Mafia Mix-Up

By Gabe Bennett

Ring! Ring! "This is Jim Rockford, at the tone, leave your name and message and I'll get back to you."

*beep* "Good afternoon Mr. Rockford, this is the Ocean View Cable Company, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that you have been selected for the honor of an in-home test of our basic cable service. Everything has been prearranged and you will be billed accordingly after a visit by one of our friendly installation experts in the next 24 hours. Have a nice day."

*beep* "Hey Jimmy, it's your old pal Angel! I just wanted to tell ya, if anyone knocks on your door in the next hour or so, whatever you do, don't answer!"

***********************************************************
The inside of the semi-trailer was dark, save for one light hanging above a desk with four men huddled around it in the back. "Okay Mr. Martin, you've got yourself a deal," said the head Mafia hit man seated behind the desk.

Angel breathed a sigh of relief, of all the cons he'd pulled over the years, this had to be the most dangerous. "Frankie, show Mr. Martin what we got him for Christmas," the mobster said turning to one of the two massive bodyguards behind him.

The underling grunted, picked up a gunnysack on the floor behind him and dumped it on the desk in front of Angel. Stacks of twenty-dollar bills cascaded out of the bag. Angel's face lit up. "Twenty grand, that's what we agreed on, ain't it? Your boss ain't gonna go and get
greedy on me is he?" the mob-boss said with an edge to his voice.

"Oh no, uh, this is just fine," Angel said, almost unable to speak, his eyes never leaving the small fortune sitting in front of him.

"Good, people that double-cross me don't live very long afterwards, remember that." Angel hurriedly scooped the stacks of bills into the gunnysack and started for the exit.

"Hey, what's your boss's name anyway?" The mobster called after him. "If he comes through on this deal, gets me my guns on time, I just may have a future use for him."

Angel stopped short; this was not something he had counted on. "Uh, here, let me give you his card," said Angel, fumbling around in his pocket for one of the many false business cards he carried. Finding one he tossed it to the mob-boss, hurried out of the large swinging doors in the rear of the trailer and into the night.

The mob-boss looked at the card in his hand. "Jim Rockford, Private Detective, eh?"

*************************************************************

Angel had been really proud of himself when he had left the trailer and was halfway across town when the realization of what he had done sank in fully. The smile left his face, "Oh my goodness, I just took the mob for twenty-thousand smackers!" he said aloud, eyeing the gunnysack sitting in the passenger's seat beside him. Suddenly the mobster's words echoed in his mind: "people that double cross me don't live very long afterwards, remember that"

"Oh, no! What am I gonna do now?! When those guns don't show up tomorrow morning, he'll have every hit man in LA looking for me! I'm a goner!" He cursed himself for his stupidity and headed for home, hoping he had enough time to pack what he could and get out of town before 10 o'clock the next morning.

*************************************************************

"Hey Johnson, what do we got here?" The front desk officer asked the beat-cop, pointing to the handcuffed, trench coat-clad individual in front of him, noticing the numerous scrapes and cuts on his face.

"DUI, picked him up down in the red light district after he rear-ended an old lady at a stop sign. The accident was bad enough, but it turns out the car he was driving was stolen from a Santa Monica show room," Johnson answered. "Found these on him during the pat-down." He handed the front desk cop a wallet and a .38 caliber snub-nose. "Oh, and this too," he said, and handed him a business card.

The front desk cop looked at the card. "Yeah, put him in number-five," he said. Johnson walked away with the suspect in tow. Picking up the phone the front desk cop dialed Lt. Diehl's extension. "Lieutenant Diehl? This is Faulkner at the front desk, I've got something here I think you should come and take a look at," he said and hung up.

*************************************************************

The next day at 2 p.m. a cable van pulled into the driveway of Jim's house trailer in the Paradise Cove Trailer Court. Jim's father Rocky who had been inside watching TV and waiting for his son to come home saw them get out of the van and opened the door of the trailer. "Hey! You're here to install the cable! Alright! Now I can watch the Superbowl in style!" He said, coming out to meet them.

