I first posted this story in 2016, but it’s still current.

You may have read Mitch Albom’s novel, The Five People You Meet in Heaven. With a wink and a nod to Mr. Albom, I now present The Five People You Meet in Hell. Sorry, it’s a blog not a novel – maybe later.
Okay, you screwed up and you know it. You are going to hell. No sweat, you say. You have many friends in hell, so you won’t be lonely. True. The company you keep puts you in hell. Here’s a clue; your enemies are there too, and they are waiting for you. Here are the five people who will meet you at the gates of hell when you arrive:

1. Your ex-girlfriend/ boyfriend and/or ex-spouse. Remember how you cheated on your significant other? You cheated. You lied about it. You confessed and promised never to do it again. Then you cheated again and lied again. You thought you got away this last time. Your ex knows what you did and will confront you in hell. What you don’t know is that you caused your ex to have a crisis about his/her sexuality. He/she blamed him/herself more than you. Your ex went into therapy. Finally, he/she had a sex change operation. Your ex then joined a commune to “find him/herself.” In a freak accident, your ex smoked some loco weed that looked like marijuana. It was fatal. With his/her dying breath, he/she swore revenge on you.

2. Your best friend from high school/college? You remember your best friend? You two vowed to be best friends forever. That was until you stabbed your BF in the back. You stole your BF’s girl/guy. You did it without a thought of how you hurt him/her. What you don’t know is that your BF had trust issue after that. He/she never trusted anyone again. He/she became very bitter and mean. With no friends, your BF sat alone at home watching reruns of Gillian’s Island. It wasn’t cable or satellite, because your BF did not trust the installer to show up at all. In a freak accident, your ex was killed by a flock of pigeons while feeding them.

3. Your old boss. You do remember your old boss? The one that didn’t give you that bonus or promotion. He said you did not achieve the goals he set for you. He said you wasted time playing games on the computer and taking naps in the stockroom. It was all true. What you don’t know is that he didn’t get a bonus or promotion either. Your failure caused him to fail too. Eventually, the company fired him for poor performance. He couldn’t get another job because he couldn’t get a referral. The industry blackballed him. He became homeless and wandered around aimlessly – without goals. In a tragic accident, he was cooked to death due to a malfunction in the heating grate he was sleeping on. Investigators found your name scribbled on the side of his cardboard box with the words, “I’ll see you in hell.”

4. Your old schoolteacher. You must remember your old schoolteacher – the one that you caused to have a nervous breakdown? She was a 30-year veteran but had never met anyone as bad as you. She even told you to your face if you ever go to hell, she will find you and kill you -- again. What you may not know is she gave up teaching and joined a street gang. For several years, she committed drive by shootings of students. When her eyesight failed, she retired to a rural area in Montana. A black bear killed her when she tried to spank it after it climbed into her apple tree. She thought it was you. The police found a picture of you with your eyes gouged out in her cabin.

5. Jack Hodges. You remember Jack Hodges? Probably not. Everyone remembers him as One-eyed Jack. Your mom always told you not to throw pencils but when Jack asked to borrow a pencil, you threw it. Sure enough, he lost an eye. That was bad enough, but what you don’t know was worst. People bullied and teased One-eyed Jack the rest of his life. He finally had enough and chose a life of crime. One day the police caught up with him, and he died in a hail of bullets. The police said that with his dying breath, he said it was all your fault.
​
So, have fun in hell.

sI know I published this before, but I love it. Enjoy.

It’s now official -- the F-word, or least that variation of it that ends in “er” is a racist word and politically correct and/or sensitive people can no longer use it. In a recent research study, an ethnic group called the F*#%erswas identified. Genealogists and biologists were surprised that this ethnic group survived so long without recognition as a distinct ethnic family.

