A DOCTOR VISIT
By James von Feldt
All Rights Reserved
Well Brett, sounds like things are going well. Hope your car holds up on the trip you’re planning. Should be a lot of fun. Enjoy the sunshine.
I saw your folks at the wedding. Everything went well – as expected. It was held in the town hall which is on a small lake. Very nice building to be married in. You probably heard; I was the Best Man. Didn’t expect that but was told ahead of time so I was prepared.
Our town is quiet these days. The weather is warm then cold, then warm again; typical for this time of year. It’s almost time to start receiving the seed catalogs. That makes me start thinking about what I’m going to grow this year. Probably the same as last year.
Ray Dinkins ran into some excitement recently.
You remember Ray, he’s the laid-back, retired guy from Chicago that lives in the house on Lincoln Street - across from Frosties place. Well, he was over at the Gas & Grill and told Vickie the whole story. I was there later with Frosty and pastor Zook when she related the tale.
Seems like he had a doctor’s appointment in Des Moines at the VA Clinic last Thursday morning. He had to get up early. It’s a long drive to Des Moines but he was making good time getting there. He drove route 163 like most people around here, and since he had been there several times before, he knew a shortcut.
He took the 31st street exit off of I-235 to go north to the Clinic. He said that he went about ten blocks, and as he approached Drake University, he noticed a lot of students on the lawn milling around. He didn’t think much about it until a young man darted in front of him gesturing wildly. He slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop almost hitting the kid. Immediately, out of nowhere another kid opened the passenger door and jumped in the car. He had a gun pointing at Ray.
Ray said he passed out. Next thing he knew he was tied up, a gag in his mouth and a sack over his head. He didn’t know where he was or what had happened. He was laying on a seat of some sort but it was not long enough to stretch out on.
He heard voices. There were several people in a conversation. One person, an older one, was giving instructions of some kind. A younger voice replied. Another voice asked questions but Ray couldn’t make out what they were saying.
A door slammed and Ray heard footsteps coming towards him. He decided to play like he was still out. The door opened. He was in a car.
“Check him,” a voice said.
Somebody placed a hand on Ray’s neck to get a pulse.
“He’s alive,” a young voice responded.
“Get him out of there and tie him to that post.” The voice sounded, louder this time. It was a voice of a man, not a kid like the other voices.
The other car door opened. There was another person. At least two kids were struggling to get him out of the car and onto the floor. They dragged him to a post in the building and untied his hands which were behind him, then re-tied his hands over his head, behind the post. Someone tested the ropes to make sure they were tight.
“Open the door,” the older voice commanded.
Hinges squeaked, and a big door made scraping sounds as it opened. Without another word, people piled into the car. The doors slammed. Tires squealed as they started out. Finally, the big door was closed and the car drove off. Ray was left on the floor, tied to the post.
When Ray was certain they were gone he started struggling with the ropes. It took a long time and his wrists were raw from the twisting, but eventually, he got them loose. He took the sack off his head. He was in a dark warehouse of some kind. The gag came off and he could breathe easier.
When he stood up, he was dizzy and held onto the post until he steadied himself. His high blood pressure was acting up again. Looking around he saw a short wall and a door. Ray walked unsteadily to the door. It was an old office. A desk was in the middle of the room. Two metal folding chairs were nearby. He sat down in a chair to think and to get his wits about him.
There was no window in the office. Ray was upset and his heart was pounding. He took deep breaths and slowly exhaled as the doctor had told him to do.
Time passed as Ray tried to get a plan together. There had to be a way out, he thought.
The office was very dark. The warehouse room was a bit lighter. Small cracks of light were coming from around one side of the big door. Ray went to the door and tried to open it. It was locked from the outside. He couldn’t budge it. Then he noticed a normal door across the warehouse on an opposite wall. When he got to it, he found that it was locked with a chain. That’s when he spotted the stairway.
The stairway went up to a balcony. When he got to the top of the stairs, he found boxes thrown here and there. He wandered along an old wooden guard rail then sat down to rest on a box.
Ray must have fallen asleep because screeching tires woke him up. Then he heard an approaching car or something in a terrible hurry.
The big door crashed to the floor as a car smashed it flat, with a blaze of light following. The car came to a squealing stop, with broken car parts and pieces of the door flying everywhere. Two figures jumped out of the car and headed to the stairs. Other cars squealed to a stop just outside the door. Car doors slammed and voices were heard.
As soon as figures appeared at the open doorway, the guys on the stairs began to shoot at them. Ray was hiding behind boxes but he could see the whole thing. When the guys ducked behind the doorway, the other guys went a few more steps up the stairs. Soon they were on the balcony shooting at the guys at the door.
Ray was on the floor, as low as he could get. He said that’s when he started praying.
It seemed like both sides were shooting at each other for an eternity but eventually, the police showed up. He heard yells: “Police. Throwdown the guns.”
The shooting stopped. Several patrol cars and policemen had shown up.
They captured the shooters outside the door first, then came into the warehouse with strong flashlights. The guys on the balcony were now hiding behind boxes.
“Up here,” Ray yelled and stood up so they could see him.
“He saw one guy behind a box glaring at him, gun in hand,” he said.
Four policemen came up the stairs cautiously. The two guys on the balcony got out from behind boxes and raised their hands. The policemen handcuffed them. Ray started to walk toward them and a policeman yelled in an angry voice, “Stop where you are.” He froze, then started to explain his situation.
“Shut up, you can talk at the station,” was the reply.
Ray was handcuffed, put in a patrol car, taken to jail, and interrogated as if he were one of the gang members.
He told them his name and address but had no identification. His wallet, driver’s license, cards, and phone were gone. The other guys would not admit to taking them. The Police kept calling him Jake. He kept correcting them. “No, my name is Ray,” he would say. Then they would say, “Prove it.”
He couldn’t. Furthermore, Ray didn’t know anyone in Des Moines.
“For a long time, I couldn’t think,” he said. “Then it came to me. The Junk Yard. Bruce. We go to the men’s bible study every Wednesday morning. He can vouch for me.”
Everybody in our county knows Bruce, but Ray didn’t have his telephone number.
Luckily, someone at the police station had bought used parts at the junkyard. They tracked down Bruce’s telephone number and called him. He verified Ray as a friend but the police were not buying it. Then Bruce called a friend who is a lawyer in Des Moines. The lawyer showed up that evening and worked on Ray’s bail papers but couldn’t process them. Ray stayed in jail that night.
Friday morning Ray was released. Bruce and John picked him up at the police station. After razzing Ray for being in jail, they went to the warehouse and took pictures of the wrecked car, then called his insurance agent.
It took a week, but the lawyer got the full story. Seems like the police knew what was going on and were watching the warehouse. They were after the gang and especially an older man named Jake, who they say was the ring leader. Jake got away. They say he just disappeared. One of the gang members confessed to the carjacking and robbery. All the charges were eventually dropped against Ray.
The last thing Ray told Vicki was; “Next doctor’s appointment will be at the VA in Chicago. I’ll be safe there.”
So that’s it for now.
From where the corn grows tall and pigs fly.
Take care.
All my love.
Grampa Jim