The taller of the two cable guys reached into his jump suit and pulled out a .45 semi-automatic. "No old man, I'm here to install you! We either get our money back or you get a permanent vacation! Now get in the van or you're gonna be eatin' a bullet for dinner," he said, pointing the gun at Rocky. "Joey grab him!" the kidnapper motioned to his accomplice, the black man standing on the right side of the van.

Rocky tried to run, but didn't get more than a few feet before Joey grabbed the back of his Hawaiian shirt and tackled him, knocking Rocky's favorite hat off of his head. The creep with the gun pulled the hammer back. "No more funny stuff old man!! I mean it!! You try to run just one more time and I'll kill ya!!! Now get in the van!!" he yelled.

"You ain't getting away with this. My son's a detective, he'll find you so quick your head'll spin!" Rocky promised.

"Not if he knows what's good for him he won't! Enough talk, now move it!!" the creep retorted. The two kidnappers shoved Rocky into the back of the van and tied him up.

"Oh, I almost forgot something," Joey said, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out an old bandanna. "Bon appetit, hope ya enjoy it old man," he said, shoving it into Rocky's mouth and laughing at him. Rocky gave the kidnappers a damning look as they exited the rear of the van and headed toward Jim's trailer.

"The boss said to turn that trailer upside down till we find the stash. I'll start with the living room and kitchen, you start with the bedroom," said the creep with the gun.

"Right Jake," said Joey.

*************************************************************

It was two hours later and Jim Rockford had just finished a particularly tiring case. He was $600 dollars richer and looking forward to a long period of R&R, maybe a fishing trip with Rocky? He pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine. The fishing could wait; right now all he wanted was a hot cup of coffee.

Getting out and walking toward his trailer he noticed something lying on the walk in front of him. It was Rocky's favorite cap, the one he never went anywhere without. Jim picked it up and looked at it, it was not like Rocky to just drop it and leave it lying there. Upon reaching his front door and finding it half way open, his suspicion was confirmed: someone had been there and taken Rocky with them.

Jim pulled his gun out and went inside. The trailer looked as if a cattle stampede had taken place inside it. His couch was overturned, the TV set had been taken apart, the refrigerator doors were open and all the shelves pulled out. The kitchen trash was strewn all over. The cabinet doors were also open and there were broken dishes everywhere. The oven wasn't in much better shape, and every light fixture in the trailer had been pulled down. Someone had even rummaged through his desk and turned it over. Basically, they had torn the inside of his trailer to pieces.

At that point, Jim didn't care, all he cared about was finding his father. "Rocky! Are you in here?! Rocky?!" he called, but was greeted with silence.

Suddenly the phone rang causing him to jump. He picked up the phone
from under his overturned desk. "Hello?!"

"Sonny, it's me, I've--"

"Rocky? What happened? Th--"

"Jim Rockford?" said another man's voice on the other end, interrupting him.

"Who is this?!" Jim demanded angrily.

"I think you know who this is. And I'm gonna tell you what I told that thieving little weasel associate of yours: People that double cross me don't live very long afterwards. You've got 3 days to give me both my money and my guns or I freakin' blow the old man's head off!!!" the man told him, his voice taking on a violent tone.

"What are you talking about?!" Jim exploded.

"Don't play dumb with me, you know exactly what I'm talking about! You'd better come through on this Jimbo, and NO police! You talk to the cops, and Pappy here is as good as dead!!!" The man hung up. Jim hung up the phone and set it down, slowly turning away.

Jim turned his old leather chair upright and sat down. He had no idea what was going on. Last time he checked, he'd paid most of his bills and he was pretty sure he'd remember making something as serious as a gun deal with some big-time operators.

The phone rang again. Jim was in no mood to talk to anyone right now-especially if it was the kidnappers again-and let the machine answer. *beep* "Jim, it's Dennis; pick up if your there. We need to talk, get over here ASAP."

