chapter 9
WALTER AND HIS crew celebrated their success with fine food, wine, and a few cocktails at Café Ritz in downtown West Point. On their limited budgets prior to the robbery, they had rarely dined at a place like the Ritz, although it was only two doors down from their hotel home.
Walter made a point of explaining that this would not be a frequent event but that once a month they would have a foundation meeting, which would involve breaking bread. The foundation would cover the expenses, of course. “Might as well be fine food,” he added with a sly grin. That news excited everyone.
“I think we have our attorney,” Walter advised as he sampled a crab cake appetizer. “Should know tomorrow.”
“What’s our next step?” Bernard asked, shifting his weight and wishing he’d brought his hemorrhoid cushion.
Walter looked around the dining area to make certain no one could hear them and then answered, “Basically, we’ll have a little over a hundred grand after we pay the retainer to Sam.”
Everybody smiled, and Walter rubbed his forehead. “It’s a really good start, but we need more to help more folks if we want it to be self-perpetuating one day.”
After a moment’s pause to look at one of several old movie posters decorating the wall above Walter, Sebastian asked, “How much do you think we need?” He then took a loud sip of red wine.
“About six hundred and fifty thousand more,” Walter said emphatically.
Everybody grunted at once. That was a hell of a lot of money. More than any of them had ever seen…or could collectively imagine.
“That’s more than you originally thought. Almost twice as much,” Sebastian said with some concern.
“I know. But after talking with Sam, it’s clear to me that being well funded is the key to the foundation’s success. We need three-quarters of a million dollars,” Walter said in a low voice. “And we can’t do it robbing Krogers. It won’t work again. I have something in mind, though.” Walter had initially believed it would take them at least two years to raise the additional seed money. Now, he had a new plan—one that could net them about half the entire amount in one fell swoop.
Not fully understanding what was in his future, Bernard was relieved. The stress of the responsibilities to pull off the initial heist still had lingering effects. It was way more pressure than the average senior citizen needed.
The group had discussed splitting the hundred grand among themselves and helping their own families, but they had unanimously decided to pursue Walter’s original vision to create the foundation first. They all wanted to be a part of something bigger than themselves. They wanted to learn more, but they were nervous about what might be required of them.
Sebastian knew that kind of money wouldn’t come without a price, and he wondered whether an old chain-saw salesman, a gunsmith, and a skating-rink manager could actually pay the tab. He watched Walter and thought about all his charismatic talk of money and the foundation. Then it occurred to him that it was odd for someone with his persuasive skills to be so broke. He hadn’t considered this before. Something didn’t make sense, but he didn’t want to derail the group’s discussion. I’ll just do some research on my own, he thought.
They were all enjoying the most exciting thing that had ever happened to them; most importantly, they had a goal, a purpose in life. They had called this their project. Now they were going to be able to help people. They considered themselves good guys, and the idea made their eyes twinkle.
“So, what’s the new plan?” Bernard asked excitedly.
Sebastian placed his wineglass down to focus.
Walter looked around the room like he was expecting someone to be eavesdropping. “Lucille’s granddaughter works at this place in Columbus called the Gold Mine. It’s one of those cash-for-gold places. Her boss is a real sleazeball, and according to Lucille, he keeps a pile of cash in a safe.”
“How much cash?”
“We don’t really know for sure how much money. She says it’s got to be over three hundred thousand. Boot boxes full of hundreds and twenties.”
“Hot damn!” Bernard exclaimed.
“He keeps trying to impress her by showing her inside the safe. He’s done it several times,” Walter said.
“Combination safe?” Sebastian wondered.
“Yes.”
“Can she get it?” Bernard asked.
“She’s trying. She thinks she knows two of the three numbers.”
Everyone squirmed a bit as they excitedly absorbed the new information.
“So, two things here,” Walter said, as he looked again to make sure they were not being spied on. “Lucille’s granddaughter, Bailey, is in trouble. Her boyfriend’s beating her. She says he’s into drugs. And this guy at work is harassing her, hard. Basically she’s fallen in with a bad crowd. She knows it but says she can’t afford to get out ’cause her boyfriend will find her and just beat the crap out of her.”
Walter paused when the waiter brought their food. He took a sip of wine, glanced around the room when the waiter left, and continued, “So, Lucille told Bailey about our foundation…against my expressed wishes, by the way. At any rate, apparently this girl has her heart in the right place, and she immediately volunteers up this money…says she only wants twenty thousand dollars to start over somewhere. Her dream is to design clothes. She’s a really good girl, from what Lucille says, and she’s talented. I’ve seen some of her designs; they’re good, I guess. Bailey wants us to have the rest of the money for the foundation. That’s the kind of person we need to help. She’s practical. She’s willing to go to school and build a life for herself the right way. She just needs a little help up, not a handout.”
Sebastian took a big sip of his drink and let out a deep breath in obvious disgust. “For the record, after she’s someplace safe, I’m gonna castrate the boyfriend. He won’t even look twice at another woman when I’m done with him.”
Walter and Bernard stared at Sebastian. Walter went from stone-faced to a sly grin. He liked Sebastian. “He sounds like Earl.”
“Earl?” Sebastian asked.
“The Dixie Chicks,” Walter answers.
Sebastian said, “Oh yeah, and Earl had to die!”
Sebastian and Walter chuckled.
“Suppose the safe doesn’t have that much money. Why don’t we go to a casino and bet it all on a roulette wheel? We could double our money with one spin!” Bernard said.
“Or lose it all!” Walter said in disgust.
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Sebastian offered.
“What?” Walter asked.
“Doubling our money…but let’s do it in the stock market. Let’s invest it. I hear about companies’ stocks exploding all the time on those money shows on cable TV.”
“It’s almost as dangerous as roulette.”
“Come on, Walter. You’re a smart guy. You out of all of us should appreciate the idea. This is the twenty-first century. Let’s modernize,” Sebastian said encouragingly.
Walter sat quiet, deep in thought. The foundation needs an attorney for all things legal. A savvy investment manager could certainly earn his keep. He was warming quickly to the idea, but for reasons of his own, he didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic.
“Makes sense to me,” Bernard offered.
“I know a stockbroker. Lives here in town. Good guy…I put a recoil reducer on a .243 rifle for him a couple of years ago.”
“Is he any good at investing money?”
“I don’t really know about that. He’s a nice guy, though.”
“Is he rich?”
“Well, he paid me four hundred dollars to make a rifle that barely kicks anyway not kick at all just so his daughter could shoot it…he’s got some extra money.”
Walter nodded his agreement. “I’ll Google him. If he passes that initial vetting, you can call him and set up a meeting.”
The three gray-haired men smiled as they looked at each other. Just like that, their adrenaline was pumping again.
Walter discreetly pulled out three rum-flavored cigars and handed them out like prizes. “Looks like we gotta lot of work to do, you guys.”