My name is Tom and this is my story. Actually, this story isn't about me, but rather, about my neighbor Frank Bowers. Please excuse me if I loose track or get off the subject a tad, but it has been fifteen years since Frank dramatically changed the neighborhood, my life, and saved me all at the same time.
It was the summer of 1979 and Frank, his wife June, and their two children, Frank Jr. and Karen, had been living next to my family and I for three years. The house he lived in had been vacant for almost a year and a half before he moved in. The house is a two story brick job with a large yard as are most in this part of town. I guess you could say we are upper middle class folks with most of us in our mid thirties to early forties.
For the most part the neighborhood is quiet and almost all of us had grown up together, made our fortunes, and bought our houses when they were brand new. Frank, on the other hand, had grown up in Cleveland and had been transferred here by his company. I don't know if for punishment or for promotion. He was an accountant for the J.A. Fairchild company.
I never got very close to Frank. He seemed kind of distant and never seemed to have much time to talk. I managed to talk to him on several occasions, mainly on the weekends. He was my neighbor and I tried to be as neighborly as possible. We invited Frank and his family to several backyard cook outs, but it was his wife that did most of the talking.
June was a very nice and a very pretty woman. My wife took to her immediately. They were almost like two long lost sisters just getting together again. My wife, Becky, had June join the PTA and every other club or organization that she belonged to. During the day Becky took June to Fitness World and got her started on aerobics. Their children were very well mannered and I think that was because of June. June was, among other things, a very neat and orderly person.
Frank Jr. and Karen were the same age as my son Rusty and all three got along very well together. Rusty was happy to have some kids his age living next door to him and would spend hours after school and all day during the summer over at the bowers house.
We got to know the Bowers family fairly well, if slowly, in the three years they lived next to us. They seemed like perfectly normal, middle class Americans. It was because of this that we were surprised the evening the two police detectives pulled up to our house.
The two detectives came up to our door, identified themselves, and asked if they might have a few words with us about our neighbor, Frank Bowers. Of course we let them in and asked them to be seated. They didn't ask too many questions and never really let us know why they wanted to know so much about Frank. They just asked typical questions, I guess, like does Frank do any unusual things?, Do you hear any arguments?, Do the Bowers have late night visitors very often?, or do their children ever say any strange or suspicious things? All these questions were very basic and I assume routine. The one question, though, that really got our attention was whether we knew if Frank owned any guns. We told them that we had never seen any and with that they left.
I can tell you it ain't no comfort having the police question you about a neighbor you thought you knew fairly well. I didn't sleep too well that night and I don't suppose Becky did either. I kept thinking that maybe Frank was a killer and was wanted or that maybe he had swindled someone out of their money. No, Frank just wasn't that kind of person. I didn't know why the police had an interest in him, but I was almost certain it couldn't be for anything serious. I made a mental note to talk to Frank about it sometime in the near future.
I never got the chance to talk to Frank because he and his family left for their annual summer vacation the next morning. That was a bit unusual since he hadn't mentioned anything about it to us. I hate to say so, but I was actually glad they were gone. It would give me some time to think about what the police had said. Becky had seemed to blow it off, but I'm much more suspicious than she is. Search my mind as I did, I just could not figure out what Frank could possibly have done. I finally gave up and just blew it off myself, besides, to day was Saturday and we were going to cook out this evening.
Our cook out came off without a hitch. As soon as Rusty was finished he got on his bike and went to the park. He wouldn't be home until ten so I was going to take it easy with Becky for a while. This just wasn't going to be so because of Frank Bowers and our two visitors.
Frank was still on vacation and wouldn't be home for a couple of days, but he was still responsible for our visitors. The two men that came to visit us were from the F.B.I. and had a mass of questions for us about Frank. They started out with the same questions as the police did but went a little further. I won't go into detail about all the questions, but what they really wanted to know was when Frank was going to be home. I told them that Frank was on his annual summer vacation and that I was expecting him back on Monday. They thanked us and told us not to talk with anyone about their visit.
Our weekend finished itself on a rather somber note. Rusty knew nothing of our visitors and we weren't about to tell him. Becky and I just didn't know what to think. Nothing like this had ever happened to us. Sunday night I didn't sleep at all. Anticipation was getting the best of me and Monday was fast approaching. When the alarm clock went off Monday morning I knew I couldn't go to work so I called in sick. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I was going to keep my eyes open.
It was because of my watching and waiting that I noticed all of the strange goings on. The first thing I notice was the black Plymouth that pasted our house every half hour. There were two men in it and they did nothing but drive by. The mailman that brought our mail that morning was not the usual mailman. His truck was much larger and parked just down the street. He was much later than usual and seemed to take much longer than our regular mailman. There was also a car I didn't recognize down the street with it's hood open and a tow truck behind it. The mechanic had been working on the car for over two hours. I knew something was going to come down and it was only a matter of time.