Remembering what the man on the phone had said about not talking to the cops, Jim groaned. "you talk to the cops, and Pappy here is as good as dead" Dennis couldn't have called at a more inopportune time. "Murphy's law at work," he said under his breath.

The phone rang again ten minutes later: it was Dennis. *beep* "Jim, I know you're in there, and unless you want us to come looking for you, I suggest you get over here now," Becker said in a no-nonsense voice.

Jim picked up the phone. "Fine Dennis, I'm coming, ya happy?" he said gruffly, thinking about what might happen to Rocky if the kidnappers found out he had been talking to Dennis.

"Be here in fifteen minutes or I'll have a black-and-white out looking for you," Dennis said and hung up.

Jim slammed his phone down angrily, sometimes that man could be so impossible. With a resolute sigh, Jim went outside and got in his Firebird. Slamming the door closed, he sat there for a moment trying to make sense of all the calamity.

*************************************************************

"Alright Dennis, I'm here! Now what do you want?!" he said when he arrived at police headquarters. Dennis just pointed toward Lt. Diehl's office, never even looking up from the report on his desk. Jim frowned. Lt. Thomas Diehl was not his favorite person in the world, and the feeling was more than mutual. "As if I don't have enough trouble," he grumbled and walked toward the office door.

*************************************************************

"Well Rockford, I see you've started playing with the big boys," Diehl said, an accusatory look on his face.

"What?" Jim said in surprise.

"Last night we pulled in a Mafioso type on a DUI; had your business card in his wallet. Now are you gonna tell me what's going on, or am I gonna have to throw ya in the cooler for the next 24 hours?" Jim's expression turned grim.

"Look Diehl," Jim started.

"That's Lieutenant Diehl to you!"

"Fine, Lieutenant, I don't know what kind of game you're playing here. And I don't have any idea what you're talking about. So if you're just gonna waste my time, I'll just be on my way," Jim said and turned to leave.

"Not so fast Rockford," Diehl called after him. Jim stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I've got an ATF agent on the way here from Washington. He'll be here in the morning," he continued. "In the meantime Jimbo, you'll be staying as a guest of the LA County jail."

"Now wait just a darn minute!" Jim said, turning around to face him. Diehl motioned to a nearby uniformed cop.

"Mackenzie, take Mr. Rockford upstairs and book him," he told the cop.

"On what charge?!" Rockford demanded angrily.

"Suspicion of trafficking illegal arms, suspicion of aiding and abetting a known felon, suspicion of conspiracy, and that's just for starters," Diehl told him, a twinge of satisfaction clearly evident in his voice.

"Sir, would you come with me please? You have the right to remain silent" the young officer began.

*************************************************************

After being booked, Jim called his lawyer and sometimes girlfriend Elizabeth Davenport from the payphone in the cellblock. "Look Beth I don't know what's going on. Supposedly they arrested some Mafia henchman last night and he had my card in his wallet. Now Diehl's throwing the book at me with a bunch of trumped-up charges."

"Why don't you take a deep breath and start at the beginning."

Jim sighed. "All I know is that when I got home this afternoon, the trailer had been ransacked, Rocky was gone, and I got a phone call from someone who said they wanted their guns and their money in three days or they're gonna kill him."

"Slow down Jim, do you know for sure if they have your father or not?" she said.

"Yeah, he was the one on the phone when I answered, before they cut him off and started making demands."

"Do you know what the kidnappers were talking about?"

"What kind of a question is that?! Of course I don't know what they're talking about! Do you
think I'd be in here if I knew that?!"

"Time's almost up," said the policeman standing behind him.

"I've got to go," Jim said.

"Alright, I'll try to have you out by tomorrow morning. Bye," Beth said, hanging up.