Apparently, they have existed in plain sight for centuries all over the world. They blend in well since they are not of any distinct color nor do they have any distinguishing features. There are mother F*#%ers, father F*#%ers, little F*#%ers, and even stupid F*#%ers. The stupid, mother F*#%er, a much rarer variation, also exists.     
Many live and work in Washington D. C., but researcher found them in most state capitals. Many elected officials are F*#%ers. A disproportional number work for the DMV in most states. They seem to be attracted to jobs that require a great deal of red tape and bureaucracy. They are well suited for managerial positions. Few will acknowledge that they belong to this ethnic group, but there is no doubt that they are F*#%ers of one type or another.  
  
One researcher, who asked not to be identified for fear she might turn out to be a F*#%er, said she is happy the work to identify all the F*#%ers can now begin, because many of the F*#%ers don’t know they belong to the ethnic group of F*#%ers.    
 
We welcome this latest ethnic group and wish them well. In all fairness, it would not be correct to label someone as a F*#%er until the genealogists complete their work. However, many F*#%ers are self-evident by their lifestyle. Research will confirm this one way or another.    
​ 
PS. during my research, one of the genealogists checked my DNA, and it turns out that I am a F*#%er too. What a surprise. Who knew?

If you read my last post, then here’s the rest of the article. I wrote an exposé revealing the code of silence of the brotherhood of men. It is a little long for a blog, so I’m posting it in two parts. If you missed Parts 1, scroll down. Here is the last part.

Myth Number 9: When a sexy woman walks by, the first thing men look at is her butt.
The Truth: Simply not true. I think I can speak for all men when I say this. When a sexy woman walks by, the first thing I look at is the back of her head. Then I ask myself, “I wonder if she has a brain to go along with that really nice ass?”

Myth Number 10: Men are afraid of commitment.
The Truth: Also, not true. Men are not afraid of commitment – they’re afraid of women. All women scare the hell out of us.

Myth Number 11: Men like dogs better than cats.
The Truth: It’s not that men like dogs better than cats – they don’t. It’s just that men get excited and confused when women ask men if they would like a little “pussy.” The conversation never ends well. It is easier to talk about dogs, although they can be bitches too.

Myth Number 12: Men do not have close friends the way women do.
The Truth: This is another popular myth perpetuated by men. All men have a secret Facebook page. On that page, they have many friends including ex-girlfriends/wives, your sisters, and that good-looking divorcee next door.

Myth Number 13: Men don’t listen.
The Truth: I’m sorry. What were you saying?

Myth Number 14: Men are not sincere when they say they are “sorry and it won’t happen again”.
The Truth: Okay, there’s a nugget of truth in this myth. Let’s face it - men are stubborn. The truth is that by the time men finally get around to saying they’re sorry, they have forgotten what it is they’re sorry about, so they just say the words.

Myth Number 15: Men will cheat if given the opportunity.
The Truth: Okay, this is basically true. However, women must share part of the blame. If there were no women to cheat with, men would not cheat.

I hope this article helps to clear up the mystique that surrounds manhood and the bro code.

A few years ago, I wrote an exposé that blew the lid off the code of silence of the brotherhood of men. As a member of the male gender for as long as I can remember, I could no longer abide with the cover up and fraud that men have perpetuated upon women. At the risk of losing my subscription to Esquire Magazine, I debunked the myths and misconceptions of the mystique of manhood. It was a tell all, name names (like Thomas, Richard and Harry) and scandalous mea culpa. Sorry guys, but it was time. In case you missed it, I’m reposting it now. (Also. I don’t have anything else to post.) It’s too long for my usual blog, so I will post it in two parts. Here is Part 1.

Myth Number 1: Men leave the toilet seat up as a way of marking their territory.
The Truth: Men can’t remember to put the seat down. At an early age, men learn not to pee on the toilet lid and/or seat, so they remember to raise them. However, whenever men manage to get 80% of their urine into the toilet, they are so proud of themselves that they forget to put the seat down.

Myth Number 2: Men will never admit when they are wrong.
The Truth: Okay, I got nothing. This one is true. Wait! Did I just admit that I was wrong? Maybe there is something here. I’ll get back to you on this. Men don’t like to be embarrassed in front of women (not a myth).

