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25
Those Psychic People Are Crazy
Financially choking on the bounces from the bank, Becky had finally figured out how to call the person who had been sending us the credit card numbers—not the contact number we’d been given, but the line the customers called. For a buck ninety-nine a minute, a breathy, sultry voice on the other end promised to discuss anything the caller wanted in the way of “hot, hot, hot sexy talk.”
“The operative word being hot,” Alan suggested, but I was not amused.
“What happens after that?” I asked.
“They want a credit card number.”
“Well, what about the contact number?”
“They called Kermit back once and told him they would send us more credit card numbers to process, but they haven’t responded to our messages since then.”
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“Would that work, send us more numbers?”
“Well, maybe, but Ruddy, most of the numbers are bouncing! We didn’t know the cardholders were disputing the charges because it takes a full billing cycle for us to get the notice. We’d have to run a huge amount of business through our account to get out of this hole, and Kermit says the bank would shut us down before then. Ruddy, I ... I was just going to put in new Caesarstone counters.” She turned and surveyed the Black Bear, no doubt seeing all of her planned improvements going away.
I called the number Becky gave me, impatiently tapping my foot as the recording moaned and whispered its way through the sales pitch. Finally a human voice picked up.
“Credit card number?” the woman asked, sounding less sexy than bored.
“You the person I’m going to be talking to?” I demanded.
“No, I just take the credit card. One of our models will be handling your call,” she responded.
“Sounds like she’s said that a few million times before,” Alan noted.
“Then you are the person I need to talk to. We’re getting all these bank inquiries. The business you’re sending us is crap, it all bounces.”
There was a long silence. “Who is this?” she finally asked.
“We’re the people who have been running your numbers.”
“Running numbers?” she repeated.
“Processing your credit card numbers. Swipe, nonswipe.” I put my hand over the phone. “Where’s Kermit?” I hissed at Becky. She gestured toward the kitchen and I jerked my head at her to go get him. “Hello? You there?” I asked into the phone.
“I’m here,” the woman responded reluctantly.
“Well, we have to do something about this. No one told us you were a sex line; we thought you were a psychic. Your transactions are bouncing all over the place.”
“I don’t talk to you.”
“What?”
“I don’t talk to you. You got problems, you take it up with Mr. Drake.”
“Mr. Drake? Who’s Mr. Drake?”
“He’s the business manager.”
“Well, put him on.”
“Oh, Drake’s not here,” she told me scornfully. “I’ll have to take a message.”
“I don’t think you understand me.”
“We finished, here?”
“Finished? You tell Mr. Drake that we’re not running any more numbers for you. You got a lot of transactions today? Well, you might as well tear them up, because I’m not putting a single one through the bank. What I am going to do is call my lawyer and the state district attorney and we’re going to get to the bottom of this!”
“Can’t do that.”
“What?”
“You can’t do that,” she repeated more distinctly. “We have a contract.”
“You have this number?” I looked over at Becky, who nodded. “You have this number. You tell Drake what I said. I’m going to wait ten minutes, then I’m calling the D.A.”
I hung up the phone. “Tell Kermit to get out here.”
“He’s making chili,” my sister replied. She stuck her chin out.
“Becky, this whole thing is his doing!”
“He didn’t know! He thought it was a psychic line.”
“Well, he should have known—it’s his business, for heaven’s sake. Kermit!” I bellowed. “Get the hell out here!”
Kermit peeked around the corner, wiping his hands on an apron. The phone rang and I snatched it up.
“Black Bear, Ruddy McCann speaking,” I said, just as my parents had taught me. I found myself wishing I’d come up with a tougher greeting, like, “Yeah?” or something.
“You wanted to talk to me?” Drake had done a much better job preparing himself to sound threatening.
“This Drake?”
“Yeah, and the first thing is, you don’t ever talk to my girls like that, got it? Some kinda problem, you deal with me. Otherwise, we have a little conversation.”
“That made no sense whatsoever,” Alan complained. “We are having a conversation.”
“Here’s what I understand, Drake. We were supposed to be running numbers for a psychic line, and instead you’ve got us doing sex talk.”
“So what? Lot more money than psychics. Those people are crazy.”
“So they don’t pay their bills, that’s so what. We have ...” I looked at Becky and she mouthed “ten thousand,” which caused my eyes to bulge. “We have ten thousand dollars’ worth of bounces we have to refund.”
“Yeah,” Drake grunted. “Happens. Somebody steals a credit card number, first thing they wanna do is call a sex line. Customer sees the charge and denies it but by then it’s too late for us. Bane of my freakin’ existence.”
“Your existence? We’re the one getting the bounces!”
