Chapter 9

I remember years ago while in the military, talking with one of the men under my command who had since passed away. He told me about the small town he had come from. The town was a pretty nice place except for the name and a corrupt and lazy police force. I could never forget the name of the town it was too funny. It was called Hell.

There weren't any major problems in the town. No murders to speak of with the biggest action on Friday and Saturday nights. Which kept the town's police force active for the bad guys were harassing drunks ... often rolling them for their money. I felt the town of Hell was vital for my temporary safe refuge.

Funny place morgues. It is a known fact that they pay their staff peanuts especially the night shift. The neighboring town to 'Hell' was pretty good size. It had a morgue and was fairly easy to bluff my way in that night. There was only one attendant who looked brain dead and apparently had an obvious liking for drugs.

This was perfect for my purpose. I asked to see the 'John Doe' bodies to look for a loved one. When he asked me to sign in, a $100 bill soon put that issue to rest.

I was hoping my luck would continue to hold out and it did. There were a lot of vagrants in these parts and unfortunately some deaths occurred with no one to claim these people. The morgue had four 'John Doe' bodies and one was perfect for my needs. The dead guy was roughly the same size and shape as me and was maybe five years older. He was the one.

I spoke with the attendant and thanked him for his time. I told him I was searching for a lost uncle because there was a large inheritance at stake. His family believed he was dead but since I didn't want any family members following my trail another $200 ensured he would forget who I was.

Then I casually asked him about his job to find out his work hours. I learned that he would be on duty Saturday night. So far 'Everything Was Coming Up Roses' — for me that is.

I got into 'Hell' later that evening and booked a room at the local motel for 4 nights. Hell was going to remember who Roger Easton was. I had several very pleasant conversations with the motel staff and asked about the town. I was given more information than I needed but they would remember me. I went to sleep that night, very happy about how things were progressing.

Friday morning I got up had a quick shower then after another pleasant conversation with the motel staff I headed into town. I decided to have breakfast at the local diner which was a very busy little place and apparently was adored by the locals. I then proceeded to make myself known to them, whilst at breakfast. I met local farmers, business men and even the mayor.

I told the mayor I was quite taken with the town and would be staying for a few days to check out the local sights. By the end of breakfast many in the town knew the name Roger Easton.

My next step was to find the perfect spot for my death. I found it pretty easily as I had been warned of it. Just outside of Hell but still in the town limits and as noted deserved its reputation as a notorious black spot. It seems many people had driven off this cliff to their deaths. I said a silent prayer of thanks to the deceased Army Private who had come from this town. Still ... everything was going very well.

My next stop was to drive around town to try and find the mode of transport I would require Saturday night. I had almost given up when I found it outside of the town on a small farm. The farmer had a sign up 'dirt bike for sale'. I went in and had a chat with the farmer. Then I checked the bike out, took it for a test ride and then settled on a price. I then threw the bike into the back of my truck and covered it up.

By then it was late afternoon. I stopped at the diner for a late lunch and by chance the Sheriff was in the diner having a coffee and hitting on the waitress. I introduced myself and had a pleasant conversation with Sheriff Baxter. He looked fat, lazy and incompetent. The Sheriff gladly gave me a tip on one of the local bars, I would avoid drinking there.

However, that night I hit one of the local establishments which was pretty seedy but relatively busy. I had a few drinks and a few laughs with the locals. They seemed to like me but I guess buying drinks for people does that. This place would be fine for Saturday night. I left the bar and drove back out to the black spot outside of town; I found a safe spot to hide my dirt bike, helmet and change of clothes. I then drove back to the motel and went to sleep.

I awoke early Saturday and felt confident that all was in place and the plan was as good as it could be. I had breakfast again at the diner and chatted with the locals. I left the waitress a very large tip and I then jumped in my truck and headed back to the motel.

I had to kill a few hours, so I basically lazed around, watched TV and went over my plans for tonight. I had lunch at one of the restaurants in town, made small talk with the locals and left another large tip.

Early evening came quickly enough and I drove out to the morgue. All was quiet so I parked my truck out back and hoped the same attendant was on duty.

My opportunity came quickly enough. I knew the guy was now flush with my cash and he wouldn't be able to help himself. He locked up and drove off. I figured he was going to go out for half an hour or so to score some drugs, booze or both.

I quickly and efficiently picked the lock and I was in the morgue. I found my John Doe body and checked to ensure that no cameras had been installed since I was last here. Nothing had changed, so I took John, re-locked the door and put the body in the truck and left.

I arrived at the black spot well after dark and I hid the body next to my bike and supplies. I then ventured back into town. I briefly went to my motel, had a shower and changed clothes. I left all my stuff and what I was wearing at the motel. I put the key in my pocket and drove to my new favorite bar.

It was really full when I arrived which suited my need. I was welcomed by my fellow drinkers as they recognized the generous 'out of towner' buyer. We talked, we laughed and we drank. I was buying drinks for everyone, they didn't realize that I probably only had one and a half beers all night since I discreetly got rid of the rest by leaving a bottle here and there.

I started acting drunker and drunker. I was soon buying shots for everyone. Wow! Roger Easton was a great guy. What I didn't reckon on was that the bartender would actually have a conscience and told me maybe I had enough. He wanted my truck keys and so I would have to walk back to the motel.

I thought quickly ... slammed $500 on the bar and slurred "drinks for everyone" while I backed away. People rushed to the bar to order their 'free drinks'. I was given slaps on the back with the locals saying 'Thanks Roger'. All of that gave me the perfect opportunity to stagger out of the bar and jump in my truck.

To continue the charade I drove out of the lot weaving all over the place and continued to do so until I was out of the sight of the bar.

Now I just needed to avoid any cops or any traffic. I shouldn't have worried as the cops were probably dealing with the guys rolling drunks or the drunks themselves.

Fortunately traffic was light as it would be in a small town plus late at night.

I arrived at the black spot pretty quickly; I parked the truck near the cliff and went into the nearby bushes to retrieve the body. My luck needed to remain strong as I couldn't afford anyone seeing this part.

I quickly stripped and changed my clothes then dressed the body in my old clothes. Then after placing the body in the driver's seat of my truck, I grabbed 4 bottles of whiskey brought on Friday and poured the contents all over the body and the interior of the truck.

With that done I opened the fuel tank and put a fuel soaked rag in there. With the truck next to the drop, I started the engine and put it in gear. I lit the rag as it passed by and watched as it rolled over the edge.

Walking over to the edge I watched the truck roll down the cliff face and explode. With that I jumped on the dirt bike and rode off to my well earned freedom.

Hours later and early in the morning I arrived at Brian Moses beach house. Brian let me in and we sat and talked. Brian had purchased a second hand beat up truck for my use.

He also had an intriguing offer. His Dad had recently passed away and had a cabin a few hours away in a very isolated spot near a town called 'Last Chance' which he offered to me. I readily agreed. 'Last Chance' seemed an appropriate place to hide out for awhile.