The Monarch Graveyard

by James R Nelson

  She nodded. “Yes. Allen sent us three copies. You asked me to give one to Stephen. I don’t think he’s had a chance to read any of it, yet. I thought it was amazing.”

  “You did? Good. I think it’s great too. So good, I’ve asked Allen to come down so we can go over it.”

  “It will be nice to see him again. I knew you’d like it. But Phillip, that’s not why I’m here.”

  He put the script down. “What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s Cora. I think she’s about ready to quit.”

  Phillip sat back. “Oh. Barbara again?”

  “Yes. Barbara again. She’s driving Cora absolutely mad. Barbara has her running over to the cottage all hours of the day and night. Get me this, get me that. I just came from the kitchen. Cora was crying again.”

  “Crying? Cora was crying?”

  “Yes. She’s cried more since Barbara got here than I’ve ever seen her cry in all the years I’ve been here.” Jeanette thought for a moment. “In fact, have you ever seen Cora cry before Barbara arrived? I haven’t. I’m telling you, she’s going to quit. What would we do without her? She’s been wonderful.”

  “I certainly don’t want her to quit.” Phillip started to get up from the chair. “Let me go talk to her.”

  Jeanette pushed him back down. “No. Please don’t. She confided in me. She’d be embarrassed if you went to her now. She’s not the one you should be talking to.”

  Phillip settled back in the chair and glanced over at the script. “I know. And I have. But, like I’ve mentioned, Barbara’s under a lot of stress right now. Maybe—”.

  “And I know why,” Jeanette interrupted. “You’ve been trying to shield us from what’s going on, and I get that, but all you have to do is step foot in any grocery store, and you’re going to see Barbara’s face plastered on the front page of all the tabloids.”

  Phillip’s eyebrows shot up. “No!”

  “Yes. How she walked out on Johnny Stampos. They don’t know where she is. That’s why all the attention. Some speculate he had her killed. Others say she’s hiding in South America.” Jeanette smiled. “And one said aliens grabbed her, and they’re keeping her on a hidden base on the back side of the moon.”

  Phillip didn’t laugh. “Damn. Can’t they leave anything alone? At least they haven’t figured out she’s here.”

  ###

  Tony Palmeri stared out the window of the big jet. He hated flying, but the magnificent view out his window made him forget about his fear. Endless vistas of mountains, desert, and blue sky. There was a lot of country down there where people didn’t seem to exist. No roads, no towns. How great would it be to have a small cabin nestled in one of those empty valleys? But then where would you get groceries? No way was he going to hunt or grow his own food.

  He dozed for a while and then snapped awake when a flight attendant announced that the skyscrapers of Chicago could be seen out the windows on the left and that it was time to check their seat belts and put the tray tables up. Chicago was bigger than he imagined. Not as big as New York City, but big enough.

  After an hour’s wait in the busy O’Hare airport, he boarded a smaller plane to Milwaukee. This time he had a two hour layover. Tony was getting tired. He grabbed something to eat and had a few beers. The people watching was quite different from Chicago. It seemed like every fourth person was wearing some kind of green and gold Packers’ regalia. He sat at the bar and gazed out onto the concourse. Packer hats, packer gloves…green scarves. It was endless.

  Tony glanced at his watch. Finally it was time to get to the gate. He showed the attendant his ticket and stepped outside. Where was the covered gangway? Why were they walking out on the runway? Where was the airplane? What? That little puddle jumper? No way. He stopped. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. A few people walked around him and entered the small propeller plane.

  Visions of Johnny yelling at him for not getting Barbara forced him to continue. He had to duck as he climbed the small stairs and entered the fuselage. The plane made three stops. Green Bay, Wisconsin, Escanaba, Michigan, and finally Marquette, Michigan. Each landing was bumpier than the one before. Tony had all he could do to keep from throwing up. Between landings, he forced himself to concentrate looking out the window. Vast expanses of forest reached the horizon, interrupted by rivers and small towns scattered here and there. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they had been diverted to the Yukon Territories or someplace like that.