Myth Number 3: Men have an unerring sense of direction and won’t admit when they’re lost.
The Truth: Men are no better at directions than women are. There, I said it! Why don’t men admit when they are lost and ask for directions? See Myth Number 2. When driving alone, men will seek out another brother and ask for directions. Some men will drive around for hours hoping their female passenger will recognize a landmark.

Myth Number 3: Men like to BBQ.
The Truth: This one is easy to debunk. Men like meat and will eat almost any meat whether it’s cooked or not. The truth is that since men came out of caves walking upright, fire has fascinated them. Sometimes men will go out and start the grill just to watch it burn without anything cooking.

Myth Number 4: Men are poor dressers.
The Truth: Not True! Men know how to dress. However, men do like to be the center of attention. The best way to do that is to wear something inappropriate. Men have been known to wear black socks with sandals just to get attention from significant others (and daughters).

Myth Number 5: Men don’t like Opera.
The Truth: Absolutely not true. Men admire opera. We thought her show was good, and her O Magazine has articles that even men can enjoy. Oh, wait. Did I say Opera? I meant to say Oprah. My bad. Sorry. Never mind.

Myth Number 6: Men have trouble expressing their feelings.
The Truth: Bull crap! Men have no problem expressing their feelings ...to other men. Whenever men gather in small groups for poker or golf, the conversation always turns to feelings. Men perpetuate the idea that they talk about women in these gathering, but it’s simply not the case. Men think that expressing feelings with women is a sign of weakness, so they don’t do it. In addition, it usually starts a long conversation, and men do hate long conversations.

Myth Number 7: Men are good at killing bugs and spiders.
The Truth: Another myth. Men are afraid of bugs and spiders too. People believe that since men are supposed to be hunters that they enjoy killing bugs. Men got over that a long time ago. They hate to be the one to kill them. In order to look heroic in front of women, men will stock and ritually kill pieces of lint and dust bunnies. I know some men that save those fake plastic spiders from Halloween and scatter them around the house. This goes back to men want to be the center of attention.

Myth Number 8: Men are better than women are at math and science.
The Truth: Not true. Women have the ability to multiply, and men can’t multiply. Case closed. 

I'll post the second part on Friday. Stay tuned. 

I enjoy watching TV shows like FBI, Chicago PD, SWAT and NCIS. If you are a fan, you know when the agents go undercover, they use ear buds that transmit and receive so they can communicate. Everyone knows that. So why is it that the mega-corporate outfits that are behind all the evil in the world never bother to check in their ears when they do a pat down? Surely, at least one employee has a TV and watches the shows. 
   
I would like to see one scene that follows the script below: 
   
KEN ENTERS. Ken: is a super undercover agent. Security stops him at the entrance of a meg-corporation (the one behind all evil in the world) after passing through the scanner.    

TINY sits at a desk in front of ken. She is a female ex-wrestler now working security.  

TINY: Sir, you just made my day.    

KEN: What seems to be the problem?    

TINY: Well, sir, our scanner indicated that you have a few items that you will have to leave here. You can pick them up when you leave the facility.    

KEN: Like what?

TINY: (chuckles) Let’s start with the pistol in your waistband.    

KEN: I have a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I have a constitutional right to bear arms.    

TINY: True. However, but we have the right to keep you out of this private property if you have a weapon. Surrender the piece or leave.    

KEN: (removes pistol and places it on the desk) Okay. I forgot I even had it.   

TINY: The other one too.  
 
KEN: What other one?   

TINY: The one strapped to your right calf.  
  
KEN: (Removes second pistol) Now I feel naked. 
   
TINY: I wish. We don’t allow cellphone either. Leave your cellphone.   
  
Ken takes out his cellphone and places it on the desk.     

TINY: Now the other one.   
 
KEN: What other one?    

TINY: The one strapped to your left calf.   
 
Ken removes the second cellphone.    
 
TINY: Our scanner indicates that you have ear buds.
    
KEN: No. No. That must be a false reading. I have nothing in my ears. 
   
TINY: If you insist. (yells) Max!    