Jim sat in his cell all night long worrying about Rocky and trying to figure out who could've caused the whole mess. A sudden thought came to him as he remembered the kidnapper's words: "I'm gonna tell you what I told that thieving little weasel associate of yours: people that double-cross me don't live very long afterwards"

"Thieving little weasel," he repeated, replaying all the facts surrounding the case in his mind. Then he remembered the message Angel had left on his answering machine the night before. He was the one person Jim knew that could've done this. "I should've known, ANGEL!!!!" he groaned, realizing who had caused all the trouble.

*************************************************************

Meanwhile, at the freight dock of a trucking company across town, Rocky was facing troubles of his own in the back of a semi-trailer. "Where's the money, old man?!" the Mafia hit man screamed in his face.

Rocky strained at the ropes holding him to the chair. "Look, I tried to tell ya. I don't know anything about your money. I'm sure--" he started to tell him, when the mobster slapped him across the face. Rocky flinched.

"I'm getting really impatient with you old-timer, now WHERE IS IT?!"

"I don't know, alright?!"

"You just keep this in mind: I had better have my money back by the day after tomorrow old man, or you and your son are dead meat! Jake, stay here and guard him, the rest of you come with me." The head mobster exited the trailer with several of his henchman in tow, leaving the creep with the gun and Rocky alone.

*************************************************************

"Open number seven." The sound of a buzzer and the cell door sliding open woke Jim up the next morning. Officer Mackenzie stepped in. "Get your things Rockford, they're cutting ya loose," he said.

"Yeah, well it's about time," Jim replied gruffly, sitting up and stretching. The bed felt like it was made concrete, and despite his time in prison, sleeping on it all night only confirmed Jim's dislike for jail cells.

Getting up, he followed Mackenzie to the booking desk to reclaim his possessions. As he did, he noticed through an office window that Beth was talking to Diehl and a man in a federal agent's uniform.

"Well, thanks for coming down and getting me out, Beth," Jim said, once they were outside.

Beth sighed and looked at him. "Jim, it's not as simple as that. They weren't going to let you out, unless you agreed to cooperate fully with their investigation and report back to them with any new developments you might uncover," she told him.

Jim remembered what he saw in the station. "You cut a deal behind my back?!"

"It was either that or let you spend the next 5 weeks in jail. I'm afraid you're just going to have to bite the bullet on this one, Jim," said Beth.

"Oh, no. YOU agreed to it, NOT me. I've got to go find Rocky."

"And just how do you plan on getting home?" she asked, looking past him.

Jim turned around in time to see his Firebird being towed away, a parking ticket flapping under the windshield wiper.

*************************************************************

Beth's car came to a stop outside the Paradise Cove Trailer Court. "Thanks for the ride Beth, I'll get Rocky's truck and take it from here, I guess," Jim said, getting out.

"Be careful, will you Jim? You're dealing with the mob here, not a group of two-bit con men. And don't forget Diehl, he'll be after you the second he finds out you've taken off on him," said Beth.

*************************************************************

"Faulkner, this is Lieutenant Diehl. Put out an APB to our unmarked units on Rockford,possibly driving an orange '78 Pontiac Firebird, license number Adam Nora Lincoln 568. Tell them to tail him."

"Right Lieutenant."

*************************************************************

"Miller, our man in the DMV said Rockford drives an orange '78 Firebird, license number A-N-L 568. When you find that doublecrossing thief, bring him to me," the head mobster told his henchman.

"You got it boss."

*************************************************************

Digging through the mess that was once the interior of his trailer, Jim succeeded in finding the keys to Rocky's pickup parked outside. He was about to leave when someone knocked on the door. Jim opened it a crack, expecting to find the police or the mob. It was Angel.

Jim opened the door all the way and let him in. "Angel, what are you doing here?! Do you realize all the trouble I'm in because of you?!" he said harshly.

"I'm awful sorry about all that Jimmy, I was just--" the bearded con man started.

"Just what?! Start at the beginning Angel, I want to know who these people are, and why they think I have their money, now TALK!"

Angel sighed, and told him everything he had done.

