Nathan Battle was holding more money than he’d ever seen in one place. Hell…it was probably more money than he’d ever seen in his life!
Staring at the money with an open mouth and wide eyes, he sat down hard on the damp steep grassy slope that adjoined the highway. Shaking his head in disbelief, he glanced over at the bloody man lying near the wrecked car and clutching a .45 automatic pistol – Nathan knew he had to make a decision and had to make it fast.
_________________________________________________________
It was late summer 1962. Only a few minutes ago he’d been in his car, headed up Highway 70/79 toward his brother’s house and looking for a place to pee. Just somewhere next to the road where he could stop for a moment, relieve himself and be on his way; somewhere along the dark, deserted highway.
~
The fight with his wife, Susan, had been one of their worst and started over the usual subject, money. This one began loud and then got louder and uglier as they screamed and shouted at each other. Nathan had had enough; he grabbed the car keys, stormed out of the house and headed to his favorite bar – The Wet Spot.
Too many beers later Nathan decided he wasn’t going back to his apartment, back to the constant arguments with Susan about money – she could go to hell. He’d get out of town, away from the fighting; go visit his brother, Evan, for a few days and get his head straight. No need to call ahead because Nathan and Evan were close, like brothers, should be. Besides, Evan didn’t have a phone anyway so what did it matter. Evan lived only 80 miles from Memphis in a small town named Humboldt. Evan would be glad to see him; and if he hurried, he could be there before dark.
The beer finally caught up with Nathan about 30 miles from Humboldt while driving across the narrow levee road that traveled through the Hatchie River Bottom. There was no traffic, the road was dark, empty and he needed to relieve himself. After pulling his car off the highway onto the small gravel shoulder next to a bridge, Nathan walked partway down the steep slope that adjoined the road and led underneath the bridge. He figured to just get out of sight in case someone happened along; but in reality, he was just trying to be nice and could care less whether someone saw him or not. The night breeze was fresh from a recent light rain, and he’d forgotten how nice it was to breathe air without all the pollutants offered by a big city.
“Put it up and zip it up,” Nathan heard a weak voice in the darkness and from somewhere very close behind him. “And don’t turn around.”
Nathan turned around.
Standing only inches from him was a short, stocky man in a wet, ruffled suit. His face was unrecognizable, not so much from the fading light, but because it was covered with blood! He was holding a large briefcase in his left hand and a .45 automatic in his right – the .45 automatic was pointed directly at Nathan’s head.
“Are you…are you hurt?” Nathan asked, ignoring the gun and looking at the man’s bloody face.
“Give me…give me the keys to your car,” the man stuttered.
“What?” Nathan was having difficulty understanding the man. His words were unclear, maybe because of his injuries, but maybe because his speech had a heavy accent and not one Nathan was accustomed to hearing.
“Give me your damn car keys,” the man said with slurred words, and then wiggled his automatic weapon to make sure he had Nathan’s attention. “I’m not going to ask again.”
Over the man’s shoulder, Nathan could see the problem. At the bottom of the grade was an overturned car with steam rolling from the engine compartment, then slowly creeping across the wet grass and up toward the highway – spoiling the fresh night air with a pungent smell of raw gasoline and hot radiator fluid. It was evident that the accident had just happened, and apparently, this man had been driving or a passenger in the car when it turned over.
“But…but mister you’re hurt,” Nathan said nervously. “Come with me, and I’ll get you some help.”
“I don’t want help, and I didn’t ask for help.” The man pulled the hammer back on the .45 and pushed it closer to Nathan’s face.
It could have been fear, or it could have been the beer, but instinct took over, and Nathan reacted, striking the injured man on his left jaw – sending him tumbling back down the slope and toward the smoking wreckage below. He rolled once before releasing the grip on the briefcase, but was still holding the gun when he landed with a loud ‘grunt’ next to the rear tire – the man didn’t move.
Turning to run, Nathan stopped after taking a couple of steps. Maybe the guy was dead, but pointing a gun at him was the wrong thing for the man to do. Army training had paid off; striking the man was just a reaction – a reaction he was trained for. But he should help, even if the man had threatened him. Perhaps the man had a head injury and wasn’t aware of what he was doing. After all, there had been an accident. He should check on the man’s injuries, it was the right thing to do.
Walking carefully down the slope, Nathan paused at the large brown briefcase lying near the man’s feet. Perhaps there would be some identification in the case, and he wouldn’t need to fumble through the man’s pockets. If he was dead…well…then…he was dead. But, Nathan had no desire to touch him unless it was necessary.
Staring at the money with an open mouth and wide eyes, he sat down hard on the damp steep grassy slope that adjoined the highway. Shaking his head in disbelief, he glanced over at the bloody man lying near the wrecked car and clutching a .45 automatic pistol – Nathan knew he had to make a decision and had to make it fast.
_________________________________________________________
It was late summer 1962. Only a few minutes ago he’d been in his car, headed up Highway 70/79 toward his brother’s house and looking for a place to pee. Just somewhere next to the road where he could stop for a moment, relieve himself and be on his way; somewhere along the dark, deserted highway.
~
The fight with his wife, Susan, had been one of their worst and started over the usual subject, money. This one began loud and then got louder and uglier as they screamed and shouted at each other. Nathan had had enough; he grabbed the car keys, stormed out of the house and headed to his favorite bar – The Wet Spot.