ENTER MAXIMO, a former sumo wrestler now working security. He holds a large hand-held magnet to the side of Ken’s head. A small ear communication device pops out. He does the same to Ken’s other ear and another device pops out.    

KEN: Oh. You mean those?    

TINY: (giggling) Our scanner indicated that you have another device in your colon. Please remove that device too.    

KEN: Now that’s too much. That has to be a mistake.    

TINY: Okay, play it your way. Max!    

Maximo starts toward ken with the magnet.     

KEN: Oh, you know what? I think I am in the wrong place. I should be in the next building. I will just leave. Sorry for any inconvenience. Bye.    
​
TINY: God, I love this job.

This year I turn seven-five -- not looking forward to it. I’m already having memory issues. I’m trying to deal with them. Remembering things becomes a challenge as we get older -- I understand that. My memory was never very good anyway. Many, many years ago my wife gave me a birthday card. I thought it was funny so I laughed. She said that she couldn’t do it anymore; she had given me that same card ten years in a row. I told my family to raise a finger for each time they heard a joke was about to repeat. Many times they raised both hands and flashed ten fingers at me. The other day I told a joke and screwed up the punch line -- a rare thing for me.

In my experience, there seems to be three types of memory lost: the first is a total loss of memory of particular names, events or scheduled events; the second is a mixed match of memories (not remembering correctly or mixing two or more separate events together); and finally, false memories (remembering things that never happened – duh).

To help myself remember (total loss) or remind myself of future events, I post notes to remind myself, mark up my calendar and use visual aids. I put them on my computer, refrigerator, and kitchen counters. I even put outgoing mail near the door where I’ll see it as I leave the house. I do struggle with names, but I always did. I often run into a person I haven’t seen for a while and can’t remember their name. I have on a couple of occasions, let the dog out and forgot to let her back in. She growled at me for two days. I don’t mind so much forgetting some events; somethings are better off forgotten.

Sometimes I would relate antidotes about friends only to be corrected and told I had the wrong person in the story or got the facts wrong. Now when I tell a story, I just say it happened to someone I know. Years ago, I told one humorous story to so many people that when I ran into the subject of the story and was told it wasn’t him but was someone else, I asked him not to tell anyone.
What I really hate is remembering things that never happened. For example, I was trying to remember if I took my morning meds and decided that I did. Later, I discovered that I hadn’t taken them. I was remembering something that never happened. Sometimes my wife will ask if I saw a particular TV show or movie and I’ll say I did only to discover later that I hadn’t seen it at all – a false memory.
​
As we grow older, our memories are often the best things we have. I hate losing them. They say the memory is the second thing to go as you get old. I forgot what the first thing was. I thought I’d better write this article before I forgetaboutit.

​I read an article in my news feed from BestLife written by Lauren Gray, “If Your Partner Has These 4 Qualities, They’re More Likely to Cheat on You.”  She wrote that researchers found that men were more likely to cheat than women, and both men and women who had a history of cheating in other relationships were more likely to cheat in their present relationship. With those facts as a given, she went on to say that partners with these four qualities are most likely to cheat:

1. They're not fully satisfied in their relationship.
2. They have some positive associations with affairs.
3. They have other potential partners available to them.
4. They aren't fully committed to their relationship.

As with all lists, I think she missed a few other qualities or indicators of a significant other who is prone to cheat. Here are my additional qualities that cry out “Cheater”.

1. They come home wearing someone else’s underwear.
2. They use an unfamiliar safe word during sex.
3. They call you by another’s name.
4. They tell you they must work late even though they’re unemployed.
5. They have the smell of an unfamiliar perfume/aftershave on them.
6. You find someone’s underwear in the glove compartment.
7. They use a new technique and unfamiliar during sex.
8. They bring you flowers for no apparent reason.
9. They get dressed up just to go to Walmart or Costco.
10. They smell like cigarettes even though they don’t smoke.

If you notice any of these signs, they might be prone to cheating. 

“It’s really simple; I just point the pistol at your head and pull the trigger.”

“I mean,” Shirley continued.