"Angel of all the stupid things you've done since I've known you, this takes the cake! What where you thinking, ripping off the Mafia for twenty thousand dollars?! And then you gave them MY card?!" Jim said, getting angrier by the second.

"Honest-Injun Jimmy, I-I didn't know that was one of yours, I-I thought it was one of my fake business cards! You just gotta believe me, I mean--" Angel babbled.

Jim sighed wearily. "Angel, the day you do or say anything honest will be the day I die. If we live through this, I'm gonna kill you!" he said angrily, making a fist.

Jim began to pace. Angel followed him. "Aw, come on Jimmy, is that any way to talk to your bestest best buddy?"

"Angel!!" Jim said in an exasperated tone through clenched teeth. Jim stopped pacing and looked at him. "Did you know they kidnapped Rocky because of your stupidity?! Did you know that Angel?!" Angel hung his head.

"Where did you have your meetings with this Nick Mancini character?!"

"In the back of an old semi-truck along side the road," said Angel.

"Where?"

"A different place every time."

"What was the name of the trucking company?!" Jim asked, getting impatient.

"Uh, hmmm.. Uh.. it'll come to me, uh, uh," said Angel, stalling for time.

"ANGEL!!"

"Cannell Van Lines, it was Cannell Van Lines!"

"You sure?!"

"Positive!"

'Well, it's a start'. Jim thought.

Jim walked over to his overturned desk and began to dig through the debris surrounding it. Finding his phone book, he flipped through the yellow pages until he came to the names of all the trucking companies in the area. "Here it is: Cannell Van Lines, 1645 East Orange St., Burbank." Jim wrote the address on a slip of paper and reached over to check his answering machine.

*beep* "Jim, its Dennis, where are you?! Diehl's spittin' nails and this ATF guy's starting to think you skipped town on us! Call me, NOW."

*beep* "This is Lieutenant Diehl, you'd better show me some results by six o'clock tonight, Rockford, or you're going back in the jug!"

*beep* "Mr. Rockford, this is Agent McMasters with the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms. If you have any ideas about skipping town, you can forget about it right this minute, we'll be on you like glue before you can even get halfway to San Diego!"

Jim looked at his watch, 1:30. He had to act quickly. "I'm gonna go check out this place, Cannell Van Lines. You'd better not be here when I get back, and that dirty money had better end up with the police, that's all I've got to say," he told Angel, walking toward the bedroom to get some old clothes for a disguise.

*************************************************************

Jim brought Rocky's truck to a stop outside the offices of Cannell Van Lines and shut off the engine. Boy, what a dump! He thought, looking toward the rundown freight dock. Looking in the mirror, he double-checked his disguise: an old gray business suit he hadn't worn since who knows when, fake eyeglasses, and an LA Dodgers cap.

Jim walked up to the service window and rang the bell. A rough looking character appeared a few seconds later. "Yeah, what do ya want?" he said gruffly, looking Rockford over.

"Hi there, I'm Scooter Brannigan, president of Mermaid Tuna Incorporated," Jim began, smiling and extending his hand.

"So what?" the man said, making no attempt to return the gesture. Jim withdrew his hand.

"I'm in need of a trucking company to take our product to stores across the state, and I need to talk to your boss."

"Nobody sees Mr. Mancini," he said, looking Jim over again. "Especially not the likes of you!"

"You don't understand, I'm the president of Mermaid Tuna! This is worth big bucks!" Jim insisted.

"I don't care if you're the freakin' president of the United States! We're booked up solid for the next six months!"

"Could I get an appointment with your boss some time soon? Lunch perhaps?"

The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. "Look pal, I already told ya, nobody but nobody sees Mr. Mancini, NOW BEAT IT!!!" The rough looking character reached up and pulled down a shade with the word "CLOSED" painted across it in large black letters over the window.

