Got any bleach?
— Mr. I.D.K.
My lifters in L.A. were gone, and I still had one house left to hit. I decided to do it myself, like the old days. But, unlike the old days, I wanted eyes outside to keep watch while I searched for the mark's Bitcoin seed words.
I didn't want to work with a stranger, so I called on somebody I knew through the Boxtan Inn.
I called Nono's brother, Jojo.
Jojo left Gary under less than optimal circumstances back when I was working at the Boxtan. He wanted to join Foke's crew, but Nono said, "NO," because he knew Gary was rougher than Jojo was ready for.
Jojo headed for California, looking for greener pastures. When he left, he said, if I was ever in L.A. I should look him up.
I was there. So I did.
I shouldn't have.
Jojo was nothing like his older brother, Nono. He was maybe five inches shorter and a hundred pounds lighter, which still made him considerably larger than the average guy, but he was no beast. I thought that would make him more covert.
Nope.
I told Jojo where to meet me. He showed up dressed in black from head to toe, with a ski mask and a baseball bat, because that doesn't look suspicious at all.
Still, it should have been fine.
And it probably would have, if he hadn't followed me into the house.
"Jojo! What are you doing?"
He said, "Yo, I'm branchin' out. Time to learn from a pro. Foke says you got mad skills."
"Goddamn! You told him you're working with me?"
"Foke's the man. Gotta get his okay. But don't you worry. He said he ain't tellin' Nono, so we good. Let's do this!"
"You're supposed to be my lookout. I need you outside!"
"They ain't comin' back anytime soon."
I should have bailed. Instead, I stood there like an idiot, arguing with an idiot, until I heard a car drive by. I realized I was wasting time.
The house was a four bedroom McMansion that looked fancy, but wasn't. Every house in the neighborhood looked the same, and you could tell they were built fast. The guys who lived in this one didn't have much stuff. The place should have been easy to search.
I told Jojo to at least keep watch by the front door, but he followed me from room to room, like an overgrown puppy, furry ears, wagging tail and all.
I found pictures of morons in camo on hunting trips, a love letter to somebody whose real name was surely not Lulu, and an outdated restraining order, but I couldn't find the mark's Bitcoin seed words.
I was about to give up when a vehicle pulled into the driveway. Its doors opened, then slammed shut. One. Then another.
I yelled at Jojo. "Fuck! Somebody's here! This is why you were supposed to be outside! Keeping watch!"
We were standing in a long hallway with two arched openings in the middle. One led to a stairway, heading to the basement. The other led to an office. At the far end of the hall was a kitchen with a back door that was the only other way out of the house.
Jojo just stood there, like he was waiting for me to tell him what to do.
"Goddamn, Jojo! RUN!!!"
I could hear somebody fumbling with keys in the front door.
As it opened, a voice said, "What the...? Did you leave the door unlocked?"
Another voice said, "No way."
I always locked the door when I entered somebody's home. I must have missed that when Jojo followed me in.
As I watched Jojo go lumbering down the stairs, I turned to run, but I panicked. I meant to head for the kitchen, but I went straight into the office instead. It had a desk and a bookshelf, but nothing big enough to hide behind. There was an open window with curtains, but it was blocked by a screen. I thought about punching it out, but there wasn't enough time. I dove into the closet instead and pulled the door closed as quietly as I could. It was a small space, but I figured I'd be fine as long as nobody searched, though I'd be fucked if they did.
I could hear voices inside the house.
A man said, "Is somebody here?"
Another said, "I think I heard something."
I heard it too. It was Jojo, in the basement, probably looking for a place to hide.
This wasn't my first time getting stuck in a mark's home when somebody returned, but this was different. These men knew they weren't alone. As they started looking to see who else was there, I was running out of options. Hiding in a closet wouldn't be good enough, so...
I did what I had to do.
I gave them what they were looking for.
Sorry, Jojo.
I always had a wrench and a flashlight in my purse, just in case. It was evening. I figured I might need the flashlight, so... I opened the closet door and flung that five dollar wrench as far as I could, out of the office and across the hall. It hit a wall before banging and bouncing down the stairs. BAM! Bam! BAM! A man came running from the living room. He followed the noise down to the basement. TROMP! Tromp! TROMP!
The other man shouted, "What's going on down there?" Then he went thundering down the stairs too. Tromp! TROMP! Tromp!
I couldn't risk leaving the office until I was sure I had a clear shot to the kitchen, to get out the back door. So, I gently closed the closet again, hiding myself inside.
Even with the door closed, I could hear screaming coming from then basement.
"Look out! He's got a bat!"
"Get him! Get him!"
Something, something. Then, nothing...
...then I heard a gunshot, followed by more screaming.
...and another gunshot.
...and then, silence.
Jojo was no Nono, but he was still at least 6'4" and 250 pounds. Did they get him? Or did he get them?
My question was answered when I heard a deep guttural sound, and an oafish shriek, followed by another gunshot.
...then silence, followed by what I assumed was a 250 pound thud.
...then more silence, which could only mean one thing. Jojo was down.
A third man shouted from somewhere. "Jesus Christ! Are you guys okay?" And another pair of feet went tromping past the office where I was hiding, down the stairs.
After that, all I heard was mumbling.
I pulled down some coats and covered myself as I cowered into as little space as possible, at the bottom of the closet. I wanted to run, but I had no way of knowing if there was a fourth man, still upstairs. I had no choice but to wait it out.
I heard the men dragging what had to be Jojo's dead body up the stairs.
"Who the fuck is he?" a man said.
"I don't know."
"What do we do with him?"
"I don't know. Throw him in the truck. We'll dump him."
"Where?"
"I don't know. We'll figure it out. Got anything to cover him up?"
"I got a tarp in the garage."
"Get it."
A third voice said, "Was he alone?"
"I don't know. Wrap him up and toss him in the truck, but check his pockets first. And wait for me. Got it?"
"Yeah."
As footsteps approached where I was hiding, it became obvious Mr. I Don't Know was searching the house.
All I could do was wait, and hope he wouldn't check the closet I was in.
But he did.
The door opened. Nothing happened. The moment of nothingness felt like a year that lasted a lifetime.
I could hear a man breathing.
I wondered, "Why is he just standing there?"
My heart was pounding.
I heard him sniff. And sniff again. But why?
I was hiding under a pile of coats. Coats? In Los Angeles? All I could do was wonder, "Who the hell are these guys?" The mark was supposed to be a crypto bro who worked at a sporting goods store.
I held my breath.
A voice said, "Yeah, so? Was he was alone?"
Mr. I Don't Know said, "I don't know, but I didn't find anybody. Fuck. We got a mess. Got any bleach?"
"I don't think so. You really wanna do that first?"
"I don't know, but I know I want him gone. Let's dump him first. We'll clean up when we get back."
Then, the closet door closed, and I exhaled as the footsteps walked away.
The sounds of mumbling faded until the front door opened and closed. Then, I heard what I assumed was their truck peel out and drive away.
I waited until I could convince myself everyone was gone. When I crept out of the closet, I found a trail of blood leading from the stairs to the front door.
I couldn't face that. Not even to pass through. Not even for a way out. And I didn't trust that the coast was clear out the front door.
I snuck out the back door and vanished.
I'm a ghost.