“how could you leave your daughter? She’s just a child.”

“Are you serious?”

“Shirley,” Shirley corrected her.

“You’ve met her. She’s a miniature bitch. She’s a demon from hell sent to torment me. My husband can deal with her. I’m through.”

“So you and Hugh are flying to Haiti to live off the ransom money?” Dick asked.

“That’s the plan. As soon as he starts the engines, I’m going to kill you two. Do you have any last words, a goodbye kiss maybe?”

Dick turned toward Shirley. “I do. Shirley, honey, I lied; I did sleep with that blonde in vice. I’m sorry.”

“I knew it!” Shirley yelled. “I knew those weren’t your panties. Those were hers, weren’t they?”

“No, honest, they’re mine. Men’s underwear is just too hot for my jewels. Panties are much more comfortable.”

Shirley turned away from Dick as far as the handcuffs would allow. Mary asked, “What about you sugar-cakes, any last words for lover boy?”

“I’m not talking to him,” Shirley answered.

Mary laughed. “So that’s it? Your dying words are, ‘I’m not talking to him.’ You two are pathetic.”

Dick said, “You won’t get away with it. The authorities will arrest you when you land in Haiti and confiscate the money. You’ll never spend a dime.”

Mary shook her head.” Wrong, lover boy. As soon as the plane touches down, I’ll kill Hugh and tell the police he kidnapped me, and I killed him in self-defense. They’ll have to give me the money, since it belongs to my husband and me. I just won’t return home.”

Shirley said, “Sounds like the perfect crime, but you made one small mistake.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “He’s standing behind me, isn’t he?” Mary turned to see Hugh standing behind her with a pistol pointed at her.

Hugh laughed. “You better believe I am.” Mary raised her pistol, pointed it at his head and pulled the trigger. “Click,” the hammer echoed on an empty chamber. “Looking for these?” Hugh pulled several bullets from his pocket. “I thought you might pull something like this, so I removed the bullets.” Shirley looked at Dick who shrugged his shoulders. Before Mary could say another word, Hugh struck her across the face with his pistol. She collapsed down on the floor next to Dick and Shirley, her split lips bleeding. “A slight change in plans. I’ll be landing alone.”

Shirley sat up and said, “Hugh, don’t do this. You didn’t hurt Kaitlin. Just let us go and fly away with the money.”

Hugh laughed. “Yeah, right. You’ll notify the police in Haiti and they’ll arrest me once my plane touches down. I have just one small detail to take of before I kill you.” He held his hand toward Dick. “The remote, please.”

Dick removed the remote from his pocket and handed it to Hugh. He raised it, pointed it toward the overhead door and pushed the button. A large boom shook the hanger. The remote had exploded in his hand, blowing off his thumb and two fingers. Hugh dropped his gun and dropped to the floor holding his bleeding left hand – blood squirting everywhere.

Immediately, Mary leaped on Hugh. Dick and Shirley jumped up and rushed toward their pistols – both forgetting about the handcuffs. The cuffs slowed them down. “This way!” Dick yelled. “I need to get my gun.”

Shirley yelled back, “Mine is closer!”

Dick changed directions so Shirley could reach her gun. Then she followed him to retrieve his gun. Dick found the keys to the cuffs and unlocked them. They both looked up to see Mary standing behind Hugh. She had managed to get him on his feet and now had her left forearm around his neck and held his pistol to his head in her right hand.

“Drop your weapons or I’ll kill him,” Mary demanded.

Dick and Shirley looked at each other and then back at Mary. “Here’s the deal,” Dick started to explain. “We don’t really know this guy. We’re not related to him. We don’t care if you shoot him.”

Mary shouted back, “You’re supposed to protect the public!”

Shirley laughed. “He’s a drug smuggler. Killing him would be a public service. Go ahead and kill him and we’ll kill you. No one’ll know. Pure and simple. We’re not dropping our guns.”

“This is bullshit,” Dick said. Then he shot Hugh in the leg. Mary couldn’t hold Hugh’s weight as he slipped to the floor screaming.

