Extra Cash, Extra Trouble

Darren sat at the small table in his kitchen staring at the paper take out bag from The Cork. He found it on his enclosed front porch, apparently stuffed through the package slot he had built himself when he first bought the small home on Oak St. He thought it odd since he hadn’t ordered food from the pub and he was sure they were closed on Sundays. He had brought it in and set it on the table while he fixed a cup of coffee. He popped an English muffin in the toaster oven and opened the bag, barely recognizing that it didn’t feel warm with food. His eyes never leaving the bag, he pulled out one of the wobbly chairs and sat down. It contained two straps of $100.00 bills. Someone had left $20,000.00 on his porch. It had to be a mistake. The toaster oven bell rang and startled Darren out of his hazed thoughts.

Darren stood, pulled the English muffin from the toaster, slathered on butter followed by strawberry jam, and returned to the table. He took a few bites of one half of the muffin before pulling the bag closer and looking inside it again. Just because the wrap says one hundred, doesn’t mean all the bills are hundreds, He thought. He didn’t want to touch the cash. The only thing he was certain of was that it was not meant for him.

He had options. He could call the police and hand the money over. He could hold on to the cash and wait to see if anyone returned to collect it. The most tempting option was to stash it away and pretend he never found it, wait for some amount of time – how long he wasn’t sure – and then he could spend it on whatever he wanted. He’d probably buy a new car. It would probably be bare bones, but it would be new and have a warranty. He needed a reliable car. He knew the problem with keeping it would be that whomever left it would not believe he didn’t have it. It wouldn’t matter how long he waited to spend it, if they gave him any time at all. The police was probably a bad option, as well. What if the officers who collected it were bad cops? He supposed he could take it to the DPD on Wayne. Let Dayton PD deal with it, he thought. Of course, it was likely that it wouldn’t protect him from someone expecting him to get the money back or pay it back in some way.

The doorbell startled Darren. “Shit,” he said. He grabbed the bag as he stood from the table and tossed it in the cabinet above the fridge. Maybe it was them, whoever they were, coming back to get their cash. He would gladly hand it over. He peaked out the long floor to ceiling window alongside the front door to see who had rung. It was his neighbor Stephie. He let out a sigh, opened the door, and stepped on to the porch.

“Hey, Darren,” Stephie said.

“Hey, what’s up?” Darren said as he opened the louvered porch door.

“Me and Angie are planning a trip to Cumberland Lake and wanted to know if you could feed the kitties for us,” Stephie said.

“Sure,” Darren said. “When?”

“Friday morning,” Stephie said. “We’ll be gone a week.”

“Yeah, just drop off the key,” Darren said. He had proven trustworthy to his neighbors with the care of their two Siamese, Kodo and Podo, named for the ferrets in the movie Beastmaster. He nodded with a smirk.

“So awesome,” Stephie said, “Thank you!”

“No worries,” Darren said. He started to turn to go back inside when Stephie grabbed his wrist.

“You got a minute?” Stephie said.

“Ah… I usually would, Steph,” Darren said, “but I need to run out to Beavercreek to give a quote and I’m running a little behind. I’m gonna have to skip the full shower.” He chuckled. It was fake, but he thought it sounded natural.

“Oh,” Stephie said. He could hear the disappointment. “Well, when you’re back then?”

“Yeah,” Darren said, “You OK?” He was starting to feel guilty.

“All good,” Stephie said, “I just need an objective ear.”

“Fair enough.” Darren said.

“See you when you get back,” Stephie said.

“Absolutely, we can chat then,” Darren said.

Stephie turned around and walked across the lawn to her house. Darren stood and watched until she was inside. Something was up with her, but all he wanted to do was count the cash in the bag to confirm he had $20,000.00 plop in his lap.

#

Bud Murphy and Donny Miller had one more stop to make when they decided to grab some Denny’s. It was more Donny’s decision, but when you’re the boss’s kid, no one questions. Both men ordered the Grand Slam and black coffee. Neither cared much for the other and didn’t bother to hide it. They ate in silence having long exhausted their tolerance of small talk for the day. They also wanted to keep their game faces. The next stop was a collection from a guy two weeks behind. Don Sr. had told them to make sure they get their point across that he had 2 days to pay. When you borrow money from Donald Miller, a pandemic is not a reasonable excuse not to pay. This was especially true since it seemed they were through the worst of it. The Governor had even lifted the mask mandate. Bud and Donny had already discussed the how they would instill this message upon one Matt Smith, handyman extraordinaire. Matt had borrows startup cash to get his service business off the ground. His uncle put him in touch with Johnny Mac (short for McDonell) who would cover high risk loans. Johnny worked for Don Sr. who was put in charge of certain interests in Dayton, Oh. When Johnny experienced an unfortunate accident involving Huffman Dam, all debts owed him were not owed to Don Sr.

