Mystery Money

Joey was returning the books he was perusing to the shelf at the library downtown. He noticed in his stack a thin, black leather-bound book. It had no information on the cover and he was not sure how it got into his pile. He did not recall anyone near him unless . . .

”Did someone plant that book for me to find?”

“Why me?”

He thought he should turn it in to the librarian, but what if he was really chosen. He opened the book to find a series of abbreviations and check marks. He could not figure out what it meant. Every few pages or so, at what appeared to be the end of a section, appeared a 10 digit code.

“Maybe a phone number,” Joey thought. “Should I call it? What might I be getting myself into? Could they find me? Have they already found me and set me up? Who are they?”

The curiosity got the better of him.

The next day before Joey clocked out of his stocking job at the department store, he decided to call the number from the book. He memorized the numbers so that he would not be seen with the book. He decided to tell no one so that no one he loved would be implicated.

He nervously dialed the number. Just after the second ring, someone answered.

Before Joey could even muster a greeting, a gruff voice on the other side of the conversation yelled, “What took you so long?” Before Joey could mumble out a reply, the voice added these instructions: “Dumpster behind Park Avenue Deli, 20 minutes.”

Joey thought for a moment. “Someone expects me to go very soon. Are they really waiting for me, or are they waiting for someone else? This is so weeknight TV drama.”

Joey, already in too deep, was on his way to Park Ave.

As best as he could and with no real skill, Joey tried to slide into the alley inconspicuously. No one was there. He looked near the dumpster to find what looked like a new backpack. Certainly, this is what he was intended to retrieve. He nonchalantly threw a strap over his shoulder and waited a moment.

Nothing happened.

He went home and sat on the couch across from the bag. He did not want to open it. He did not think that there was a bomb or anything, but he just was not sure what he would find or what would follow.

One agonizing hour later, he opened the bag. To his amazement, Joey saw bundles of cash. He took it to his bedroom so as not to be seen by his roommate with stacks of paper. He counted what ended up being $20,000. He knew something was not legit, but he was not sure what to do. He also really could use the cash. Who couldn’t?

Joey wracked his brain for what seemed like days. He replayed the details in the fog of his mind. He was excited and terrified. Would someone come after him now? How did he end up with the book? Does anyone even know that he is the one with the cash? Is it a trap?

He marked the time and the day. He rented a safe deposit box and decided that he would not touch the money for one month. He went about his normal routine.

Joey was back at the library. After his volunteer work with the kids, he was researching and perusing books as normal. He happened to notice a very intimidating man speaking to the librarian in intense, hushed tones. He caught the attention of several patrons as he leaned deep over the counter scrutinizing its contents for something. As the security guard approached the check-out desk, the astute librarian spoke with great fortitude assuring the man that no one had turned in a black book in the past week. The agitated man skirted off. Joey sat stunned.

Now that Joey realized the book was not intended for him and that someone was very obviously distraught by its disappearance, he was paranoid with fear. He did not know what to do. He went into hiding at his apartment for several days wondering if the crazy library man or someone worse would find him. Was it now time to contact the authorities?

Joey sat in anguish by his bed, weak from days of hiding out. Though afraid to look at his phone, for fear that it would ring or bear a message signaling his demise, he picked it up. His news feed showed a headline that a body was found in the alley by the Park Avenue Deli. The man was reportedly murdered elsewhere and then moved to the alley. When Joey scrolled down to see the image, he was pale with nausea to see what resembled the disgruntled man from the library.

For the next days, Joey was glued to the news wondering if he was next or if he was off the hook. Eventually, the details dwindled and Joey felt more comfortable in his surroundings. He decided that he would leave that money locked up for a year to the hour, just to be safe.