How much is he paying you?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I’d hoped he’d tell me, admitting to the scheme, but I hadn’t expected him to.

I continued, not giving him much chance to think when I saw he wasn’t going to answer. “I’m here to offer you a better deal. I take over from Morganstaller. We don’t need him. You know where the videos are. You get them from him, then you and I can run the scam. I’ll split the take with you. You get half! You’re certainly not getting that much from him now. We’ll both get rich.”

I could see the wheels turning. I hoped they weren’t turning too much. Just enough is what I wanted.

“If I were going to do that, what the fuck would I need you for?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.

Ha. I had him. “You need me because I know the cops in town, and they know me. They know you, too. So, if anyone your hooks are in gets fed up or bled dry and complains to the cops about the blackmail, I can talk our way out of it. You can’t. Also, I just told you that you can’t release the videos and why you can’t. You can’t run this thing without fucking it up. But I can. I know how to keep the scam alive without using our ace in the hole: the videos. Do you? No, you don’t.

“But before I jump into this and help you out, make you a whole lot more money and keep the cops off you, tell me, how many guys besides Mr. Beal are you blackmailing? I need to know the extent of the risk I’ll be taking. No names, just how many. That might make a difference in how we set this up and how we grow the business. If you’ve got, say, 20 people paying up, that’s too many to control. This could go south any minute, and I want no part of it.”

He stared malevolently at me. It looked like he wasn’t going to bite. But I also thought there was a good chance his greed would overcome his caution. And he liked the idea of a fifty-fifty split. Sort of meant he was a full partner in the scheme. An elevation in status for sure.

“Six,” he said.

“Only six? Shit! We can get more. But slowly. Control is vital. We can grow slowly and keep a strong grip on it. You know, Morganstaller is small-time. We can expand this. You and I. That’s another reason why you need me.”

“But what about Morganstaller? He won’t take this lying down,” Mr. Mapes said.

“That part is your part. You need to either get rid of him or scare him off. Icing him would be best. Otherwise, he could write an anonymous note to the cops, selling you down the river. Hell, you’ve aced someone before, haven’t you? That’s the best way to minimize the risk.”

It was a guess, but not a farfetched one. And I knew where to go if he said no.

He didn’t. “Yeah, but that was a long time ago and then I had to run.”

“Do it once, you can do it again. The big thing is, when can you get the videos? That’s all we need to get started. The sooner the better. You do know where they are.” I made it a statement rather than a question to be answered.

“Yeah. I’m the one who hid them. Only me and Morganstaller know.”

I’d wanted him to tell me where they were but decided I had enough. Finding the discs could come later. I honked the horn. Five cops came out from behind the trees where they’d been waiting. All were armed, and all their weapons were drawn. Mapes was too shocked even to move as they surrounded him. He was handcuffed. Meanwhile, Dan was on his way to the pastor’s front door. I checked, and the entire conversation with Mr. Mapes was audible, recorded on my phone. I didn’t really need to. The cops had used a long-range microphone to record it, too. Plus, Jaxon had witnessed it.

I felt the need to come clean. I’d orchestrated much of what had happened. It had been for a good cause, and had worked out fine, but I still felt a little guilty. I’d interfered in other people’s lives. I wasn’t looking for atonement, but wanted the secrets to be open, not kept locked inside of me.

So, I had another dinner at home where I could acknowledge my guilt. The main players were there: John, my bus-driving boss and friend; Dan and Roddy Meyers, brothers and the chief of police and the substitute bus driver; Dale Cummings, the town’s motel owner/manager; Clare Beal and Coop and Jaxon.

Everyone had drinks. I was hoping they’d put the adults in a loose and forgiving mood—especially that second part. We were sitting on the patio at dusk. It was a warm evening, and the yard lights made for an inviting, relaxed ambience.

“Thank you all for coming. I want to unburden myself, and you’re all going to be mentioned. My involvement in what’s just gone on in this town began when I picked up Jaxon here walking on the road to Ontagua when I was doing John a favor with an extra bus trip that night. I took to Jaxon right away; he’s an easy boy to like.”

Jaxon didn’t blush. He did nod, acknowledging he’d been mentioned and identifying himself to those who hadn’t met him.

“He had a problem; he’d been thrown out of his house for being gay, and I needed to find a place for him to stay. The easy answer to that would have been for him to move in with his boyfriend, Cooper Beal. The problem with that was Mr. Beal, Clare, didn’t know his son Coop was gay, or Jaxon either, and Coop was sure his dad hated gays because of the religious organization he was a member of.

“I enjoyed having Jaxon stay with me, but that couldn’t be a long term solution to his housing problem because I had already started planning trips I’d be taking to see America. I hadn’t given up on the idea of Jaxon living with the Beals. Coop had told me his dad liked Jaxon, so maybe Clare would make an exception for Jaxon being gay. I needed to find out just where Clare stood. Part of that, it seemed to me, was to first show him how valuable Jaxon was to him.

