Ticket to Ride

            by Emma Schnur

 

Neil was not having a good day.  Everything that could have gone wrong had: he had woken up very late, run out of his house still buttoning his shirt, made an awful presentation at work, and had left his office late, which meant that he would miss his BART train.  Sure enough, as he was walking down the steps into the station he heard the familiar emotionless computerized voice call out, “Nine car Richmond train now approaching platform one.”

            “Shit,” Neil muttered. “Shit shit shit.” He quickened his pace, took out his wallet, and, seeing that he only had one twenty, sprinted over to the change machine which sat next to the flower shop.  Neil weaved in and out of people, a mother with her young daughter in a stroller, a tall man wearing a hat and holding a suitcase, and a very strange looking man, wearing his two pet cockatiels in a cage on his back.  Neil dodged past these people, and slowed himself to a stop when he reached the change machine, where a maintenance worker was just finishing repairing it.  As he waited behind the worker, Neil attempted to smooth down the wrinkled corners of his bill. 

 “It’s fixed now.” The maintenance worker spit out in a cruel, raspy voice.  Neil could feel the hate dripping off each word, splattering onto him. 

“Thanks,” Neil said, unsure how to answer.  Neil’s eyes locked into the man’s brown ones.  After a moment, the worker walked away and out of sight.  Neil would have stood there a bit longer, contemplating this interaction, but he was shaken awake by the computerized voice saying, “Nine car Richmond train now boarding platform one.”  Neil thrust his twenty into the machine and angrily sighed as it rejected his crinkled bill and asked him to try again.  Neil heard an irritated cough behind him and turned to find the very tall man whom he had passed earlier, standing behind him and glancing at his watch.

“Sorry, just one more second.” Neil frantically smoothed his bill once more and shoved it into the machine.  The machine finally accepted his twenty and dropped his change into the change holder.  Neil’s heart fell as he glanced to look at the platform below, and heard the train close its doors and speed away.  There went his last hope of getting home on time.  Neil sighed again, turned back to the machine, and was about to grab his change, when he realized that the machine was still dropping bills.  He had put in a twenty, right?  That should mean that only four five-dollar bills would come out.  Neil watched incredulously as the bills kept dropping, and when the last one fluttered to the bottom, he reached into the holder and grabbed one of the bills.  He looked at it, and not recognizing the president that was staring up at him, pulled it close to his face and gasped.  Neil had never seen anything like it.  Grasping it closer to his chest, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed.  The man behind him was gone.  Across from him were some people at the ticket machines and next to him were two people arguing about what flowers to buy.  No one saw him. 

Neil did not know what to do.  Should he take the money?  No, that was a stupid question.  The right thing to do would be to turn it into the police.  But that was the right thing.  This was… well, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.  How often did this happen to somebody?  Never.  Neil grinned and, looking around him to make sure that nobody was watching him, reached into the machine and was just about to grab more bills when he felt a rough hand on his shoulder.

“Well now sir,” Neil sheepishly looked up to see a muscular BART security guard grinning at him.  “I’ve been watching you from across the way by the newsstand area - you see it over there? Well, that’s where I was and I couldn’t help but notice that you sir were getting very shifty-eyed and fidgety and if there’s one thing I learned from the night school of mine is that shifty-eyed, fidgety people are up to no good.  So sir, what seems to be the problem?”  The BART security guard pulled the bill away from Neil’s chest.  His eyes widened as he looked at it.  “Yes, I see.  Well now.  I don’t believe that this falls under my jurisdiction, so why don’t we let the police have a look at this?  Come with me, sir.”

~

            “Detective Hayden, Detective Logan, thank you for coming down.”  Detective Hayden was inspecting his shoe but glanced up at the sergeant when he heard his name, while Detective Logan looked up from his notepad when his name was called.

            “It’s always a pleasure to help out.  What have we got?”  Detective Logan answered, smiling at the sergeant who stood before them.

            “Come, I’ll show you.  Follow me please.”  The sergeant led them down the stairs into the station.

            “Brownnoser.” Detective Hayden snorted at Logan as they followed the sergeant. 

            “Shut up.  First of all, I am not.  Second of all, a detective ranks above a sergeant, so shut the fuck up,” Detective Logan retorted.

            “Detectives? Are you listening?”  The sergeant turned and faced them.