  With his suitcase in tow, he rented a car, pulled out a map he got from the rental counter, and started the hundred mile drive to the small town of Grand Marais. It was dark by the time he found a motel on Lake Avenue. He was ready to get out of the car. In the almost two hours it had taken him to get there, he had only seen three cars. The road had traveled through thick forests the entire way. He had said a silent prayer, Please Jesus, don’t let me break down out here in the middle of nowhere.

  He checked in, tossed his suitcase on the bed, and washed his face. What a trip. Had he only left Los Angeles that morning? Where was he? Could there really be a place as desolate as this? What the hell was Barbara Jenkins doing up here, anyway? He needed a drink. On the way in, he had seen a bar, The Freighter View Tavern. It was only a block from his motel. He needed to stretch his legs after all those cramped airplane rides.

  He stepped out of the room. A cold breeze blowing off Lake Superior hit him in the face. He wished he had worn something over his suitcoat. He picked up his pace. The tavern sign glowed from across the street.

  Tony took a seat at the bar. There were only a few people in the place.

  The bartender approached him and was about to say something, but then stopped. He stared at Tony for a moment. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a martini. Dry.”

  “Gin or vodka?”

  “Gin with olives.” Tony looked around. Fish, deer heads, and all sorts of smaller animals were stuffed and sitting on shelves or mounted to the walls. He had seen places like this before, but only in the movies. When the bartender set his drink down, Tony said, “You mind if I ask you a question?”

  The man folded his arms and stared at him. “What?”

  Surprised at the reaction, Tony asked, “How would a person get to Phillip Kahle’s house?”

  The bartender’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed. “You want to find out how to get to the Kahle place, do you?”

  Tony nodded. “Yeah.”

  The bartender turned and yelled to the end of the bar, “Joe, come over here.”

  A young man stood up, slowly walked over, and stood next to the bar.

  The bartender asked, “You know this guy?”

  Joe shook his head. “Never seen him before in my life. Looks like he’s got a darn fine suit. What’s up, Mort? Am I supposed to know him?”

  “He wants to know how to get to Mr. Kahle’s place. Didn’t you have a run in with some guy a few years ago looking for the same place?”

  Tony held up his hand. “Wait just a damn minute. I don’t care what happened a few years ago. I never been here before. I’m just asking for some friendly directions.”

  Mort leaned over the bar. “Well, Mister. You might want to pay attention to what happened back then, because the last guy who came in here in a fancy suit looking for Mr. Kahle’s place ended up murdering two folks around here and kidnapping another. In fact, the bastard just broke out of the Marquette State Prison a few days ago. So let me ask you a question. How come you don’t know where Mr. Kahle lives, if you’re so damn interested in paying him a visit?”

  By this time, several other patrons had left their seats and were standing next to Joe. Tony pulled out his wallet, slammed a ten dollar bill on the bar, turned, and exited the building. He hadn’t even touched his drink.

  He crossed the street and looked behind him a few times, just waiting for some of those people to follow him back to the motel. What in the hell was that all about?

  He fumbled for his
key, entered the room, and locked the door behind him. It was almost midnight. Early enough in L.A. He picked up the phone. “Johnny, you aren’t going to believe what happened. I just got here. I mean not even an hour ago. I walked over to the only bar in town to have a quick drink. Well, I happen to ask the bartender if he could tell me where that Kahle guy lives. The man goes ape-shit. He calls over some other guy and asks the guy if he knows me.” He paused. “Now how in the hell is the other guy supposed to know me? Anyway, they start yapping about the last guy who asked where Kahle lived, and how he killed a bunch of people, and how the guy just broke out of prison. Then more people crowded around me. I had to leave. It was crazy. I’m in there three minutes, and all of a sudden I’m totally surrounded by a group of locals that are ready to beat my head in.”

  There was a pause. “So, what’s your point?”

  “My point is, there’s no way I’m going to be able to sneak around and find Barbara. I think everyone must be paranoid about some bozo who broke out of prison. I ask one question, and I got a mob surrounding me. How am I supposed to find this broad and get her back to L.A.?”

