Ransom

Damion McCourt,

I have your daughter.

Bring $1 Million to 5^th and Lane tonight.

Wait at the bus stop for a phone call.

No cops. No marked bills.

This was all fine. The problem was that I didn’t have a daughter.

                       

“Mr. McCourt, we understand the circumstances you’ve been placed in. We’re running missing persons now. Our question is whether or not you are going to be a willing participant for us,” said Agent Golding.

“I don’t think I can help you,” I responded. I had a big house, luxurious clothing, a maid and a butler on my service – the fact that I had money was obvious. I continued to roll the thought around in my mind. It had to be fairly obvious that I didn’t have a daughter, or any child for that matter.

“Mr. McCourt, please consider your action. This girl’s life may be in your hands,” Agent Golding persisted.

“He may not have even kidnapped anyone. He could just be trying to get my money for free. You realize it’s hard to ransom someone if they have nothing to lose, right?”

“Yes, I understand that, Mr. McCourt. We would like to know for sure as well. Your money will never leave your hands. We’ll be with you the entire time. Is your wife home?”

“No, just James. My wife passed away two years ago. Car accident.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. And who is James?”

“My butler.”

“And may we speak with James?”

I reached over and rang a silver bell on a side table.

The slightly stooped yet prideful look of James Beaugartner walked through the sitting room doors as if he had been waiting for the bell.

“James, I’m Detective Golding, will you go with my friend here, we have a few questions for you…yes him, thank you. Mr. McCourt who else is on your staff list?”

“Just Maggie, my maid. She’s off today, but her living quarters are in the back. I’ll take you.”

Maggie wasn’t home. That didn’t surprise me. If I only had one day off a week I doubt I would spend it cooped up in the hen house. I still had the other seven rooms furnished for more maids or butlers, but after Nancy died my thoughts of a large family jumped out the window as did my necessity for a whole cleaning crew. Maggie did just fine. A little dusting, garbage on Wednesdays, and a meal every night – but only because she worries about my cholesterol not because I tell her to cook. She says she likes it. Gives her a reason to cook for herself as well. Doesn’t bother me at all.

“James lives in these quarters?”

“No James lives on Mayberry, he says he prefers to keep business and home separate. All the same to me, really.”

“Mr. McCou - ”

“Stop persisting. I’ll do the damn drop. Let me go change into some evening wear and get the money together.”

They marked all of my bills. It took an hour. I thought it strange, considering they had said the money would never leave my hands.

That night I waited at the bus stop on 5^th and Lane. The bench looked sticky and trash from the can was overflowing onto it. I refused to sit. I could see the darkened cars watching me with baited breath on three different streets, all waiting for their chance. It was 8:03 when a Jack in the Box cup in the trash can began ringing.

“Hello,” I said, disgusted, when I picked the disposable phone up out of the cup.

“Leave the money under the bench and go.”

“Where’s my daughter?” I asked, perhaps too unconcernedly.

“I have her.”

“Good. You realize I don’t have a daughter right?” I sensed Agent Golding grinding his teeth at me.

“Of course you do,” the phone jostled a moment, then

“Daddy?”

“Hi sweetheart, it’s not your Daddy. My name is Damion McCourt and I’m going to help you get home.”

“Daddy! Help me!”

“I will, sweetie, I will, but I’m not your father.”

“Daddy,” she screamed, she sounded like she was only four, the phone jostled again.

“Now, leave the money and go.”

“Bring me the girl.”

“Leave the mon - ” somewhere behind the phone call, two gunshots rang out and the girl screamed. She didn’t stop screaming.

“Hello? What’s going on?”

“Check him! Get his gun!”

“It’s okay little one, we’re here now, we’re here, everything is okay.”

“Hello? Hello?”

The phone jostled again, “who is this?”

“I should ask you the same question,” surely Agent Golding’s teeth were being sawed off at my sarcasm by this point.

“Agent Dunnifer. What business do you have speaking with Jack Gruntle?”

“I got a ransom note from him saying he had my daughter. I’m at a drop right now. Do you have the girl?”

“Yes, is this Mr. Lundy?”

“No, Damion McCourt.”

“The girl I have is Hank Lundy’s daughter. We can search the premises for your daughter.”

“No, I don’t have a daughter.”

The line when quiet for a moment.

“Sir, if you don’t have a daughter…”

“The guy said he took my daughter, but I don’t have one. I was doing the drop to help whoever he did have.”

“I see. Where are you at?”

“Del Mar, California. You?”

“Riverside.”

“That’s a couple hours away. There’s no way that asshole was going to give me the girl or come get this money. What the hell is going on?”

Agent Golding stole the phone away from me. I hadn’t even heard him coming. They spoke for a while. I massaged my briefcase handle imagining a really lucky pickpocket.

“The girl they recovered is Hannah Lundy, she’s the only female on scene,” said Agent Golding, “she was a kidnapping case from two years ago. The girl is insisting that you are her father.”

“I’ll take a blood test. I’m nobody’s family, that’s for damn sure.”

“Alright guys, I have an idea here,” Agent Golding spoke into his walkie talkie, “we’re going to continue with this drop, hold position.”

“What? Why?” I said, following him to the car, my briefcase left naked and alone at the dirty bus stop.

“Jack most likely had a partner. Someone who would actually pick up your money. Let’s see if we can find out who that was.”

Three hours, two cups of coffee, and a full spinal cramp later a cloaked figure came around the corner and passed the bus stop so quickly I hadn’t even noticed my briefcase disappear. The cops were on the figure in moments. I ran out after them. They lifted the hood from the black hair. It was Maggie.

“What are you doing?”

“You asshole. You should have just given me the money when I asked you for it.”

“Maggie? Why? What money? What’s going on? Who is the girl? Who is Jack?”

“Later, McCourt, take her in guys.”

The next morning I went to the station to watch the questioning – a favor by Golding. The little girl was there.

“Daddy!” she wrapped her arms around me.

“Sweetie, I’m not your father.” The angry looking man behind her was presumably Hank Lundy, and the biologic father. “Daddy, why is Mommy in there?”

“What? You mean Maggie?”

She nodded.

“Maggie isn’t…”

“I’m your Mommy sweetie, me, remember?” a woman came over.

I went to listen to Maggie’s questioning.

“I’ve had little Lauren for the last two years. Jack dropped her off on my porch in the back, he said to take care of her. I told her I was her mother and Damion was her father, but he was much too busy to bother with silly girls. That asshole didn’t even notice I had a child. He’s so fucking self-absorbed in his money and misery. And no, Jack never came back. He called me a couple weeks ago and I drove Lauren up there to him, to her Uncle Jack. And we decided to get some money out of it.”

Her plan was incredibly flawed. I rolled my eyes. Money and misery. Better than raising a stolen kid and going to jail for being completely delusional. I shook my head. I’m going to have to find out what my butler has been up to.