            “Yes we are,” Detective Logan turned back to the sergeant. “Please continue.”

            “Alright, so like I was saying, Neil Hubbard came down those steps that we just came down and made his way over to the change machine.  He then claims that he was standing behind a maintenance worker, but we cannot find the worker that he described-”

            “Interesting,” Detective Logan interrupted. “Have the workers been questioned?”

            “Yes, sir, they have.  None of them can recall a worker like the one Mr. Hubbard described.”

            “So he made it up?”

            “Well sir, it seems that way.  However, Mr. Hubbard is so adamant that there was a worker in front of him that it’s hard to disregard what he’s saying.”

            “I see.” Detective Logan paused and jotted something down in his notebook.  Detective Hayden, looking bored, sucked his teeth. “Please continue.”

            “Mr. Hubbard claims that he then stuck an ordinary twenty dollar bill in the machine, and out came thirty one-thousand dollar bills.”

Detective Logan let out a low whistle.  “That’s a lot of dough.”

Detective Hayden snickered.  The sergeant glanced at him as he continued, “That’s when the security guard came up to him and asked him what was going on.  He’s standing over there by the escalator if you want to question him.”

“That would be great.”  Detective Logan smiled.  Detective Hayden rolled his eyes and coughed.  “Will you excuse me so I can go over the facts with my partner?”

“Sure,” the sergeant said and walked away.

Frustrated, Detective Logan turned to Detective Hayden.  “What is your problem?”

“Can I ask you something?” Detective Hayden said squinting.

“Fine, but make it quick.”

“Was there a murder here?”

Detective Logan hesitated. “No.”

“A rape?”

“No.”

“An assault?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing here?”

“Were you listening to what the sergeant said? Thirty thousand dollars was found here not more than half an hour ago. That’s what we’re doing here.”  Detective Logan flipped his notebook closed and started walking toward the escalator.

Detective Hayden shuffled behind him.  “Well, it’s a crap job if you ask me.  It’s bound to be some boring bank robbery or some stupid shit like that and it’s just a waste of time. Fuck this. I did not sign on to be a fucking cop who doesn’t do shit.”

“Let’s just question Mr. Hubbard and then you can get back to resenting your job.”  Detective Logan flipped open his notebook and approached Neil Hubbard.  Mr. Hubbard was leaning against the escalator, looking very annoyed at being delayed, and very afraid that he was in way over his head. 

“Mr. Hubbard?” Detective Logan started.  Neil looked at him.  “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright with you.” Neil nodded. “Great.” 

After questioning Neil and finding nothing new, Detectives Logan and Hayden made their way back to the station.  Neither of them said anything on the ride over. 

~

“Mrs. Bennett, please.  We know that you withdrew thirty thousand dollars from the bank.  We also know that the thirty thousand dollars we found in the BART machine belonged to you.  What we don’t know is why you put your money into the machine.  Now, if you tell us why you put your money into that machine, we will leave your house.”  Detective Logan sat, his notebook open, across from the hard mouthed Mrs. Bennett. 

“The money that you found can’t be mine.  I don’t have thirty thousand dollars to withdraw.” Mrs. Bennett’s piercing green eyes stared adamantly at the Detectives, with a look that was undoubtedly asking them to leave. 

Detective Logan didn’t flinch.  “We traced the serial number on the bills back to your bank account.  We know that was your money in the machine.  Now tell us why it was there.” 

“It doesn’t belong to me.  I don’t have that kind of money.  Please, show me a warrant or –” Mrs. Bennett was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.  “Excuse me. I have to answer that.”  She gracefully left her living room and entered the adjacent hallway.

Detective Logan turned to Detective Hayden, who was busy picking his nails.  “What do you think?”

“That this shit is so fucking boring.”

“Suck it up and grow some balls.  What do you think about this case?”

Detective Hayden squinted at Detective Logan.  “I think she’s doing some counterfeit job.  I think that she needs the money.  I mean look around,” Detective Hayden motioned around the dusty old room.  Detective Logan followed his hand, seeing the beat up couch across from them and the shaggy rug on the floor.  “This isn’t exactly the Ritz fucking Carleton.”

“I don’t know.  I think there’s something else.”  Detective Logan looked at his notebook, trying to connect the dots.

“I hope that there are drugs involved.  Everything gets more interesting when there are drugs.”  Detective Hayden looked off into the distance.