Jim snorted. "Some customer service," he said under his breath, and walked around the side of the building to investigate the rows of semi-trailers parked behind it. As he wound his way through the trailers in the lot, he noticed most of them had seen better days. In fact, the majority of them had flat tires.

The sound of a door opening off to his left caught Jim's attention. Looking around a corner, he watched as the doors swung open in the rear of an old refrigerator truck, and several men in expensive suits stepped out. That had to be where they were holding Rocky! He waited until the men in the suits were out of sight and hurried over to the trailer.

Jim peeked through a hole in the side the trailer. Through the dim light inside, he could see Rocky tied to a chair and a mob henchman with a pistol guarding him. Jim heard a crunch in the gravel behind him; he turned around and was greeted by a fist in the face. Everything went black.

*************************************************************

When he finally awoke, Jim found himself tied to a chair inside the same trailer he had seen Rocky in. Jim groaned, it felt like someone had played basketball with his head. Slowly he opened his eyes and then squeezed them shut again, trying to make the throbbing in his head go away.

"You okay Sonny?" Rocky asked from the chair behind him.

"Yeah, I guess so, I could sure go for an aspirin though," Jim replied.

"Aw, the pain's nothing, lets you know you're alive."

"Yeah, unfortunately."

They sat there in silence for a few moments, when a sudden thought came to the elder Rockford. "Hey, I was wondering, do you still have that lucky piece I gave you that time we went fishing? Sure could use it now" he said, his voice trailing off.

Jim thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I never go anywhere without it, it's in my back pocket," he said, catching on. The so-called "lucky piece" was a Swiss army knife Rocky had given him on a fishing trip years ago.

"Hey guard!" Jim called to the creep with the gun. "One hundred bucks in my wallet, it's yours, all you have to do is untie me!"

The creep looked at him and shook his head. "Mr. Mancini said to tie you up and guard you, and only a fool would disobey the boss! But I'll take that money if you don't mind," he said.

The creep walked over and knelt down in front of him, attempting to remove Jim's wallet from his pants pocket. This was exactly what Jim had been counting on. In one swift move he kicked the unsuspecting henchman under the chin hard, knocking him out cold.

Straining at the ropes, Rocky reached in and pulled the knife out of his son's pocket. With his hands tied behind him, it took some doing to get the blade open and even longer to cut the ropes.

Jim looked at the passed-out hood in front of him and hoped he would stay that way long enough for them to escape. Rocky severed the last rope holding Jim's hands behind him and in a few moments they were both free.

Jim took the ropes and tied the mobster up to the chair. "I think I'll just keep that money, if you don't mind," he told the unconscious hoodlum.

*************************************************************

Jim brought Rocky's pickup to a stop outside of his home at the Paradise Cove Trailer Court. "Stay in the truck Rocky and keep the engine running, I've got a phone call to make," he said.

Jim went inside the trailer and dialed the number for Cannell Van Lines. Angel was long-gone, a good thing too, if Jim's plan worked, he'd have had an unpleasant reunion with his "friends" from the Mafia in about 20 minutes if he had been there. "Hello, Cannell Van Lines, Fred speaking."

"This is Jim Rockford, tell Mancini I've got a deal to make with him and to meet me at my place," Jim said and hung up.

He dialed another number.

"LAPD, Officer Faulkner speaking."

"Lieutenant Diehl please. Tell him it's Jim Rockford."

Diehl came on a few seconds later, mad as a hornet. "Alright Rockford, it's almost six! Where are you?! Hello?! Rockford!!!" he said into thin air. Jim left the phone off the hook and walked away.

Jim got back in the truck and turned to Rocky. "I could sure use a break right about now, what do ya say we drive up the coast for fish and chips?"

*************************************************************

"Jim, where are you? The police have called here several times over the last few hours looking for you!" Beth told him when Jim called her from the payphone on the restaurant's outdoor dining area.

"We're at a little fish and chips joint about seventy miles up the coast."

"We?! Who's we?" she asked in surprise.

"Rocky and me."

