Chapter 29
Dale was sitting at his large, round, oak kitchen table, eating a bowl of Manhattan-style clam chowder soup for lunch when his cell phone rang. It was Gerald. He accidentally knocked over the dill-weed spice bottle while answering the call.
“Hello Dale.” It’s showtime! Buckle up. Here we go.
“Hello boss. How did it go with David? Did he buy the whole car for a nice price?” Remember, play dumb. / Yeah, right.
“No, he only bought the trunk door.” Imagine that.
“Oh, wow. What could have changed his mind, boss?” Dale was testing the waters. Gerald was already enraged. The removal of the gold from trunk, you coy fucking asshole!
“Maybe something was missing,” Gerald sternly announced. Dale could hear Gerald’s teeth gnashing. Oh, boy.
“One sec, boss. The water on the stove is boiling.” Oh, shit! Did David tell him that there was gold in that trunk five hours ago? No, he’s not that stupid. That would be a no-winner for him. Well, maybe Gerald would give him a reward for being honest. But, would he really believe him? I doubt it. I bet that David still has designs on trying to get all of the gold for himself. I’ve obviously still got to watch out for him. Wait, did Gerald know that there was gold in the trunk before David arrived? That makes no sense, either. If he knew that there was gold in that wrecked car’s trunk, he never would’ve entertained a possible sale of the whole car. Heck, Gerald would have removed that gold long before David discovered it. He wouldn’t have left it in there for more than an hour. And, no way would he let those gold nuggets sit in there overnight on that lot. Even with the dogs, he loses car parts monthly to nighttime thieves. No, Gerald must just sense that something of high value was in the trunk.
After a long, uneasy pause, Dale muttered, “Maybe so.” Ok, here we go. / Maybe? The worthless lying mother-fucker!
“I think that you know what was missing, Dale. You took it, didn’t you?” How in the world does he know that I took the gold out of the trunk? How? Did David really come clean and tell Gerald that there was a shitload of gold in the trunk of that white Ford Focus, and that’s why he wanted to buy the whole car? Would David really tell Gerald that? I just can’t imagine him doing that. No way.
“Took what?” So, the moment of truth has arrived.
“The fucking GOLD, you bastard! How much was there? Stop lying to me, you fucking thief!” Gerald was shouting with an incendiary rage. Oh my God, David did tell him! They’re both working against me now as a team. I guess they plan to split it if they ever get their greedy hands on it. Good luck with that, fellas. Neither one of you will ever find it. But, why is he asking me ‘how much’? Did David not give him an estimate? Maybe Gerald does not trust the amount that David told him.
Dale tried to recompose himself. “Gold? There was gold in that white Ford Focus? You must be kidding me, boss.” Dale stammered out the syllables, trying his best to sound like he was shocked and completely oblivious to the whole scenario. That dumb-ass is just playing dumb. I’ll show him.
“Stop it! Just freaking stop it! Stop it right now! Stop lying to me, Dale, and start listening to me. Listen closely to me. I know that the value of the gold must be at least ten thousand dollars. And that’s the rock-bottom minimum. My guess is that its worth is over fifty thousand dollars, maybe considerably more by the way David was acting, and by the way you are acting right now!” Ah, so David didn’t tell him how much gold was in that trunk; he didn’t even give him a ballpark figure. That’s kind of strange. Gerald really has no idea that the gold’s value is over a million dollars.
“Ok, I’m listening, boss.” I could care less what he says.
Gerald continued. “Listen, Dale, we can split it. You can have sixty percent.” He wants to cut a deal with me? A three-way deal, including David? He’ll take just twenty percent? Totally bizarre. And totally unbelievable. This is confusing as hell. But, ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Just meaningless spoken words. / He better wise up and do what I say.
“How much of a cut will you and David get?” Let’s just play along and see what he divulges.
“David will get nothing! Not a fucking dime!” What?! Nothing for David? Such loyalty and sharing among thieves. / How stupid is he? Why should I give David anything?
“Will David come after us, boss?” Dale asked, feigning interest in Gerald’s proposal. If he does, I’ll frame you, Dale.
“Hell no. He’s out of the picture now.” Did Gerald already kill David and hide his body? Buried under a wrecked car?
“Oh, really?” Just hear his ludicrous plan out.
“Listen, listen, listen. I can get it sold for us. I know the right people; you don’t. You’ll get questioned and busted trying to sell it.” Bullshit, boss!
“Oh.”
“Listen to me, Dale, and listen closely. With me, you’ll get clean, crisp, untraceable cash.” And a bullet in the back of my head.
“Ok …”
“You’ll have no worries. None whatsoever.” Yeah, right, boss. I’m just so sure that I can trust you.
Dale tried to audibly mask his complete non-interest in Gerald’s proposal. He continued to play along. “Boss, are you sure about that? It sounds so risky. I don’t want you to go to jail. Do you really trust these people? How well do you know them?” Just stop already, you idiot.
“Listen, please fucking listen to me. I will take the goddam risk. All of it. I know how to do this. Don’t worry about me.” Believe me, I wasn’t.
Dale paused for a moment. I need to throw him a test question – something that will elicit an answer indicating if he knows the type of gold I have. He coughed and then asked his ingenious ruse-of-a-question:
“Boss, can they buy all twelve gold class rings at one time?”
“I found gold flakes in the trunk underneath the spare tire. I know it’s not a dozen fourteen-carat class rings, you fucking wiseacre!” Ah-ha! Muchas gracias for that information, Gerald. You have no idea of how much gold I have, nor do you know the shape or form of it … and you never will, boss-ass.
Dale hung up the phone. He had got what he wanted. And Gerald did, too, to a lesser degree.