“You shot me, you jerk!” Hugh screamed.

“Now drop your gun or I’ll shoot you,” Shirley said.

“Shit! You win,” Mary said as she let the pistol drop to the floor. When the weapon hit the floor, it discharged striking her in the foot.

Dick and Shirley both laughed. “Karma’s a bitch,” Shirley said with a grin.

A voice boomed from the PA system in the hanger, “Hey, guys. Can you hear me. It’s me, Ralph.”

Both Dick and Shirley answered, “Yeah, we hear you.” They began looking around.

Ralph said, “Over here. In the corner –the security camera. I hacked into the security system of the airport. I’ve been watching the whole time.”

Dick and Shirley looked toward the camera high in the corner. Dick asked, “Did you cause that explosion?”

“Yeah, that was me. I took the liberty of installing an explosive device inside the remote in case Hugh got his hands on it. Once you handed it to him, I detonated it remotely. Neat, huh? Back up should be there in three minutes along with an ambulance. The airport security is coming through the front door now. See you back here at headquarters.”

Dick and Shirley turned to see airport security driving up to Hugh’s plane and surrounded it. A shout caused them to turn and see Tim running towards them leading a SWAT team. He arrived out of breath. “Great job, Richard and Shirley.”

Dick whispered to Shirley, “Did he just remember our right names?”

Shirley nodded her head. “He must have seen the security tapes.”

“By the way,” Tim said. “I had Ralph check Bill Smyth’s financial records, credit card transactions, tax records, e-mails and telephone logs. He did call his accountant, but he called him a week before the kidnapping. Apparently, the Smyths planned this whole thing. They’re con artists. They planned to kill Hugh Watt and live in Haiti on the five million. Turns out, it wasn’t his money after all; it came from a hedge fund he managed. He’s already in custody and confessed. You two go ahead and get cleaned up. We’ll finish up here. I’ll see you back at headquarters.”

As they left the hanger, Shirley whispered, “Why did you shoot Hugh? What were you thinking?”

“Actually, I was trying to shoot Mary. You know I’m a poor shot.” As they hiked back to their car, Dick said, “You know, back there, what I said; I was just stalling. You know that, right?”

Shirley didn’t look at him or break her stride. “So it wasn’t true? Is that what you’re saying?”

Dick cleared his throat, “Yes and no.” Now Shirley stopped in her tracks. Dick continued, “I did sleep with her, but I never cheated on you. It was before you and I started dating. I love you.”

Shirley said, “Now don’t get all mushy on me.” She leaned in and kissed Dick. “By the way, I had Jones find those security tapes and erase us from them.”

“So… he watched them?”

Shirley laughed. “I guess he had too, but he made a copy for me and destroyed all the rest.” She held up a thumb drive. “I thought we could watch it when we get home.”

Dick smiled. “Great! I’ll make popcorn.”
​
THE END

“Damn,” Tim said shaking his head. “I guess we have to release the Munsters. I know someone’s lying, but we can’t prove it… yet. We have nothing to hold them on except maybe child abuse. Let them go. Let’s find Hugh Watt.” He turned on his heel and marched off.

Ralph stopped Dick and Shirley in the hall. “Who are the Munsters?” Without waiting for an answered, he continued, “I found out something.” He pulled the remote garage door opener from his pocket. “I’ve been trying to figure out this number on the back. Remotes don’t have serial numbers, and it’s too short for a phone number. I tried locker combinations, bank accounts, …”

“Come on, Ralph,” Shirley interrupted. “We don’t have time for this. Get to the bottom line; what did you find out?”

“Well, it’s a tail number for a small twin-engine aircraft.”

“And I suppose it’s a bogus number?” Dick asked.

“Well, yes and no, the number is to an aircraft shot down in Vietnam during the war. Drug smuggler and the CIA like to use the real tail numbers of old planes no longer in service; makes them harder to trace.”

“So, it’s of no help?” Shirley asked.