  “You’re there an hour and you already screwed things up? Are you kidding me? Maybe I should jump on a plane and do it myself.”

  Tony started to say something, but stopped.

  Johnny continued, “Do this, will you? You’re tired. Get some sleep. Think about what happened, and call me up tomorrow with plan B.” He slammed down the phone.

  Tony eased himself onto the bed. Plan B? How the hell was he going to come up with a plan B? He took off his suit, hung it up in the closet, and pulled back the covers. Even though he was exhausted from his trip, he had a hard time falling asleep. It wasn’t a good idea to piss off Johnny Stampos.

  ###

  At the far end of the Garden Peninsula, the wind was steady off Lake Michigan. Very few butterflies could be found at the sanctuary. Walter knew his daughter was disappointed. He pointed to a young girl standing near the granite monument. “Why don’t you go over and play with that little girl over there.”

  Kimberly tightened her grip on his hand. “No. I don’t want to.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t it be more fun than staying close to me?”

  Kimberly’s lower lip stuck out. “She’ll just laugh at my stupid legs.”

  Walter bent down and gave her a hug. “Oh, Kimmie. I don’t think that’s going to happen. Why don’t you go say hello. She’s probably looking for someone to play with too.”

  Kimberly hesitated. She slowly let go of his hand and walked closer to the girl. Walter held his breath and prayed the girl didn’t say something mean. The girl quickly glanced down at Kimberly’s braces and then started talking. They turned and walked toward the big field behind the monument.

  Walter breathed a sigh of relief. He stared up at the large memorial stone. How much had this sanctuary cost? It was huge. It seemed to go on forever. Waterfront property too. And that stone. It must have set that man back a lot of money. It would be nice to do something like this for his wife. Walter took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. With his teaching salary, maybe he could afford a small plaque that he could attach to one of these benches. It wouldn’t be much, but he thought Kimmie would like it.

  He glanced over at the girls. They were laughing and picking wild flowers. Did that little girl come here often or was she just a tourist passing by? It would be nice for his daughter to have someone to play with on a regular basis.

  Someone was crying. Kimberly had fallen down. Walter ran over. “Are you okay?”

  The other little girl looked scared. “She just fell down, Mister. I didn’t push her or anything.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Kimmie, what happened?”

  Kimberly sniffled a few times. “I hate these braces. They make me fall all the time.”

  Walter picked her up and got her standing. “I know. They take some time to get used to. But you’re doing very well with them.”

  A woman walked over. “Ashley, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Momma. My friend fell down.”

  Walter looked up. “Hello. Everything’s okay. Kimberly just took a little tumble in the soft grass. She’s fine.”

  “That’s good.” The woman glanced over the large field. “I was hoping we’d see the butterflies. It doesn’t seem to be a good day for them. We’re on our way to Mackinac Island.”

  “No. I think it’s too windy for them today. Enjoy your trip.” He reached down for his daughter’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to Aunt Irene’s.”

  ###

  In the thick woods outside of Grand Marais, it was only three in the afternoon, and already a dampness had settled over the cabin. It made the place smell even mustier than usual. Paulie sat on the couch and sniffed the air. That smell was there again. The dead rat smell. The day after they arrived, he had pulled the cushions off the couch looking for what caused that smell, but other than some lint and three pennies, there was nothing else present. He had moved the couch and looked underneath it too. Nothing. He walked over to the window. Air. He needed some fresh air.

  He went to the kitchen were Kitty was dealing herself another hand of solitaire. “I’m gonna go outside for a few minutes.”

  “Have you figured out what we’re going to do? I can’t stand many more days in this piece of shit. You said we’d only be here a short time.”

  “Yeah, I know what I said. The plan was Al was gonna help us, but he told you he was having trouble with that.” He pushed open the back door. “I’m gonna have to talk to him myself. I need to hear what the hell the problem is.”