Too many beers later Nathan decided he wasn’t going back to his apartment, back to the constant arguments with Susan about money – she could go to hell. He’d get out of town, away from the fighting; go visit his brother, Evan, for a few days and get his head straight. No need to call ahead because Nathan and Evan were close, like brothers, should be. Besides, Evan didn’t have a phone anyway so what did it matter. Evan lived only 80 miles from Memphis in a small town named Humboldt. Evan would be glad to see him; and if he hurried, he could be there before dark.
The beer finally caught up with Nathan about 30 miles from Humboldt while driving across the narrow levee road that traveled through the Hatchie River Bottom. There was no traffic, the road was dark, empty and he needed to relieve himself. After pulling his car off the highway onto the small gravel shoulder next to a bridge, Nathan walked partway down the steep slope that adjoined the road and led underneath the bridge. He figured to just get out of sight in case someone happened along; but in reality, he was just trying to be nice and could care less whether someone saw him or not. The night breeze was fresh from a recent light rain, and he’d forgotten how nice it was to breathe air without all the pollutants offered by a big city.
“Put it up and zip it up,” Nathan heard a weak voice in the darkness and from somewhere very close behind him. “And don’t turn around.”
Nathan turned around.
Standing only inches from him was a short, stocky man in a wet, ruffled suit. His face was unrecognizable, not so much from the fading light, but because it was covered with blood! He was holding a large briefcase in his left hand and a .45 automatic in his right – the .45 automatic was pointed directly at Nathan’s head.
“Are you…are you hurt?” Nathan asked, ignoring the gun and looking at the man’s bloody face.
“Give me…give me the keys to your car,” the man stuttered.
“What?” Nathan was having difficulty understanding the man. His words were unclear, maybe because of his injuries, but maybe because his speech had a heavy accent and not one Nathan was accustomed to hearing.
“Give me your damn car keys,” the man said with slurred words, and then wiggled his automatic weapon to make sure he had Nathan’s attention. “I’m not going to ask again.”
Over the man’s shoulder, Nathan could see the problem. At the bottom of the grade was an overturned car with steam rolling from the engine compartment, then slowly creeping across the wet grass and up toward the highway – spoiling the fresh night air with a pungent smell of raw gasoline and hot radiator fluid. It was evident that the accident had just happened, and apparently, this man had been driving or a passenger in the car when it turned over.
“But…but mister you’re hurt,” Nathan said nervously. “Come with me, and I’ll get you some help.”
“I don’t want help, and I didn’t ask for help.” The man pulled the hammer back on the .45 and pushed it closer to Nathan’s face.
It could have been fear, or it could have been the beer, but instinct took over, and Nathan reacted, striking the injured man on his left jaw – sending him tumbling back down the slope and toward the smoking wreckage below. He rolled once before releasing the grip on the briefcase, but was still holding the gun when he landed with a loud ‘grunt’ next to the rear tire – the man didn’t move.
Turning to run, Nathan stopped after taking a couple of steps. Maybe the guy was dead, but pointing a gun at him was the wrong thing for the man to do. Army training had paid off; striking the man was just a reaction – a reaction he was trained for. But he should help, even if the man had threatened him. Perhaps the man had a head injury and wasn’t aware of what he was doing. After all, there had been an accident. He should check on the man’s injuries, it was the right thing to do.
Walking carefully down the slope, Nathan paused at the large brown briefcase lying near the man’s feet. Perhaps there would be some identification in the case, and he wouldn’t need to fumble through the man’s pockets. If he was dead…well…then…he was dead. But, Nathan had no desire to touch him unless it was necessary.
The briefcase was completely full of bundled money, mostly one hundred dollar bills. Nathan could only guess at how much money was in the briefcase, but it was damn sure enough to solve his problems with Susan and keep them both comfortable for a long time. For Nathan, the decision was an easy one.
Ignoring what was in front of him, he grabbed the briefcase and turned away from the bleeding man and smoldering wreckage lying under the bridge. His only thoughts were with the briefcase, the money. He would be in his car and gone in less than a minute; holding enough money to solve all his problems for the rest of his life. Even if the man wasn’t dead, he didn’t know Nathan or anything about him; and if he was dead…well, then he was just dead.
It should have been heavy, but adrenalin rush from seeing that much money made the case as light as a feather. In less than half a minute he had scurried up the slope, tossed it into the backseat of his car and opened the driver’s side door. Nathan had just started to get behind the wheel when he saw an unbelievable nightmare coming down the dark highway and rushing toward him.
Ignoring what was in front of him, he grabbed the briefcase and turned away from the bleeding man and smoldering wreckage lying under the bridge. His only thoughts were with the briefcase, the money. He would be in his car and gone in less than a minute; holding enough money to solve all his problems for the rest of his life. Even if the man wasn’t dead, he didn’t know Nathan or anything about him; and if he was dead…well, then he was just dead.
It should have been heavy, but adrenalin rush from seeing that much money made the case as light as a feather. In less than half a minute he had scurried up the slope, tossed it into the backseat of his car and opened the driver’s side door. Nathan had just started to get behind the wheel when he saw an unbelievable nightmare coming down the dark highway and rushing toward him.
You can find “Deadly Decision”
(Carson Reno Mystery Series – Book 15)
by Gerald W. Darnell at:
Amazon – FREE on Kindle Unlimited
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