“I checked with the FAA. All planes in the US have to file a flight plan before they take off -- that can’t be faked. So I hacked into the FAA data base and found a flight plan with this tail number. The plane is located at a small airfield in the suburbs. The remote opens the overhead doors on the hanger. Here’s the address.” Ralph handed Dick the remote along with a print out with the address on it. “Just promise me, if you find Hugh, call for back up. He could be armed and dangerous.”

“Thanks. Yeah, yeah, we’ll call you if we find the plane.”

It was late afternoon by the time Dick and Shirley arrived at the hanger. The hanger was two stories high with an overhead door wide enough for a small aircraft. The overhead door was open, and the lights inside were on. They could see an aircraft inside and someone loading suitcases into the plane. They approached the building with weapons drawn, found a rear entrance that wasn’t locked and made their way inside the hanger. The odor of aviation fuel permeated the air. The door opened to a hallway with small offices on either side. The hall was dark, so Shirley pulled out a pen light and turned it on. Dick turned on a flood light.

“WTF?” Shirley said in a loud whisper as she grabbed the light and turned it off. At the end of the hallway, she used a small pocket mirror to look around a corner into the main hanger area. “He’s in there,” she whispered to Dick. “He’s loading suitcases onto the plane. Should we call for back-up?”
“Hell no. The Captain has been on our case all week. If we call in back-up, he’ll come in with a SWAT team and take all the credit and blame us for something.  I say we bring this guy down ourselves. He’s alone and there’re two of us. We back up each other. I’ve got your six; you’ve got mine.”

“I won’t say yours is a six, more like a five or five and a half--max,” Shirley replied. “but he’ll see us or maybe hear us if we approach from this direction.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Dick removed the remote from his pocket. “I’ll close the overhead doors to distract him. The noise will cover our footsteps.” Dick held up three finger and then two.
“I know how to count, idiot. Just go and I’ll follow you.”

“You go and I’ll follow you. Like I said, I’ve got your six.”

“Fine!”

Dick triggered the remote and the overhead door started to close. Hugh dropped the two suitcases he was carrying and stared at the door. Dick and Shirley ran toward him and got within ten feet when he jerked around. “Freeze!” both Dick and Shirley yelled.
“Miami PD. On the ground. Now!” Shirley commanded. Hugh complied by laying on the floor with his hands on his head. “Cuff him,” Shirley ordered Dick. Dick took out his hand cuffs, put them on Hugh, and then helped him stand up.

“Planning a trip to Haiti with five million, are we?” Dick asked.

“Yes, we are,” a voice behind the detectives answered. “Now you freeze.” Dick and Shirley turned around to see Mary Smyth pointing a pistol at them. “Drop your guns and take off those cuffs.” Dick and Shirley dropped their guns, and Dick took the cuffs off of Hugh. Hugh kicked the guns across the floor and under the aircraft. “Now finish loading the luggage and start the plane.” Both Hugh and Dick started toward the plane. “Not you, dick-head.” Dick and Hugh both stopped. Mary rolled her eyes. “Hugh, you finish loading the plane and start the engines. You,” pointing at Dick. “get over by sugar-cakes.”

“What are you planning to do with them?” Hugh asked.

“We’ll have to shoot them. I’ll use the plane’s engines to drown out the gunshot noise.”

“Here, use this one. It has a silencer.” Hugh removed a pistol with a silencer from his waist band. and handed it to Mary. “We’ll take the bodies with us and drop them from the plane into the Caribbean. I know a place where sharks feed.”

“Good plan.” Mary kissed Hugh, and he picked up two suitcases and headed for the plane. Mary looked at the two detectives. “Well, well, if it isn’t detectives Dick-head and Lacey.”

“Shirley,” Shirley corrected her.

Mary smiled. “You know, I thought there was something going on between you two. You’re more than just partners, aren’t you? Let’s make it official. Put the cuffs on you both.” Shirley put the handcuffs on her wrist and then on Dick’s wrist. “Now isn’t that sweet? You’re now engaged. You can thank me later.”

“How could you?” Shirley asked.
​
The End of Part Nine.