Most Friday nights at the naval station in Bermuda, we would assemble at the officer’s club after work.
One Friday, Rick, a newly married ensign, insisted he had to leave at 6 p.m.
We all tried to talk him into staying, but he’d promised his bride he’d be home by six. I offered to call home for Rick.
When his wife answered the phone, I said, “Rick has been kidnapped. Put five dollars in small, unmarked bills in a plain brown paper bag and throw it through the door of the officer’s club.” Then I hung up.
A short time later, a waiter brought a grocery bag to our table. In it were Rick’s baseball glove, a tennis racket, and a teddy bear.
Attached to the bear was a note: “Rick can play kidnapped until 7 p.m. Then he must come home.”