“Well come on, McCann. Did you really think you were going to get to keep all that money, just for entering numbers in a little machine? This is a tough racket.”
I decided I didn’t care about his business problems. “The point is, we’re shutting this down, and you need to send us ten thousand dollars.”
Drake laughed heavily. “That’s not going to happen. I’ve been through this before, friend, and let me tell you, the only way out is to grow through it. I’ll get you some more volume to process. I can get some Internet stuff, too.”
“Are you stupid? We can’t grow our way out of this, it’s a disaster!”
Drake was silent for a long time. “I’m going to ignore that little remark, friend, because we’ve got a business relationship.”
“Not anymore. We don’t want you to send us anything but the money to get out of this.”
“Don’t even think that. I’ve got an operation to run here and you’re my source for credit card processing. That’s the deal. Period.”
“No, the deal is, send us ten thousand dollars or we call the D.A. Period.”
“Oh, don’t even start with that. A deal is a deal. We’ve got a contract. You want me to come up there and enforce this contract?”
“Sure.”
“I have to tell you, friend, you do not want to see me in that little pissant town of yours.”
“Why, are you as ugly as you sound?”
He breathed into the phone. “Well maybe I will be paying you a visit.”
“Good idea. Bring your checkbook.”
“What I’m gonna bring is a world of pain.”
“Looking forward to it.” I hung up. “Kermit!”
“What did they say, Ruddy?” Becky asked anxiously.
“He said he’s going to come up here in the pain-mobile. Kermit!”
Kermit came out, looking fearful. Becky put a hand on my arm as if to keep me from hitting him. “Do you know how much this place means to me and my sister?” I seethed. “This is going to ruin us. Ten thousand dollars!”
“Are they going to send us the money?” Becky asked.
I stared at them, their eyes hopeful and frightened, like children. The anger left me and I shook my head wearily. “People like this don’t pay what they owe other people, Becky.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I make my living off people like this.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Becky, I need to talk to you a minute.” I pulled her over so that we were standing under the protective arms of Bob the Bear.
“What are we going to do, Ruddy?” I had never seen Becky so frightened. I put an arm on her shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay, Becky. I’ll talk to Milton. He’ll give me the money and take a note on the house.”
She nodded. “I’ll pay it back, Ruddy, I swear—”
“I know, of course you will,” I interrupted. “I’m not worried about that. There’s just one condition.”
She searched my eyes. “Ruddy, no.”
I nodded. “I want Kermit out of here. He’s been nothing but trouble for us, can’t you see? This whole thing has been a disaster. He’s just using us for the credit card account. He wants his third.”
“No, he loves me,” Becky whispered in a tiny voice.
“Becky, you don’t have to settle for someone like Kermit!”
She made her calculation, standing there, and then straightened, pulling back from my arms. “No, Ruddy. If that’s the condition, then no deal.”
She turned from me and strode away, heading back into the kitchen to be with Kermit. I watched her go with my mouth open.
“She sort of called your bluff there, didn’t she?” Alan’s dry voice asked.
I walked out into the street so that Alan and I could talk. “I wasn’t bluffing.”
“Oh, really. So you’re just going to let the Black Bear go out of business, then?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Monday morning I was awake before dawn, agitatedly pulling on clothes and scooping up the court papers for Einstein Croft. Jake, afraid I’d drag him out for a walk at that unholy hour, wouldn’t even look at me as I headed out the door. Time to earn my fifty bucks.
Alan came awake on the highway. “We’re headed to East Jordan,” he noted.
“Yeah.”
“Shouldn’t we go up to Traverse City and find Wexler?”
“I think Wexler is doing a pretty good job of finding us. Besides, what do you want to do, just sit and watch him all day?”
“See what he’s up to,” Alan agreed.
“Well, that sounds like a complete waste of time to me. Besides—and this may be difficult for you to comprehend—but occasionally I involve myself with things that have nothing to do with you.”
“Ah, the good mood you were in all weekend continues to make its presence felt,” Alan observed.
He had no idea. I wanted to punch somebody. I wanted to punch him. I felt as if my skin itched, as if I was sitting on the bench while my team lost the game.
The gray overcast sky became gradually lighter, which is how dawn presents itself in a northern Michigan spring. I turned off my headlights and automatically twitched my fingers toward the repo switch, but I didn’t flip it—there was no point. I stopped twenty yards away from Einstein Croft’s new gate, chewing on my lip.
“So now what, we wait for him to come out and go to work?” Alan inquired.
“That’s the idea.”
“And what, follow him? How do you get him to pull over so you can serve him the papers?”
“I don’t know.”
“They probably aren’t going to let you back on the PlasMerc lot.”
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