1. A Little Place Called Heaven


    Date: 9/28/2015, Categories: Humor, Author: WritersFriend, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    It sounded easy, but wait till I tell you. Me and Jake O’Leary had just finished up a short-time bid for a bad-check beef at Warm Springs, a min-security bucket in Carson City, and through some scams we’d scraped together close to three thousand bucks, but we needed seven thou to buy into a major credit-card grift. We brainstormed and cogitated, trying to think of a way to top up our funds, and then Jake mentioned Benny Loomis, an inmate at Warm Springs who had recounted to us a scheme to snatch the wife of a minor despot in a little hick town down in southwest Nevada. The place was far off the radar of the state Highway Patrol, Benny said, and the county sheriff was “a lazy low-life Republican who don't give two good damns about nothin’, least of all humankind.” “The trick is to not be greedy,” Jake told me. “Keep the ransom low so the old miser can pay it out of petty cash rather than go to the trouble of getting the law involved.” His logic sounded questionable. “I don’t know, Jake,” I said. “It’s a big leap from running cons to kidnapping. If things go south we’ll be looking at hard time, and not in a cushy joint like Warm Springs.” “You got a better idea, Cap?” Jake said. I didn’t. So we bought an old junk-bucket Taurus, stole us a license plate, and set off south to scope out the deal. The place, it turned out, was the hottest hellhole this side of Death Valley and was called, of course, Heaven. The mark owned a small ranch on the outskirts of town where it appeared he ...
    cultivated cactus and tumbleweed. There was no hired help or security that we could see. According to Benny, the old skinflint had gotten rich by making sure that every pharmacy in his little chain had a bank of slot machines which the infirm could play while buying toilet tissue and waiting on their scrips. In town, me and Jake put on dark shades and ball caps and split up. We didn’t want to act all nosy and arouse suspicion, so the plan was to just linger around a few hotspots, check out the local citizenry, and see if the subject of the drug-store tycoon came up. Sure enough, at a diner around lunchtime, a couple of biddies at the table next to mine started clucking about Barnum Periwinkle and his spouse. “I hear he found her in that cathouse up in Mineral County,” one of the old blue-hairs said. “She was committing unspeakable acts of depravity. For money !” She spoke the word like it was the vilest thing on the planet, even worse than the despicable acts themselves. “Slut!” the second biddy muttered under her breath. The first grandma nodded her head. “I guess love truly is blind.” Her friend snorted out a laugh. “Love? The only thing that old whoremonger loves is money. And he’s got lots of that.” Benny’s tip looked solid. And the good residents of Heaven didn’t seem enamored of Barnum Periwinkle and his bride. Benny had told us about an abandoned prospector’s cabin out in the desert, in the middle of nowhere. An artesian well supplied plenty of water, and the place was ...
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