The Flip (An Angel Hill novel)

by C. Dennis Moore

  Just then, he saw Keith pull up outside. He stood inside the porch, watching, waiting for Keith to get up there, said “What’s up,” when he came inside, and together they went in the house.

  “Just came to do some work,” Keith said.

  “How’s Michelle?”

  Keith’s head was hung low and Mike knew it wasn’t good.

  “Hasn’t woken up yet?”

  “She ain’t gonna, man,” Keith said.

  “Why, what happened?”

  “They said it was a subdural hematoma.”

  “Shit, dude, brain bleed?”

  Keith nodded, then sighed and said, “I was there for a while this morning, I just couldn’t be around anyone when I found out.”

  “Were her parents there?”

  “I didn’t see them. Old Mother was, though. Stupid bitch was going on about how this happened because Michelle moved out and turned her back on God and all this.”

  “That chick’s a fucking nut anyway, though; you knew that.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t a surprise.”

  “So what now?”

  Keith shrugged. Then he said, “I called the place where she works--worked--and they said the cabinets should be here by next week. I asked if her commission could be put toward her funeral.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “He tried to argue with me at first, but I told him I only came to them because of her, so the commission was either hers or I’d go somewhere else. I mean, it’s what, ten percent? He’ll live. He finally said okay, though.”

  “The countertop is gonna take a few weeks, they said.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Kevin said that’s pretty standard, though.”

  “I guess. Just want to get that kitchen put back together.”

  “Yeah, it’ll be nice when it starts to look less like a construction zone and more like a house.”

  “Hey, you wanna go with me to look at paints? I was gonna see where Kevin wanted me, but I’ve also been putting off the paint til I didn’t have to do it alone.”

  “Sure.”

  Mike found the contractor and told him where he would be and, “Just call if something comes up.”

  “Sure.”

  “You can’t keep letting this shit tear you up, man,” Mike said once they were in his car. “I know it’s still new and all, but you gotta pull yourself together.”

  “It’s my fault,” Keith said. “I took her back there so I could show her what Angel Hill Style is like finally, and instead I got her killed.”

  “You didn’t push her.”

  “Might as well. Cause and effect.”

  “Maybe so, but you didn’t know, and, if you had, you wouldn’t have taken her there.”

  “No,” Keith agreed. “But I didn’t know.”

  A thought occurred to Mike and he said, “Look, if I were gonna blame anyone first, it wouldn’t be you. Hell, you might as well blame that black dude that got hit last week down on The Slant.”

  “Blame him? For what?”

  “I didn’t tell you about him,” Mike asked. “That shit he was talking just before?”

  Keith shook his head.

  “Fuck, this dude was nuts. Said he used to live there, him and his girlfriend. Said she had a stroke and died, but he said the house killed her.”

  “It gave her a stroke?” Keith said.

  “That’s what he said. Not sure how he thinks that works, but whatever.”

  “So somebody did die there, then. Man, we’re never selling this place.”

  “See, that’s the thing; I don’t know. He said she died in the hospital. He said no one’s died there, but that everybody who’s ever been inside has died.”

  Keith looked sideways at him.

  “Huh?”

  “I know,” Mike said. “I mean, you look at it, every house is like that, right? Everyone dies, everyone’s been inside a house, so eventually everyone who has ever been in every house is going to die.”

  “But was he right?”

  “What, about the house killing his girlfriend? Unless the house turned into a bloodclot and caused her stroke, I seriously doubt it.”

  “No, about no one’s died there, but that everyone dies after being there?”

  “No,” Mike said. “I mean, I’m not saying that, technically, the things he said couldn’t have some truth to them. It’s possible no one has died there, but it’s a guarantee that everyone who’s been in there is going to die at some point.”

  “Wonder how we can find out.”

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of the realtor all week, but she’s dodging me. Personally, I think ‘no one has died here’ should be on the sign out front, it’s a great selling point.”

  “Yeah, unless it’s killing everyone somewhere else.”

  “It’s not,” Mike said. “I don’t even see how that makes any kind of sense.”

  “Yeah, not really,” Keith said, although he said it halfheartedly, which Mike still attributed to his being distracted over Michelle dying. “I’ll tell you one thing, we’re finishing this house either way. Whether it’s responsible for Michelle or not--”

  “It’s not,” Mike interjected. “That’s the point I’m trying to make. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t the black guy’s fault, it’s not the house’s fault. She slipped, she fell. It happened. It’s a tragedy. That’s it.”

  “Yeah,” Keith said. “I guess. I’m just saying, though, we’re finishing it and we’re making it perfect. Whether it’s responsible or not--” he paused to take a breath, expecting Mike to interrupt again. “--we’re gonna do right by her.”

  “By ordering cabinets from her former company?”

  Spoken aloud, the thought sounded ridiculous and overly dramatic. But a glance over at Keith’s distracted face told Mike he was dead serious.

  “Alright,” he said. “That’s fine with me, you know I want to make the house the best it can be.”

  “Me too.”

  They pulled into the strip mall parking lot on Spader, parked in front of the Ace Hardware store, and got out of the car. Keith headed for the door and Mike paused and said, “I’ll be in there in a second, I’m gonna try Lynette again.”