“I decided to do that in an emergency situation, which I’d create.”

Clare had been tipping his Old Fashioned to his lips when he heard that and actually sloshed a little of his drink taking a quick look at me. I grinned at him.

“Yeah, it was me. I had heard from Jaxon that you were having an audit, Clare, and I thought if you had a catastrophe at the store right when the audit was coming, I might have the opportunity both to show you what Jaxon was capable of and to get to know you a little better. By doing that, I figured I’d have a chance to feel you out on how you felt about gays without incriminating the boys. I had to have a way to engage you, and that seemed the most practical. And it worked a charm!”

“But you didn’t know when the audit would occur,” Clare protested. “How’d you know to cause the mess in the store at just the worst time for me?”

I pointed at Dale Cummings. “Dale runs the motel in town. He also has a son I helped get through high school with good enough grades to get into Missouri State University. I told him an IRS agent would be making reservations at the motel and asked him to let me know when. He did. A reservation was made for a week’s stay on a Sunday, and the man identified himself as an IRS agent. I guess they’re supposed to do that. Anyway, I arranged my summer party for the Saturday before that, then talked Roddy here into trashing your store without doing any real damage. The only damage done was to the lock on the back door. I’ll pay for that.”

“Why the party?” Dan asked.

“Because if Clare was the suspicious sort, he might think the trashing was done by someone who might benefit from it, and the person most likely to benefit was Jaxon. I helped make it clear how much Jaxon was helping during the clean up. I thought that might be enough to get Mr. Beal suspicious and so wanted to create alibis for all possible suspects. The party was perfect for that.”

“But Roddy was there,” Dan said.

“He also left to get more beer. He took Coop with him to help carry the cases. They weren’t gone long. Clearing those shelves and strewing the nuts and bolts took less time than you’d imagine. They were back at the party before they were missed. Jaxon was here all the time, here and visible and unaware.

“Anyway, wrecking the store worked even better than I’d planned. I got to know Clare and found out he had no problems with gays at all. That led to the rest of what happened, the arrest of Mr. Mapes and Mr. Morganstaller and the freeing from financial and emotional turmoil of seven citizens of this city. So, it turned out well, and solved a problem of mine and gave Jaxon what he needed in the process.”

Mr. Beal got up and walked to me and extended his hand. I rose and shook it. “You can screw with me all you want if it comes to an end like this,” he said—and laughed.

Clancy was excited. He’d never seen an elk before, and here was a herd of them. I slowed down so he could have a full viewing. His nose was pressed against the window, which was down just enough to keep him in the car. We weren’t due in Moose, Wyoming, till that evening, and a slow ride through Idaho was providing both of us with great sightseeing. Utah had been amazing, too. Incredible rock formations.

We’d flown to San Francisco, rented a car we’d drop off much later in the trip and already visited Yosemite and seen the redwoods—a truly awesome and moving experience—then Bryce and Zion in Utah. If anyone wants a humbling, perhaps almost spiritual journey, they can visit any of these. The views were stunning, and I was so happy to be able to be in these amazing places. Next would be Grand Teton National Park, and we were staying in Moose at the Moose Head Ranch.

I’d left the keys to my house with Jaxon. He and Coop would house-sit while I was away. Keep the place from looking empty. They’d been tickled by the suggestion. Well, Coop showed how much he was, blushing and giggling. Old stone-face Jaxon hadn’t shown a thing. But he’d taken the keys from me right sprightly.

Coop had been the one who’d figured out where the videos might be hidden. They’d been transferred to CDs and put in plastic covers with misidentified names. They thought they were being smart by using covers showing they were old time Hollywood musicals. Like Pal Joey and Kismet and The Band Wagon.

We’d found all seven videos and brought them to the county prosecutor. We’d made a deal with him: we’d arranged for the cops to play just enough of each to identify the people who were being blackmailed and no more than that. They had all agreed to testify, and their testimony would be enough. After that, the discs were given back to Mr. Beal, and he destroyed them. He used a brand-new hammer, then put it in a display box and mounted it in his store.

The trial was going to be later in the year. I would be back by then.

Clancy was a great traveling companion, and when we were out walking around, I ended up talking to a lot more people than I would have had I been alone. I’d been putting this off for years, and now was a time to relax and enjoy.

I wasn’t entirely isolated. Jaxon called me every few days. He said he missed me. He said he’d be happy when I was back. I guess he liked me being around, that my presence was reassuring. He said Coop was great, and he loved it that they were together, but somehow, being with me had been the first time in his life he’d ever felt like he had a safe and happy home.

Getting a call like that from Jaxon, a boy who almost never displayed any emotion, was special.

Damn, that made me feel good!

THE END