Shortly after noon frank got home. I waved to him as he drove up his driveway and parked his car. Frank waved back and then started to unpack his car. June and the kids went inside, Frank kept unpacking the car, and I continued trimming the bushes in my front yard.. The "half hour" car stopped driving by the house, the mailman was in his truck, and the mechanic finally got the car running down the street.
Frank finished unpacking his car and went inside. What happened next is like something out of a wild dream. It was hard to believe then and still hard to believe now, fifteen years later. At this point I really don't know how to go about describing the next thirty minutes. i don't know, I guess I'll start at the top and work down and I mean that literally. Anyway, here's what happened.
The quiet on that Monday was shattered as four Hughes 500 helicopters came out of the sun and hovered over Franks house. I swear this is the honest to God's truth. All I was able to do was stand there with my mouth wide open. I'm like you, I couldn't believe what was happening, but that's not all. I swung around when I heard lots of running feet and saw twenty heavily armed men get out of the mail truck. All of them were wearing army fatigues and carrying automatic weapons. My street was becoming a battle zone.
I guess any ordinary person would have taken cover by now, but I just had to see what was going to happen. After all, Frank was a friend, even if not a close one. I said hi as five of these fatigue dressed men ran by me and into Franks back yard. They ignored me and I guess it was foolish to say anything to them Franks house was totally surrounded on the ground and in the air. There was no way poor Frank was going to get away.
The neighbors up and down the street were all standing on their front porches or looking out of windows from behind closed curtains. I was the only one out in his front yard proper. Becky was watching from the safety of our bedroom which is on the second floor. I was feeling sorry for Frank, I don't know why, I just was. This was exciting. It had now been fifteen minutes since the helicopters had arrived and right now everything was at a stand still so to speak. The only thing we were missing now was the "man in charge" or maybe a few tanks. We weren't missing the man in charge for long. actually, it was three men with dark sunglasses and nice dark blue suites. They arrived in a black Plymouth. Anyway, the three men walked up to Franks house, knocked on the door, and were let in. A few minutes later the three men came out with Frank, two of them were in front of Frank, one behind, and poor Frank in the middle with his hands cuffed behind him.
June came running out of the house crying and screaming. The man behind Frank stopped and talked with June while the other two put Frank in the back seat of the black Plymouth. When Frank was in the car the third man got into the car and they drove off. June ran back into the house, grabbed Frank Jr. and Karen, got into her car and left. That was that! I still didn't know what had happened and that bothered me.
The fatigue dressed men were starting to head back to the mail truck when another black Plymouth pulled up in front of Franks house. This time only two men got out. Ah, my two F.B.I. visitors had come back. Maybe I could get them to tell me what had just happened. One agent pulled out a radio and said something into it and at the same time the four helicopters left. The other agent was talking to the captain of the fatigue dressed men. When he was through I walked up to the agents, shook their hands, and asked them what the deal was.
I hope my shock didn't show too clearly on my face. I hope my nervousness didn't show too badly. I hope! I was scared and had to excuse myself before I started shaking. I went straight to my house. Becky was at the front door but I walked right pasted her without saying a word. I was all shook up. I needed a drink and a valium. Becky was looking at me all kinds of funny like and asking me what had happened over at Franks house. I told Becky I would tell her later, but right now I had things to do and I needed her help.
As soon as everyone at Franks house had left, and I was sure nobody was watching, I had Becky pull the shades and take the phone off the hook. Becky still wanted to know what was going on and I told her not to question my actions and just do what I say and when I was done I would tell her. Ther wasn't any time to waste. I was just hoping that I didn't look too suspicious to those two F.B.I. agents.
When it was good and dark outside I quickly took the mattress off of our bed and loaded it into the back of our station wagon. Becky was mad because it had been less than a year since we bought it. She didn't understand but I told her not to worry and that I would be back in a short while and then I would tell her everything. I took the mattress to the city dump and threw it over the fence. I took the long way home to make sure I wasn't followed.
Becky was waiting for me in the living room with that, "I'm waiting look". She wanted to know what was going on and what had happened to Frank. I told her that when I talked to the F.B.I. agents they told me what Frank had done. This is what they said, "Well Mr. Thompson, you know that little tag on your mattress that says "do not remove under penalty of the law"? well, we had reason to believe that Mr. Bowers had removed that tag, and he had. It's as simple as that".
Becky was white as a sheet because she couldn't believe it. As you may have guessed by now, I took the tag off my mattress. I never saw Frank or his family again. Nobody ever did. As for me, they never found out what I had done and I think I'm safe to talk about it now because there has to be a statute of limitations for removing that tag. Anyway, the names of the people in this story have been changed to protect the guilty.
"What was that Becky? A black Plymouth? In front of our house?".........