Right on the money

As they pulled into the parking lot the sign over reception said it all. The Weary Traveller Motel. It wasn’t promising.
Getting out of the car, Tom said: “Is this what you’re trying to get us into?”
“Aw c’mon, soldier. It’s a brilliant opportunity. Forty-four room motel just off I-19. Been closed for a while. Going cheap. Spend some money on it and we’ll clean up.”Pictures Love Words FG7
“It sure needs a clean up. I’ve seen better in Kabul.”
“Yeah, yeah. But this is Arizona, man, not Afghanistan. Fifty miles south of Tucson. Perfect for people needing a break. C’mon, let’s take a look at one or two of the rooms. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
There never was an end to Joe’s enthusiasm.
They got to room thirty-nine before the handle turned and the door opened onto a dark, gloomy space smelling of stale tobacco smoke and cheap perfume.
“This is terrible”, Tom said. “If they’re all like this …”
“I’m gonna check the last five. See if any of them are open.”
A moment later, Joe returned.
“Rest of them all locked, just like the others.”
“So why is this the only one open?”
“Dunno. Let’s take a closer look.”
Just enough light
With the door wide open, there was just enough light to make out a large bed, a TV, a picture of the Rockies on one wall and a nondescript prairie scene on another, an easy chair, a simple closet and a chest of drawers.
Stepping into the bathroom, Tom opened the cupboard under the washbowl.
“Whoa”, he whispered. “What’ve we got here?”
Pulling out a battered holdall, he took it into the room where Joe was going through the chest of drawers.
Dumping the holdall on the bed, he opened the zip.
Turning, Joe let out a low whistle. “Jesus Christ! Will ya take a look at that?”
As they up-ended the bag, wads of dollar bills cascaded onto the chenille coverlet.
They stood there staring at the pile of cash until Tom said: “Must be a hundred thousand. Maybe more.”
Joe could hardly speak. “What the hell’s it doin’ here?”, he whispered.
“I don’t know”, said Tom. “All I know is, possession is nine tenths of the law and finders keepers. And I think we should put it back in the bag and get out of here, fast.”
Leaving the room just as they’d found it, they made their way back to the car. There was no one about. No one had seen them.
As Joe gunned the engine, Tom said: “Not a word to anyone, right? Not even Becky. I’ll keep my mouth shut. You do the same, OK?”
Joe nodded.
A couple of days later, Tom spotted an item in the local paper. The Weary Traveller had been trashed. The police suspected it might be a drug-related act of revenge. Someone hadn’t found what they were looking for. But he and Joe had.
Sitting in their favourite bar a week or so later, Tom said: “You know what we should do with the money?”
“Nope. You tell me.”
“Open a parking lot on the edge of town. Charge by the hour and the day. Clean up big time.”
“Hey”, said Joe. “No sheets to launder!”
“And I reckon we should call it … The Last Chance Parking Lot.”
“Soldier, you always were right on the money!”

Tagged , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: