A Bad Predicament

Ben is in a tight spot in DAAG! Let’s find out what happens in…

Chapter Eighteen

Cliff reached into his overcoat and pulled out a folded stack of papers. “This shows everything Jed bet and won or lost.” He handed the papers to Ben. “As you can see, he usually lost.”

         Ben glanced at them. They looked legitimate. “I’ll have my lawyer look—”

         “Lawyer?” Cliff thrust the revolver into Ben’s neck. “No lawyers! No police! Do you understand, Thorne? We’re giving you forty-eight hours to come up with the cash. And if you don’t, ‘it ain’t gonna be pretty,’ as they say. Got it?”

         With the point of the gun pushing into his throat, Ben nodded. The gun eased away. He breathed out his relief.

         “Okay.” Cliff opened his door and got out.

         Monty and Ben exited on the other side, and Ben pulled his car keys from his suit pocket.

         Cliff grabbed them. “We’ll take the BMW as a down payment.”

         “Hey! Give me those keys!” Ben lunged toward Cliff, but he threw the keys to Monty.

         Cliff laughed. “Twenty thousand off your bill for the car.”

         “Twenty thousand?” Ben stared at him, pain forming a knot in his stomach. “This is nothing but car theft.”

         “Okay, forty. And that’s my final offer.”

         “You can not take my car.”

         “So we’ll take forty grand off your bill,” Cliff said, as if Ben had said nothing. “Now you owe us, uh, let’s see…thirty grand instead of seventy. Fair enough?”

         “No! I want my car back.”

         Monty started the engine. “Get in, Cliff. This thing really purrs.”

         Cliff opened the passenger door. “Forty-eight hours, Thorne, right here—with the thirty grand.” He dropped down to the seat as the car backed up.

         Ben jumped out of the way.

         Monty shifted gears and the BMW took off with a roar, racing down Main Street. Within a minute, silence pervaded the parking lot. The crickets took up their chirping, and lightning bugs flashed on and off among the tall weeds that grew near the wooden fence. 

         Ben’s shoulders sagged. Why had Dad been such a jerk? He looked up at the stars twinkling high above him. “Lord, why do I have to pay for the sins of my father? That’s not even scriptural.”

         With a sigh, he took out his cell phone. He knew he should call the sheriff, but he pressed Uncle Elliot’s number instead.

         “Hello?”

         “You won’t believe what just happened to me.” For the next few minutes, Ben related the details of the bookies and his stolen car to his uncle.

         “Cliff and Monty,” Elliot said when he finished. “Yeah, I know those two. Jed placed a lot of bets through them ’cause they’re so easy. They talk big, but they have the brains of a goldfish.”

“But what about the forty-eight hours? What about my car? Shouldn’t we call the sheriff to report a stolen vehicle?”

“Naw, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I know these guys.” He chuckled. “You can trust your old Uncle Elliot on this one.”

Ben wasn’t so sure.  

* * *

Until tomorrow, God bless!