This is episode eleven of the novel, From Here To 1137.
Edgar's In Big Trouble
By the time the first of December rolled around, there had already been three snowfalls. The soybeans and corn yields were better than expected. Yet, not enough to forestall the financial woes coming in the spring. He went days without thinking about the invisible space-pod in the cornfield. At times, he wondered if it was still there, but not enough to make him want to check on it. He was so busy with the work and concerns of the farm, he had little to no time to think about it.
The second week in December, a cold wind blew in from the north. It brought pelting snow and built thigh-high drifts against the fences, barns, and other outbuildings.
Tom brought in a couple of arms full of split logs from the logs stacked just outside the back door. He placed the split logs next to the fireplace. He stoked the fire and sat in a chair near the fire. He picked up a half-read book and continued reading.
The phone rang. Tom got up. He walked into the dining room where the phone sat on a small table.
“Hello,” Tom said.
“Tom, this is Edgar.” His voice quivered.
Tom immediately sensed the fear in his voice. “Edgar, are you okay? You sound stressed.”
“Tom, I’m in big trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I owe a lot of money,” Edgar said.
“What!”
“I owe a lot of money.”
“To whom?”
“Some guys.”
“Not to a bank!” Tom exclaimed. “What do you mean, some guys?”
“Tough guys,” Edgar said. “Guys who hurt you or worse.”
“I don’t have any money, Edgar. The farm is nearly bankrupt. Gene Francis may have to sell it this spring.”
“How does such a thing happen?” Edgar said angrily. “I don’t trust that Gene Francis. He’s a small-town shyster lawyer. He’s holding out. There’ plenty of money in the farm.”
“There’s little to none,” Tom said. “Gene went over the books with me.”
“You say Gene did,” Edgar said skeptically.
“And I had them reviewed by an accountant,” Tom said.
“There’s something fishy going on,” Edgar said. “I don’t like playing games. These guys I’m dealing with don’t mess around. They put people in the hospital.”
“The way things are set up, I can’t send you anything,” Tom said. “And if there was money, it has to go through the trustee, and that’s Gene Francis.”
“Where’s all the money gone to?” Edgar demanded.
“Really, Edgar, it’s none of your business. You left. You wanted no part of what happened back here. But there is your debt to the farm, for one. I’ve talked to Gene about collecting the loan and kicking it down the road a bit. He says he’s morally and legally bound to carry out the will. And the unpaid loans made to you are one of the reasons for selling the farm. Also, Mom had tremendous bills from her treatments. Gene has managed to get the hospital to reduce some of the outstanding money. Mom had been robbing Peter to pay Paul for a couple of years. And you, you were always writing home for handouts. Rather than hear a grown son’s sob story, she wrote a check.”
“I’m a dead man,” Edgar said morosely.
“How much do you owe?”
“I owe a little over one hundred thousand.”
“What!” Tom exclaimed. “How did you get one hundred thousand dollars in debt?”
Edgar said nothing.
“Well?” Tom said. “I’m waiting.”
“Gambling,” Edgar said, “I’m addicted to gambling.”
“No, no, no,” Tom said, “you’re not addicted to gambling, you’re addicted to yourself. You always have been. You’re an arrogant, selfish, egotistical, halfwit.”
“Whatever happens to me, it’s on you, brother,” Edgar said sternly.
“I’m sorry, Edgar,” Tom said. “I think you know that I’d help you if I could.”
“That’s why I called,” Edgar said. “Look, I’ll try to work something out. Forget I called. Goodbye, Tom.”
“Wait a minute, Edgar,” Tom said. “There may be a way. You said you owe guys, what are the guys’ names?”
“I owe money to a guy named Frank Grasso,” Edgar said. “He’s a boss in the mafia. He’s a made man. He’s a powerful man. And he’s ruthless.”
“Where are you right now?” Tom asked.
“I’m hiding out. It’s a bed and breakfast on Long Island, Mastic Beach.” Edgar said. “It’s just a matter of time before they find me. I can’t run. Nobody can escape them. They will find you.”
“I may be able to help,” Tom said.
“How much can you come up with?” Edgar said.
“I’m not sure money is the answer,” Tom said. “There are other ways.”
“You’re talking insanity,” Edgar said. “The only thing they understand is money. If you owe them money, they own you. And if you work for them, the money is so good, it’s hard to turn down. Once you do business with them, you’re in, and there’s no way out. They can take care of you, but you have to take care of them.”
“How in the world did you ever get mixed up in this?” Tom said.
“By being so smart, you think everybody else is stupid,” Edgar said.
“How long can you stay hidden?” Tom said.
“I hope I am hidden,” Edgar said. “But I can’t really be sure.”
“Call me in the morning, eight o’clock,” Tom said. “Take care.”
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