“So, just fingers, right?” Bud said.

Donny stared at him a few seconds and said, “Yeah, left hand, all of ‘em.”

“Gonna make it obvious, ain’t it?” Bud said.

“To who?” Donny said.

“I dunno,” Bud said, “just thinking out loud. It was too quiet.”

Donny just stared. He sopped up runny egg yolk with a piece of white toast. He hoped Bud would let it drop when Donny’s cell rang. He picked it up and checked the ID. “Shit,” he said.

“Who?” Bud said.

Donny held up a hand and answered, “Yeah, pop?” He was quiet a moment. Bud could hear the boss man yelling in the phone. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, pop, what are you talking about? 728 Oak. No, I don’t think it was blue.”

Bud heard Big Don’s voice clear as day. “Blue, you moron! 726 Oak, blue house!” Big Don said.

“Shit, pop,” Donny said. “We’ll go sort it out right now.” There was more yelling, but Bud couldn’t make it out then Donny said, “OK. I got it.” He put the cell in his jacket pocket.

“We got the wrong house?” Bud said.

“Yeah, we gotta go,” Donny said. He grabbed the ticket, threw on his jacket and went to pay the bill.

Bud stood up, putting on his jacket and wondered how much heat he would end up taking over Donny’s screw up. He tried to tell Donny it was 726, the house next door. He even told Donny he was certain Sr. had said it was a blue house with an enclosed porch. As usual, Donny didn’t listen. As usual, when they got back to the Cork that he would take the brunt of the blame for Donny’s stupidity. He was getting tired of carrying the boss’s kid.

#

Stacks of hundreds were lined across the dinette table. Darren couldn’t believe it. He was staring at his gloved hands. He decided he didn’t want to touch the cash with his bare hands and put on a pair of the nitrile gloves he used when tattooing. 20k could get me a car and then some, he thought. He started grabbing stacks and placing them back in the paper bag. He would hold on to the money for a while, maybe long enough that whomever dropped it on his porch would come get it. He’d ask no questions. Just hand the money over, he thought. No need to get yourself beat or worse. The last thought stopped him. This much money, they were likely to come back today.

Darren decided he would put the bag back on the porch. When someone returned to collect their mistaken delivery, he would answer the door, unlock the porch door and claim he didn’t even notice the bag on his porch. Maybe they would buy it and just collect the bag and go. He knew they would look in the bag, though. They would see the cash was no longer in two bundles. He already tore the wrap on both so he couldn’t put that cat back in the bag. He would have to hope they didn’t look. It would make them suspicious of Darren. Sure he thought, They would say they delivered food there by accident and just take the bag.

He decided he would just leave it as it is and put the bag on the porch. He would talk his way around it if they did look in the bag. He saw money, counted, but that alone probably wouldn’t be reason for them to do anything to him. I hope so, he thought. He reached the front door and pulled it open. Just as he stepped onto the porch he noticed two men had just approached the porch door. He also knew it was unlocked. His stomach flipped. He recognized Donny Miller, jr. Most people knew who he was, especially if they frequented the Cork for a triple stout. Darren didn’t recognize the other man. He was huge. The words brick and shithouse came to mind. The man was the stereotype of hired muscle from action and gangster movies.

Donny was holding a small black notebook. He flipped it open and said, “Good afternoon, sir, this is Detective Murphy and I’m detective Jones.”

Play it cool, buddy, Darren thought. “What can do for you?” Darren said.

Darren saw Donny look at the bag. The big guy going by “Murphy” kept his gaze fixed on Darren’s face. “Whatcha got there,” Donny said. Then he looked back at Murphy and said, “Looks like that sack we been tryin’ to track down.”

“Sure does,” Murphy said. His voice was more like a growl.

“Oh thank, God,” Darren said, “I had no idea what to do with this. I came out this morning and found it on my porch. I was about to drive over to the precinct, but I guess I can just give it to you guys.”

Donny pulled the porch door open and stepped inside. “So you looked in it then?” He said.

“Yes, sir,” Darren said. “There is 20 k in here, sir. I don’t know who brought it or why.”

“You counted the money?” Murphy said.

“Yes, sir,” Darren said.

Donny pulled a gun and poked it into Darren’s gut, pushing him back into the house. “Let’s have a chat,” He said.

Inside the house, the men stood over Darren who sat on the couch. Donny was counting the money while Murphy gave Darren the death stare.

“All here,” Donny said.

“Now what?” Murphy said.

“We leave,” Donny said.

Darren let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll not mention this to anyone Mr. Miller.”

Murphy glanced at Donny who just nodded. He turned his attention back to Darren, pointed a silenced 9mm and pulled the trigger.

Donny pulled out his little black book and made a note. “Well, now we got two stops left,” he said.