"Rocky?! You mean you found him?! That's great! Where was he?!"

"Hey Sonny! Food's here!" Rocky called to Jim.

"Yeah, okay I'll be right there!"He called to his father, then turned back to the phone. "Look, I'll tell you more later, just find out if those mob guys have been arrested and call me back. The number here's 805-555-8726," he told Beth.

"Okay, I'll be in touch," she said, hanging up.

Jim walked over and sat down at the table across from his father. "Beth's gonna find out if Mancini and company got picked up and call me back in a while," said Jim.

"Well, that's good."

"So exactly how did they manage to grab you?" Jim asked his father.

Rocky told him about the cable van, the two kidnappers, and Mancini's interrogation. "The whole time they had me, I wondered if you were gonna find me or if they were gonna kill you first," he finished.

Jim told Rocky about being arrested and having his car towed. "It really scared me coming home and finding your hat just lying there, and the trailer torn to shreds. And that phone call, well don't even get me started about that," said Jim.

"Well, sometimes these things happen Sonny, but that's all in the past. The important thing is, I'm here now." They ate in silence for awhile and watched the sun set out over the ocean.

About forty-five minutes later, the payphone rang. A waiter answered it. "Hello, Seabreeze CafÈ," he answered. "Uh, huh. All right, I'll get him. Call for Jim Rockford!" he yelled.

"That must be Beth," Jim told Rocky and walked toward the phone. "I'm Jim Rockford, you got a call for me?" he asked the waiter.

"Yeah, some gal named Beth Davenport, says it's urgent," the waiter replied, handing the phone to Jim.

"Hello?"

"Jim! You'd better get back here right away! Your place is crawling with cops!" said Beth.

"Did they get Mancini and the rest of those mob guys?!"

"Yeah, they just got him."

Jim smiled. "I'm on my way," he said, hanging up. "Come on Rocky, they got him," he called to his father.

*************************************************************

Jim and Rocky pulled up to the trailer in time to watch Mancini being loaded into the back of a squad car. He did not go quietly. With every step, and as he was being stuffed in the back, he let loose with a stream of obscenities and shot the two Rockfords a dark look as the LAPD cruiser pulled away with him in the back seat. "That takes care of him, I reckon,"
said Rocky.

Getting out of the truck, Jim and Rocky went into the trailer. Inside, Diehl and Agent McMasters were patting Angel on the back and congratulating him for "helping them solve the case." "Great work Mr. Martin," said Agent McMasters, shaking his hand. "You'll get a congressional citation, not to mention a ten percent finder's fee for this!"

"I must admit, that I may have misjudged you. Rockford could use a good influence like you around, I just hope some of you rubs off on him," Diehl said with a smile.

Jim was surprised, he didn't think Lt. Thomas Diehl was capable of smiling, or even being in a good mood for that matter. And to make matters worse, Angel, who had started the whole mess in the first place, was being treated like a hero! Jim gave Rocky a look. Rocky just shrugged, an equally chagrined expression plastered across his face.

Diehl and Agent McMasters left the trailer, and Angel came over to where Jim and Rocky were standing. "I'm going to get a congressional citation and a ten percent finder's fee for helping!" he told them excitedly.

Before Jim could say anything, a young police officer tapped him on the shoulder. Jim turned around. "Excuse me, are you James Rockford?" the policeman asked.

"Yeah?"

"Good, then I believe these belong to you," the officer said, handing him a parking ticket and a police impound bill. The young officer turned and walked away.

Jim gave Angel a look.

"Now Jim, I know what you're thinkin'" Angel started.

"Darn right! You're going to pay to get my car back! And you're going to do it before I have second thoughts about not telling that ATF fella what you were REALLY doing!!"

Angel looked at him. "Oh Jimmy, what's a little mix-up between friends?"



Author's notes:Special thanks to Kathleen Bennett for her Beta-Reading and helpful
suggestions. THANKS MOM!!!

Back to Two Chickies Fanfiction