  “Not now, you aren’t. There’s cops patrolling the road. Maybe tonight after it gets dark, but I don’t know. That might be too risky.” She stubbed out her smoldering cigarette.

  Paulie swatted a huge black fly. “We gotta do something. You don’t want to stay here and neither do I. So I need to talk to Al. Find out what the holdup is.” He stepped outside and closed the door. The air was fresh and cool. He drew in a deep breath.

  Kitty put the cards down and joined him. “Let’s wait until ten o’clock. We’ll drive back to the IGA. You can talk to Al and find out what his plans are.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Good idea. I don’t care where we end up, Vegas or New York, but we gotta get the hell out of here.” A light rain started to fall. “I’m gonna take a nap.” He pulled Kitty close. “You wanna join me?”

  She leaned into him. “Let’s go.”

  Two hours later, Paulie jerked awake. Someone was shaking him. “Get up. It’s dinner time. If you sleep any more, you’ll be up all night.” He rolled over. Where was he? Back in prison? No. Oh, the cabin. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his pants.

  Paulie stepped into the kitchen and looked at the stove. “What’s this shit? Beans again?”

  “We ran out of hotdogs and ants got into the buns.” She looked around. “You think this dump has a gourmet kitchen or something? I’m scared to death when I’m in that damn IGA store. I got to run in and run out. The clerk must think I’m crazy or a little slow. He’s nice and friendly and asks me how I am, and I just mumble something so I can get out of there.”

  Paulie raised an eyebrow. “How friendly is he?”

  She waved her hand. “Oh, come on now. He’s just a kid.”

  After dinner, Paulie paced the small living room. He had read the several old Reader’s Digest magazines that were lying around, and with no TV, it seemed to take forever for ten o’clock to get there. He stared out the window. “Looks like it’s dark enough to go call Al.”

  Kitty looked up from her cross-word puzzle. “Finally. I hope he’s got some good news for us.”

  It only took about ten minutes to get to the IGA, which was now closed. He stepped out of the car, entered the small phone booth, and inserted a handful of quarters.

  Kitty sat in the car with the heater on. One of her favorite songs came on the radio. She tapped her finger on the steering w
heel along with the beat. What was her husband doing? Did he miss her or was he going crazy about what she had done? He didn’t love her anymore. Always calling her fat and then fooling around with that young neighbor lady. Maybe she was over at their house now. Snuggled up to her husband watching TV. Or maybe they were in her comfy bed with no stinky smells to put up with.

  A car rounded the corner and slowed down. Kitty glanced over at Paulie. He was still talking. The car pulled up next to her and stopped. She reached under her blouse and rested her hand on the grip of the revolver that was stuck in the top of her jeans. The man sitting in the car next to her rolled down his window and motioned for her to do the same. Reluctantly, she did.

  “You okay, Ma’am?”

  Kitty looked over at the phone booth again. “Yes. My, um husband’s just calling the sitter to check on the kids.”

  The man noticed the phone booth. “Oh, okay. I thought you’d pulled over here because you had some car problems or something.”

  She smiled. “No. Everything’s fine. Thank you for your concern.”

  The man was still staring at the phone booth. Finally, he said, “No problem. Have a good night.” He rolled up the window and pulled out of the parking lot.

  A few minutes later, Paulie ran over to the car. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “Some guy wanting to find out if I was okay. He thought I was by myself. He didn’t see you in the booth.”

  “I was in the middle of talking with Al when I looked over and seen that guy.”

  “It was nothing. So, what did Al say? When are we leaving?”

  “He said he’s still working on it, but I don’t know if I believe him. We may just have to make a run for it.”

  Kitty tapped on the steering wheel again. “Maybe.”

  ###

  The dark waters of the Atlantic lit up as lightning illuminated the sky. Elena put the phone down and made herself a drink. She picked up a lined sheet of notebook paper and added another row. Her cousin from Nuevo Laredo agreed to lend her $3,000. She added up the dollar total from everyone who had said yes. It was $17,325. Not even close to $50,000, but at least it was something.