  Keith gave him a look.

  “The realtor,” Mike said.

  “Oh. Okay, I’ll see you inside. We’re looking at paint, right?”

  Mike nodded and Keith went inside.

  He called her phone again, but, as usual, it went straight to voicemail. He didn’t bother leaving his threatening message. Instead, he hung up, called up the yellow pages app on his phone, and searched for the main office number. He had been trying to call her direct cell line, then thought I wonder if she got a new number or something. Maybe it was a work cell and she quit or got fired. Maybe if he talked to someone direct he could get her. If nothing else, if she’s in the office and avoiding my calls, then if I call a receptionist or someone and they say yeah she’s here, just a minute, she can’t duck that call, at least.

  He found the number, called it, then waited for an answer. Hell, he was just glad it rang, since his calls to her cell always went straight to voicemail.

  After the third ring a too-chipper female voice answered, announced the company name and said, “How can I help you?”

  “Hi,” Mike said, happy to have a real voice on the other end, finally. “I’m trying to reach Lynette Barr? I’ve been trying to get hold of her for a few days, actually.”

  He threw that in as if to hint he wasn’t happy and maybe she should be reprimanded. Fuck with me, he thought, and I’ll get your ass written up.

  “Oh,” the woman on the other end said. “Um. Lynette?”

  “Yes,” Mike said. “We bought a house from her a few weeks ago, my company did, and we just had a few more questions. A couple things have come up and we needed some more background on the house, in case there was anything she didn’t mention because we didn’t ask, that kind of thing.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Lyne
tte isn’t here. She passed away . . . a couple weeks ago.”

  Mike’s stomach dropped out from under him and his vision narrowed to a small white dot in front of him while everything else shrank to black. He felt like he’d been punched in the chest.

  “A couple weeks ago?” Mike asked. “Can I ask what happened?”

  “She had a heart attack.”

  “Um, I see. Okay, thanks,” Mike said, then hung up before she could say anything else.

  He pocketed the phone, then opened his car door and sat down.

  He tried to think back, then realized they’d only been in the house once before they signed the papers, and it had just been him and Brian. She had stayed outside.

  He wondered if she had known.

  Yes, he decided, she must have. Because he remembered the day they’d signed the papers, and he couldn’t get the lock opened and she came up to show him how to jiggle it properly. The door came open and she stumbled a little, her foot crossed the threshold.

  Had that done it? Was that the thing that sealed her fate? Merely stepping over the threshold for half a second? It hadn’t been any longer than that, now that he remembered it. And he also remembered the look on her face when it happened, how quickly she’d drawn her foot back and got into her car and was gone.

  Maybe she had known.

  But surely she’d been in the house before. She was the realtor, for God’s sake. How was she going to sell a house she hadn’t been in?

  “Don’t know how,” he muttered, “but she did. And something so small as that foot in the door, and she was done.”

  No, he thought, he was falling for Sean Ellis’s delirium. What it all came back down to, as it always would, was the fact a house can’t kill someone just because they stepped inside.

  The reason the word “coincidence” exists, he told himself, is because it happens often enough there was need for a word to describe what it was. For all he knew, she spent her days and nights slamming double cheeseburgers and beer while smoking five packs a day. He wasn’t going to start believing a crazy man just because of this.

  He went inside and found Keith in the paint aisle.

  “You get hold of her out there?” Keith asked.

  Mike shook his head. “They said she doesn’t work there anymore. I didn’t ask why.”

  By the time they got back to the house, Paul had installed the toilets, sinks and the upstairs bathtub, and was working on the shower surround for the downstairs bathroom, which was smaller and only fitted for a stall.

  “Wow,” Mike said when he saw how much was done. “You’re kicking ass on this stuff.”

  “All in a day’s work,” Paul said casually. “I did have to level it out a lot before I put the base in, though; the floor down here’s really wonky.”

  “Is that bad?” Keith asked.

  “No,” Paul said. “It’s a basement, and in these old houses you’re not gonna find many level surfaces. They settle, yeah? Things get out of whack and you just have to go back later and fix it again. Took a bag and a half of mix, though, it was pretty bad back in this corner. It set up overnight, I did it yesterday, so everything’s ready to go now, and once I get this installed, I can move on and help with other stuff. Plumbing will be finished.”

  “Awesome,” Mike said. “Looks great.”

  “Thanks, mate,” Paul said, and turned back to the shower, lifting one of the side walls and clicking it into place.

  Mike and Keith went back upstairs to see what they could do and Kevin put them to work, Mike installing the new kitchen floor while Keith helped put up new drywall in the new bathroom now that the plumbing was all in place.

  A few hours later, Steven showed up and helped in the basement. The floor was concrete and they wanted to carpet it, but Kevin said they had to level it first, and he took Steven down to show him how to do that. Around five that evening, Brian showed up and asked if he could talk to the guys.

  They converged in the living room, all of them covered in something, whether glue, dust or some chemical compound they didn’t want to think about, knowing the clothes they wore were most likely ruined.