“Wait, shut up for a minute.”  Detective Logan peered into the hallway.  Mrs. Bennett’s frantic voice could be heard.

“I told you– I don’t have that kind of money.  I scraped together everything I could.  Please, you have to understand…  I know.  I know.  But- but I don’t even know that man- he could be anywhere… how am I supposed to find him in seven hours?” pause. “Ok… yes…How much more? Fifty – I don’t have that kind of money! Please, just let me get the thirty back and I’ll…. Hello?  Hello?  Hello!!”

A pale Mrs. Bennett walked slowly back into the room and sat down across from her guests.  After a moment, without looking at the detectives, she said, “I need your help.”

Detective Logan flipped to a new page in his notebook.  Detective Hayden kept picking at his hangnail. 

Mrs. Bennett drew a deep, shaky breath.  “Two days ago, my daughter went missing.  I didn’t know where she was – she didn’t call or anything.  I called all of her friends, but none of them had seen her.  Then a man called and told me that if I didn’t give him thirty thousand dollars, he would kill my child.”  Mrs. Bennett paused and closed her eyes.  She resumed, eyes still closed, “Now I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not exactly a wealthy person.”  Detective Hayden grunted, but was watching Mrs. Bennett now.

“Please continue, Mrs. Bennett.”  Detective Logan said reassuringly as he rolled his eyes at Detective Hayden.

“I managed to get thirty thousand dollars.  I was to leave the ransom money in the change machine at the Berkeley BART station at exactly 8:30 last night.  Luckily, my son has a friend who works at that station.  He somehow managed to borrow his friend’s uniform and was able to put the money into the change machine.”

“The mysterious maintenance worker,” Detective Hayden mumbled, leaning forward.  “Now it gets interesting.”

“The man just called me again.  He said that he never received the ransom.  Someone rushed in front of him and took the money.”

“Mr. Neil Hubbard?” Detective Logan asked.  “He was the one who found the money.”

“Yes.  He then told me that he is going to give me one more chance to give him the money, but I have to give him an additional fifty thousand because I screwed up.  I don’t think he knows that the police are involved.  If he did, I don’t know what would happen to my daughter,” Mrs. Bennett paused to wipe the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.  “That’s why I didn’t go to the police.  I didn’t want to find my daughter dead in a park somewhere. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”  Mrs. Bennett was shaking now.  She looked pleadingly at the detectives. “Please, help me.”

Detective Logan reached over and put his soothing hand on her trembling one.  “It’s going to be okay Mrs. Bennett.  What else did he say?”

“He said he wants that man – Mr. Hubbard - to deliver the money to him.  He told me he wants to have the drop off this time on the Berkeley BART platform.  He wants to be on the North end and Mr. Hubbard on the South end.  He’s going to kill my daughter if he doesn’t get his money.  You have to get her back!”

“He wants Mr. Hubbard to drop off the ransom money?”

Mrs. Bennett closed her eyes.  “Yes.”

“And this is the entire story, right Mrs. Bennett?  You’re not holding anything back?”

Mrs. Bennett gazed at Detective Logan through tear-filled eyes.  “This is it.”

“Alright.” Detective Logan turned to Detective Hayden, who was already standing.  “Let’s go find Mr. Hubbard.”

~

            Neil was relaxing in his favorite Laz-y Boy chair.  He had decided to take a day off of work to clear his head.  That and he never, ever wanted to go to the BART station again.  Neil was just dozing off when, all of a sudden, there was a loud knock on the door.

            Neil, feeling as though somebody had just stolen his last chance at getting rest away, wiggled reluctantly out of his comfy chair and made his way to the door. 

            “Mr. Hubbard?” One of the men standing on his stoop said.  Neil nodded.  “Mr. Hubbard, I don’t know if you remember us, but we were the detectives who questioned you yesterday.  I am Detective Logan and this is Detective Hayden.  May we come in?”

            Neil hesitated.  “Look, my family is home.  I told you all that I know.”

            Detective Hayden put his foot in the doorway.  “We had some new details surface in this case.  Now, my partner here is asking you very nicely if we can come in, but I can guarantee you that if I have to ask to come in, it ain’t gonna be so nice.”

            Neil swallowed and said, “Are you going to arrest me?”

            “No, Mr. Hubbard.” Detective Logan grinned.  “But we do need your help.”

