The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [79]
“So I sent Fred in. And I knew that if I gave him a story where he’d need constant protection, you’d keep him close. Close enough to get all the information I’d need to wipe you out. Because that’s one thing my deadbeat father actually taught me. He taught me: keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And sure enough, it didn’t take long for me to know everything. The money was just a bonus. Once Fred told me about your Emergency Fund, it became all about getting that first. Once Fred told me about your argument with your friend, I saw my chance both to get the money and finish you off in one move. I could have wiped you out in just a few days had I really wanted to.”
I saw Fred looking at the floor, appearing more sheepish than ever. Staples laughed. He sounded like a maniac.
“I tried to warn you to just back off, too. I sent you so many warnings. At first I was only trying to make sure that you stayed out of my way, but no, you kept on pushing. You didn’t mind your own business and then you forced me to take you out. You’re such a stubborn little pest, trying to play gangster like it’s some game.”
I thought about what he said. It didn’t really add up. He had been trying to take me out from the beginning. He had just told me so. He only delayed and sent warnings to keep me off his back long enough to give Fred a chance to steal my money. No, he was trying to turn the tables and make me doubt myself.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Christian; you kept bringing it on yourself.”
“No. This was your fault, Barry, not mine. I’m not the one with a dirty business. I make my money by providing a service, not by cheating kids. Plus, you did want to hurt me. How else can you explain sending Willis and that other kid after me, or trying to kill me with your car? You’re jealous, aren’t you? That’s why you’ve had it out for me from the beginning. You’re jealous that I have a business that works without cheating, that some little kid can run a smoother, more profitable business than you. And you’re jealous that I have a dad who’s not some drunken deadbeat slob.”
Staples shook his head. He seemed at a loss for words. Finally he said, “No, Christian, you’re wrong!” His teeth were pressed together and spit flew from his mouth when he talked.
That’s when my phone rang. All three of us looked at it as it sat in my hand.
“Excuse me,” I said, and flipped the phone open.
“Hey, Mac! We got it, all of it. It worked perfectly,” Vince’s voice said. He sounded as excited as I’d ever heard him.
“Good,” I said, and smiled at Staples. He did not smile back.
“We got almost all of our money back. It was in a lockbox under the floorboards, right where Tyrell knew to look. And we got documents and business records and all kinds of incriminating stuff, too. How are things there?” Vince said.
“Good. Hang on a minute, Vince,” I said.
“What? What?” Staples said. He sounded menacing, but he looked worried.
“They got it,” I said. “They got it all. They even found my money under the floorboards.”
That’s when Staples moved like lightning. He stepped forward and smacked the phone right out of my hand. It smashed into the concrete wall and clattered onto the floor in several pieces. I backed up, but I had nowhere to go.
“What are you doing? They’ll call the cops!” I said.
But I wasn’t sure if they actually would. We never actually thought it would come to that.
“You really think the cops will care about some kid taking bets?” Staples said.
“They will when the perp has