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A Little Place Called Heaven

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

each and Jake filled an old bucket with ice to put his foot in. There was a deep gouge in the instep and it had puffed up like a blowfish. We sat on a couple of straight-backed chairs where we could keep an eye on our guest, raised our masks up over our mouths, and sipped on our beers. Mrs. Periwinkle took off her hat and shook out her hair, and a storm of red fire licked at her face. She sat down on the cot in her short peach sundress and looked at us. “What now?” she said. “We wait for your old man to call,” Jake told her. “How much are you asking?” “That’s none of your business.” “If you ask for too much he won’t pay it.” “Let us worry about that.” “Can I have one of those beers?” Jake tilted his head back and looked at me from under his mask. It seemed like the humane thing to do. I grabbed a cold can out of the cooler and took it to her. “Thanks,” she said, batting long lashes over emerald-green eyes. I hoped she couldn’t see me gulp behind the mask. Around seven o’clock Barnum Periwinkle called. Jake put the phone on speaker. “Who is this?” Periwinkle asked, all bossy, like he was in charge. “Somebody who ain’t stupid enough to tell you,” Jake said. “You have my wife?” “Now you’re getting it.” “Fifteen thousand dollars is an awful lot of money.” “It’s chicken scratch and you know it.” There was a short pause, and then: “I don’t think you realize what you’re getting into.” “We’re big boys, Pops,” Jake said. “We’ll figure it out.” “It’ll take me a few days to put it ... together.” “We want it tomorrow night by seven.” “How about ten thousand?” Jake’s face turned red as a stoplight. “This ain’t a negotiating session, you old pecker-wad! Get the money or we’ll start sending bits of your wife to you, one piece at a time!” “Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do.” “Once you got the dough, call us back and I’ll tell you what happens next.” Jake killed the call. “Fifteen thousand?” Mrs. Periwinkle said from the other room. “You two really are losers, aren’t you?” “Stuff it, lady,” Jake said. “Did either of you Einsteins think to pick up my purse and shopping bag?” Jake’s face was still glowing like a lit-up jack o’lantern. “First off, lady, we ain’t no Nazis, we’re American patriots. If we’re gonna be civilized about this, we can’t be calling each other names. Second, why would I give you your purse? So you can pull a little pistol out of a hidden compartment?” Mrs. Periwinkle gave Jake a withering look. “I guess you must be Pinky, because you sure as hell aren’t the Brain. My makeup’s in my purse. And there was money in it.” Jake looked like a school kid berated by a bullying teacher for being the class dunce. He stammered for a bit, then said, “You don’t need no makeup. This is a kidnapping, not a beauty contest.” Mrs. Periwinkle glared at him. “If we’re going to be civilized about this, I need my makeup.” Jake looked at me from under his mask. I shrugged. “The purse’ll be gone by now,” I said. “I wouldn’t go back there anyhow. I’ll probably have to get ...