  “What’s up?” Mike asked when they were all there.

  “I just needed to get everyone together and stuff like that,” Brian said. “Couple business things to go over. I got a new phone.” He held it up and passed it around so everyone could put their numbers back into it.

  “Never found your old one?” Steven asked.

  Brian shook his head and shrugged, said, “It never turned up. Anyway, the other thing I wanted to talk about was the next house. Where do we go from here?”

  “We should sell this one first,” Mike said. “I know you gotta spend money to make it, but--.”

  “That’s the third thing,” Brian said. “I want to buy this one. I want to sell my parents’ house, but I want us to do the work to it first so we can get most out of it. They haven’t updated that house since they bought it, and it needs the work.”

  “You want us to buy your parents’ house?” Keith asked.

  “No, I already own it.”

  He outlined his plan for them and they all nodded in the right places, looking thoughtful and interested. Mike said, “And if we can’t sell that one?”

  “Then it’s not your problem. I’ll still own it. If it comes down to it, I see if Mel wants to take it over or, what the fuck, I let the bank take it.”

  “But if we do sell it,” Steven said, “then we’ve got two houses in Angel Hill with our name attached.”

  Mike nodded.

  “Doesn’t sound too bad. As long as you’re approved and can pull it off. You think you can get it done?”

  “Yeah,” Brian said. “My credit’s solid.”

  “Cool.”

  “Hey guys,” Kevin said, poking his head into the living room, “we’re gonna take off for the night, most of this stuff’s gotta set up overnight, so we’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Keith said. “Thanks.”

  Kevin and his guys filed out past them, closing the door behind them, and Mike turned back to Brian and said, “Well, since you wanna buy the place, I’ll show you the paint we picked out earlier. So if you don’t like it we can take it back before we waste time getting started with it.”

  Brian looked at the colors, shrugged, said, “Those look fine.”

  “You’ve got bathrooms now,” Keith said, and they went to look at them again. Keith had the upstairs bathroom dry walled and had applied the first layer of mud so it finally looked like an actual room for the first time.

  “That’s awesome,” Brian said. “Looks great.”

  “Ol’ Keith did a good job up here.”

  Brian nodded.

  “The one downstairs should be almost done, too,” Mike said. “Paul just had the shower to install earlier.”

  They went downstairs and checked that out too, then Steven showed them the new, level floors.

  “We’re putting down the sub floor and padding tomorrow, he said. “We’ll get the carpet next week.”

  “Cabinets next week, too,” Keith said. “Countertops the week after.”

  “I still can’t believe how different it all looks.” Mike said.

  “An improvement, for sure,” Brian said. “How soon do we expect to have all this done? At least to the point, like, I could bring some stuff over and start staying here and stuff like that?”

  Mike shrugged, “At least until the cabinets and countertops are here, otherwise you don’t have a kitchen. I mean, there’s not gonna be a sink until we have something to install it in.”

  “I can work around all the work going on and stuff,” Brian said. “Like the painting and stuff, because I’ll be helping out with that. But, like the real hardcore messy work, stuff the crew will have to be here banging away on every day.”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said. “We can ask them tomorrow.”

  “Cool.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  Brian sh
ook his head, said, “No rush, really, I’m just, you know it’s weird being in my house now.”

  “We’ll try to get you in here as soon as we can,” Mike said. “I don’t think I’d be moving everything in and getting comfortable till the papers are signed, though.”

  “No,” Brian said, “I’m not worried about all that, just really kinda looking for a place to sleep that’s not my house.”

  “Fuck, dude, just come stay at my place. I’m here all day anyway.”

  “You sure?” Brian asked.

  “Like I care. You should have said something a long time ago, you know that.”

  “Cool,” Brian said. “Thanks.”

  “On that note,” Mike said, “I’m friggin starving. Anybody wanna go get something to eat?”

  “I gotta get home,” Steven said. “I got some stuff I gotta do.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Keith said.

  “If you don’t mind me showing up late, I’ll catch up with you somewhere,” Brian said. “I want to grab a shower and get my stuff for work, I’ll just leave from there and head to St. Joe.”

  “Shit, I don’t wanna wait till nine to eat.”

  “No, I’ll be ready in half an hour or so. Need to grab a few things to bring to your place in the morning when I get off work.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll use the time to go get a key made for you, too.”

  Steven and Brian left in their cars but Keith hung back a minute, helping Mike shut off the lights and lock up, then walking down to their cars together.

  “You gonna tell them about what that guy told you?”

  “Why would I?” Mike asked. “It’s bullshit.”

  Keith nodded and said, “Yeah, I guess.” Then he got into his car.

  Mike got into his own, thinking about what he’d just said. Did he believe it really had been bullshit? He wanted to believe it was. But Sean Ellis, then Lynette Barr.

  That didn’t prove anything, he knew. It was just a coincidence. Still, though…

  Paul Couch, who pronounced his last name Cooch and considered himself the straightest gay man around, also considered himself an interesting enigma. Welsh by birth, he’d spent most of his life living in England, now lived in the US, and was obsessed with American country music. He’d moved to the US a few years ago when his husband’s work required the relocation.