But Nobody Wants To Die by David M George

Author:David M George [George, David M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTY

PLAN B

W hen we got back to Carlos’ apartment, I called Dad’s old friend at LVPD, while Carlos and Melinda returned the rental to Enterprise. I didn’t want to muddy the waters, so I didn’t say anything about Dad being missing. I just told him that Dad asked me to call to ask for a favor while he went to the gym.

Dad’s friend agreed to run the plates and said he would let me know what he found out. I gave him my cell phone number and we said our goodbyes.

When Carlos got home he said he needed to make a call of his own. There was an old Navy SEAL buddy he wanted to talk to.

He went into the bedroom to make the call. When he came out thirty minutes later he said we have a meeting set up for tomorrow morning at 0800.

“Please don’t tell me it’s at Denny’s,” I said.

He smiled, “No, Mitch wants to meet at the park, third bench north of the tennis courts,” he said.

Dinner consisted of the sandwiches we made for our stakeout. Afterwards, we decided to call it a day and went to bed early. Carlos said he would knock on our door at 0630.

The next morning Melinda decided she wanted to sleep in, so Carlos and I just had some fruit for breakfast and then drove to our meeting place at the park off Lincoln Drive.

“So what can you tell me about Mitch?” I said.

“He’s a few years older than me, divorced, no kids. We were together in Afghanistan. After he got out he went to Refrigeration school here in Las Vegas. He now owns his own heating and cooling company. He’s what you would call, resourceful, meaning he has a keen awareness of how the world works and how to get things. In our unit he was known as the, ‘Procurement Officer.’ His specialty was forging documents, which was how most of our unit obtained R&R in Thailand. He has some PTSD issues. Other than that, I’ll let you form your own opinion.”

Mitch at it turned out, did meet us at the third bench north of the tennis courts. He was a larger version of Carlos, but looked a lot older, gray around the temples, with a scruffy salt and pepper beard and fidgety, high strung, a bomb ready to go off. He wore a yellow t-shirt with, ‘Mitch’s Heating and Cooling,’ embroidered across the front.

Carlos made the necessary introductions and Mitch just nodded. We sat on the bench and Mitch took another look around. When he was satisfied we were alone, he started speaking in what I thought of as a Midwestern drawl on fast forward,

“I made a few calls after we talked last night. Here’s what I came up with. I’ll run it by you, see what you think. My uncle is a Captain with the Las Vegas Fire Department. He commands station #13 about 8 miles away from the warehouse. He owes me $12,000. This is Las Vegas right? He likes to gamble.

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