~

            “I do not feel comfortable with this.  I do not feel comfortable with this at all,” Neil whispered to the plain clothed Detective Logan standing next to him.  “I have a wife and three kids.  If anything happens to me, then I don’t know what they’ll-”

            “Shut up.  Stop being such a pussy.  If you blow your cover, then you’re really going to die,” Detective Hayden hissed as he passed Neil, pretending to look at the platform.

            “You can do this Neil.  You have to.  Remember, both Detective Hayden and I are right here with you.  There are also about ten plain-clothed cops strolling around on the platform.  If anything happens, we’ll deal with it.  Just stand here and wait.  They’ll signal to you.  Be cool.”

            Detective Logan strode about five feet away from Neil and sat down on a bench.  At the other end sat Detective Hayden.

            “Is this enough action for you?” Detective Logan said quietly to Detective Hayden.

            “Fuck no.  But it’s a start.”

            Detective Logan watched Neil over his book that he was pretending to read.  Neil stood on the platform uncomfortably shifting his weight back and forth, periodically lifting the briefcase he had in his hands to his chest then suddenly putting it back down at his side.  After five minutes of this routine, Neil suddenly stood rigid.  He stared directly in front of him.

            “Hayden, we got something.”

            “Yeah we do.  Two men are holding some girl’s hand, and the tall man is motioning to Neil,” Detective Hayden laughed.  “I can’t wait to beat these bastards’ heads in.”

            “Hubbard’s walking toward them,” Detective Logan narrated.  “Damn he is walking slowly.  He has got to be petrified.”

            “Poor little fucker.  He is about to be a hero and all he can think about is himself-”

            “I can’t see Neil anymore.  There’s a pole in the way.  I need you to tell me everything now.”

            Detective Hayden sneered.  “You must hate that.  Ok, Neil’s heading over to the men, they’re looking pretty nervous.  Kinda looks like they’re going to run.  I hope they do, I get more reason to fire this pistol--”

            “Hayden--”

            “Sorry.  Ok, he made it to the two men.  Now they’re talking.  Neil’s motioning to the case.” Detective Hayden paused.  “For some reason, the men aren’t taking it.”

            “Shit. They’re not?

            “No, not yet.  Take it you dirty sons of bitches. Take it…. Take it…. They took it. Go. Go. GO!”  With each ‘go’, Detective Hayden’s voice grew louder, and he sprang up from where he was sitting.  Detective Logan followed suit, jumping from his seat and pulling the pistol from it hidden location in his belt.  As he was running, he could see a very scared little girl and terrified Neil, crouching behind two officers.  An ugly, short, fat man was trying to outrun the police chasing him.  Detective Hayden stood directly in this man’s path, and tackled him.  Using all of his strength, Hayden wrestled the man to the ground, despite the man kicking and punching him in an effort to break free.  With two forceful punches to the stomach, the man stopped fighting back.  Hayden managed to handcuff him, and then proceeded to sit on him so that the perpetrator was unable to run away.  Nearby, a tall, slim man was already handcuffed and was being read his rights.  Detective Logan stood in front of Neil, ready to protect him if anything went wrong. 

            Neil grabbed his arm, “Detective, that man who’s being read his rights was the man who was standing behind me when I was at the change machine.  That’s him! The money was meant for him…” Neil trailed off in wonderment and disbelief. 

            “Officer,” Detective Logan turned to an officer standing near him.  “I want you to escort Mr. Hubbard and this lovely girl home.  I think both have families that are awaiting their arrivals.”  The officer nodded and led Neil and the girl away.

            Detective Logan watched them go then turned to find Detective Hayden beaming next to him. 

            “Didja see me? I tackled that guy’s ass.  And I got a few good punches in there too.  Its days like these that make being a detective so good.”

            “I’m glad you’re in a good mood.” Detective Logan pulled out his notebook.  “Because we have to go write the report.”

            Detective Hayden’s smile melted.  “You have got to be fucking with me.  Today? Now?  That shit is the most boring shit known to man.  Fuck that. I am not doing it.”

            “I am not fucking doing it by myself.  Do you know how much work that is?”

            Detective Hayden pressed his lips together and clenched his fists.  He then turned and scuffled up the stairs, muttering something under his breath.  Detective Logan flipped his notebook shut and followed him.