Part 12 (1/2)

w.i.l.l.y laughed; he had hated the mystery Michael, but now that he had met him he could see that he really was a nice guy a and maybe he'd misjudged Aaron a little as well.

”Thanks ... but I have my bike,” he said, and Michael waited while he ran inside the apartment and returned with his beach cruiser.

”So, I'll pick you up here tomorrow morning at nine?” Michael said.

”Sounds good,” w.i.l.l.y said.

They shook hands again, and with a quick wave goodbye w.i.l.l.y took off toward home.

Chapter 32.

A Dagwood Sandwich Aaron poked his head through the door to the cannery break room and saw Needles sitting alone at the long wooden table with the entire contents of the refrigerator spread out in front of him. Normally the fridge was pretty bare, but that day had been a good payday, so there was plenty to eat.

Aaron started to knock on the door frame, then considered calling the whole thing off. But it was important to him a and he was probably making too much out of it anyway. A simple question requiring a simple answer, he told himself. So he knocked.

Needles had nearly completed the construction of a Dagwood sandwich. He turned toward the sound and smiled, bracing the wobbly stack of lunch meat with both hands.

”Aaron,” he said, ”come in. Are you hungry? You want some iced tea?”

”That'd be great,” Aaron said. ”Thank you.”

Needles held the sandwich with one hand and poured Aaron a gla.s.s of tea from a surprisingly elegant crystal pitcher. He pa.s.sed the box of sugar and a long spoon, and then he balanced the final slice of bread on top of his towering creation. Aaron added two spoonfuls of sugar to his tea and watched the white crystals swirl around as he stirred the amber liquid.

Needles studied his sandwich, trying to figure out the best way to eat it. ”Isn't it a little late for you to be up? It must be close to midnight.”

”Yeah, but I was just a”

”Do you want half of this?” Needles said, interrupting him. ”I think I got a little carried away.”

”Oh, sure,” Aaron replied.

Needles carefully sliced the sandwich in two, then laid half on a paper plate and handed it to Aaron. ”You were saying?”

Aaron paused, holding the plate in his hands; then at last he asked, ”Why do you rob banks?”

Needles had already committed to a large bite and he was forced to mumble. ”Because I'm an idiot,” he replied, crumbs flying.

Needles's casual reaction surprised Aaron and he relaxed a bit, but he wasn't going to let him off that easy. He set his plate on the table and wiped his hands on his jeans. ”No, really, why do you? I mean, it's wrong to steal ... right?”

”It's not by choice,” Needles said, dodging the question intentionally this time; he was in too good of a mood to dredge up a bunch of sludge. Besides, he wasn't sure if Aaron could handle the truth.

”What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

Needles paused for a moment then decided to be up front with Aaron. ”I used to be a surgeon,” he said.

”Wow, really? Why'd you quit?”

”I wish I had,” Needles said. ”The truth is I lost everything in a lawsuit: my license, my practice, my future ... all gone in the blink of an eye.”

”Oh, man,” Aaron said.

”Two years ago,” Needles explained, ”a young child, left unattended by his heroin-addict mother, drank some liquid drain cleaner and burned his insides out. They brought the kid to me, but he died on my operating table.”

Aaron wondered how close w.i.l.l.y had come to doing the same thing those nights when his mother left her little boy all alone.

Needles slid some chips and a jar of dill pickles toward Aaron. ”So, I got sued, of course, and my malpractice insurance ran out half-way through the trial. Then came the settlement with the kid's mother ...”

”Was it big?”

”Let's just say the judge wasn't sympathetic toward the 'big-city doctor.'”

Aaron leaned forward in his chair, anxious to get to the part where Needles became a bank robber. ”So, what happened next?” he asked.

”h.e.l.l, I was a total wreck,” Needles said. ”I likely would have killed myself had it not been for Johnny Souther.”

”What? You mean a”

”The same guy,” Needles said. ”It was Souther who loaned me the money to pay everyone off.”

”You're kidding ... How much?”

”Well, after insurance, and close to a million bucks out of pocket a which left me with nothing incidentally a I owed around $475,000.”

”Whoa,” Aaron said. He had guessed $50,000 and thought that was ridiculous money.

Needles continued. ”Of course I couldn't imagine how or where he would get that kind of money, but I was in no position to question him.” He paused. ”To this day, I still wonder where he got it. The money we make robbing banks is good, but it's not that good.”

Just then Beeks walked in wearing a determined look on his face.

”Let me guess,” Needles said to him, grateful for this unexpected chance to ha.s.sle his friend. ”You're lost, and you blundered in here thinking it was the toilet.”

Beeks ignored him and opened the refrigerator.

”If you don't mind, Beeks,” Needles said, ”we're having a private conversation here.”