Fast Talkin' Willie Walken was a minister of the gospel. Or a missionary. Or a deacon. Faith? Baptist, Mormon, Jehovah's Witness, Catholic. You name it, he had the papers to prove it. Problem was the credentials, like Will, were bogus. Will, you see, was a con man.
We first had the pleasure of his company, when we received a call that there was a suspicious minister, trying to cash a check at Gene's Fifth Avenue Florist. He'd bought a bouquet and was asking to write a check for over the amount of the purchase so he'd get cash back. A common scam. By the time we arrived, Will had everyone in the store chuckling, with his warm manner, good looks, and charm. All except the sharp-eyed clerk, who'd noticed that Will's wallet was bulging with ID cards. We took Will aside for a chat.
Will explained that he was a roving minister and made his living by being a guest speaker at local churches. He said it was a nice touch to gift the prospective church with a bouquet. He got a lot more jobs that way. He, reluctantly, showed us the wallet with all the IDs. He said they were honorary, given by grateful denominations. Uh-huh. That made us want to look further.
We asked Will where his car was parked. He pointed outside, where a baby blue 60 Chevy was at the curb. From inside the store, we could see that the back seat was full of bouquets. Looking back at Will, he rolled his eyes, laughed, and said, Looks like the next place I'm gonna be preachin' is at the jail, huh?
When Will's car was inventoried, besides the flowers there were boxes full of diplomas, ID cards, certificates, and check books attesting that Will was in the religion business.
After he'd been bagged, Will was affable, even helpful. He said those certificates were available anywhere. Said he'd made his living being a fake minister for years. Except for periods of jail time. He'd come from Utah, where he admitted he was wanted for parole violation.
He did leave out one small detail. Will had been traveling with a woman. He dropped her off at a beauty shop, with instructions to Give her the works. After he was arrested, he just wrote her off. She was stuck with no money, until the local aid society came to her, well, aid.
Will waived extradition, and the folks in Utah said they'd be down post haste to reclaim the wily William. It took about a week, while Will relaxed in our jail. During that time, he won most of us over. We found a buyer for his car--after verifying it was legit. One cop loaned him money until he was paid for the car. Truth be told, he was so damn funny we hated to see him go.
Just before he boarded the gray Chevy with the Utah Dept of Prisons lettering, Will said, You folks've been real decent to me and I appreciate it. I expect some day I'll see you again. We said that wasn't necessary. We'd probably be better off if he stayed away. He laughed and they were gone.
Six months later, Dave Dampier came into my office, grinning and shaking his head. You're not going to believe this, he said. Parked outside the station was a gray Chevy with Utah Prison lettering on the doors. The ignition had been hot wired. A quick call verified what we suspected. Will had worked his was up to trustee, stolen the prison's vehicle, and driven it across the country to Naples, Florida. And left it where we couldn't miss it, proof that he'd kept his word.
Never got to see Fast Talkin' Willie Walken again. But, for a long time, every now and then I was sure I could hear him laughing.
We first had the pleasure of his company, when we received a call that there was a suspicious minister, trying to cash a check at Gene's Fifth Avenue Florist. He'd bought a bouquet and was asking to write a check for over the amount of the purchase so he'd get cash back. A common scam. By the time we arrived, Will had everyone in the store chuckling, with his warm manner, good looks, and charm. All except the sharp-eyed clerk, who'd noticed that Will's wallet was bulging with ID cards. We took Will aside for a chat.
Will explained that he was a roving minister and made his living by being a guest speaker at local churches. He said it was a nice touch to gift the prospective church with a bouquet. He got a lot more jobs that way. He, reluctantly, showed us the wallet with all the IDs. He said they were honorary, given by grateful denominations. Uh-huh. That made us want to look further.
We asked Will where his car was parked. He pointed outside, where a baby blue 60 Chevy was at the curb. From inside the store, we could see that the back seat was full of bouquets. Looking back at Will, he rolled his eyes, laughed, and said, Looks like the next place I'm gonna be preachin' is at the jail, huh?
When Will's car was inventoried, besides the flowers there were boxes full of diplomas, ID cards, certificates, and check books attesting that Will was in the religion business.
After he'd been bagged, Will was affable, even helpful. He said those certificates were available anywhere. Said he'd made his living being a fake minister for years. Except for periods of jail time. He'd come from Utah, where he admitted he was wanted for parole violation.
He did leave out one small detail. Will had been traveling with a woman. He dropped her off at a beauty shop, with instructions to Give her the works. After he was arrested, he just wrote her off. She was stuck with no money, until the local aid society came to her, well, aid.
Will waived extradition, and the folks in Utah said they'd be down post haste to reclaim the wily William. It took about a week, while Will relaxed in our jail. During that time, he won most of us over. We found a buyer for his car--after verifying it was legit. One cop loaned him money until he was paid for the car. Truth be told, he was so damn funny we hated to see him go.
Just before he boarded the gray Chevy with the Utah Dept of Prisons lettering, Will said, You folks've been real decent to me and I appreciate it. I expect some day I'll see you again. We said that wasn't necessary. We'd probably be better off if he stayed away. He laughed and they were gone.
Six months later, Dave Dampier came into my office, grinning and shaking his head. You're not going to believe this, he said. Parked outside the station was a gray Chevy with Utah Prison lettering on the doors. The ignition had been hot wired. A quick call verified what we suspected. Will had worked his was up to trustee, stolen the prison's vehicle, and driven it across the country to Naples, Florida. And left it where we couldn't miss it, proof that he'd kept his word.
Never got to see Fast Talkin' Willie Walken again. But, for a long time, every now and then I was sure I could hear him laughing.
No comments:
Post a Comment