by Johnny Shaw
“Shut up,” Axel said.
“Hey, Uckers!” Louder shouted. “I’m just a special guest star, but do any of you geniuses have a plan to get us out of this? I, for one, don’t want to get arrested or eaten by swamp creatures or whatever else could happen way out here in the sticks. If Axel wants to plow his great-aunt, that’s fine with me.”
“She’s not my great-aunt. We’re the same age.”
“I. Don’t. Care!” Louder yelled.
“I’m working on a strategy,” Axel said. “That’s why plans exist, instead of people driving buses into the country all willy-nilly.”
“Yeah, Kurt,” Gretchen said. “What is up with that? You could’ve given us a heads-up.”
Brother Tobin Floom walked out of the forest. His rant had ended, and he stopped to marvel at the burning bus. The interior smoldered. It looked like it had mostly gone out.
“Mr. Brother Floom!” Axel shouted. “We’re tied up. We need you to untie us.”
Brother Floom walked to them, his eyes wild. “The Lord forgives you,” he said, and walked back into the woods.
“Axel, remember how you accused Stephanie of being in bed with Mother Ucker?” Gretchen said.
“A horrific image,” Axel said, “but I stand by that accusation.”
“Because, as earlier stated, you’re an idiot,” Gretchen said, nodding toward the road. “Looks like I’m the only one that trusted the right person.”
Stephanie took her time walking up the dirt drive. She kicked at a rock, making a game of it. When she reached them, she put her hands on her hips and smiled. “Hey, guys. How’s it hangin’?”
“You didn’t leave,” Gretchen said. “I love you.”
“Of course not,” Stephanie said. “I forgot to give you your present.” In a sweeping flourish, she opened a butterfly knife.
“Let me guess,” Stephanie said. “Tons-of-Fun double-crossed you? Axel, you are terrible at this. You should’ve stuck to being a victim of crime. You were good at that. Play to your strengths.”
“We haven’t formally met,” Louder said. “Pleased to meet you and whatnot, but are you going to untie us? That smoke is going to bring cops.”
Stephanie sawed at the rope that held Gretchen. “When you’re all free, head straight back to the church. Stay in character. Don’t run. Don’t panic. Everyone thinks the preacher took off with the bus on his lonesome. Nobody knows any of you are here. Where is the preacher?”
Gretchen got her hands free and pointed toward the forest. Brother Tobin Floom shouted into the air, something about heaven and hell and redemption and the end. It was pretty convincing.
Stephanie handed Gretchen the butterfly knife and pulled out her own. Gretchen worked on Louder’s ropes while Stephanie freed Kurt.
“Play your parts,” Stephanie said. “You should be fine. Even if he gains clarity, who’s going to believe him?”
“We’re leaving Brother Floom here?” Kurt said. “Is that ethical?”
“Ethical, shmethical,” Gretchen said. “We’ll call in an anonymous tip.”
“This doesn’t make us even,” Axel said.
“You’re welcome,” Stephanie said.
A televangelist stealing a bus and taking it on a joyride garnered attention. Four different law enforcement agencies and a half dozen news outlets blocked the road to the church.
Kurt, Axel, and Louder got out of the van parked a few blocks from the church and walked back as nonchalantly as they could. Gretchen had left with Stephanie. No hugs or goodbyes. No plans to meet up and debrief.
The scene at the church was chaos. Car owners pointed at their damaged vehicles and yelled at police or church personnel. Dozens milled around, talking on their cell phones or taking pictures. Nobody gave the trio a second look. Kurt and Louder went to find Pepe to work on their alibi.
Axel spotted Virginia surrounded by men in suits. A police officer ran to the man talking to her. In a matter of seconds, Virginia was in a police car and a dozen cruisers were speeding away from the church. The news vans got the hint and followed close behind. Someone had eventually communicated the tip they had called in.
An hour later, a meeting was called for all tour personnel. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was about. Thrace McCormick gave a short statement about Brother Floom and his health. He had been found in the woods, almost incoherent. As of that moment, the remainder of the tour was cancelled. No mention was made of travel arrangements or costs being provided to get home. It looked like Axel would have to catch a ride in Kurt’s van.
They never found out what Brother Floom told the police, if anything. However, they weren’t brought in for questioning, which was all that mattered. Not that Fletcher Christian could have been found.
They didn’t get any money out of the deal, but they didn’t get any jail time either. Axel chalked it up to a draw.
While Louder and Pepe bought groceries and gear for the long drive back, Axel and Kurt got their last taste of Waffle House.
“I’m sorry that I lied to you,” Kurt said. “We’re roommates and everything now. We need to be okay, or it’s going to suck.”
“We’re okay,” Axel said. “I don’t know if me and Gretch ever will be.”
“Give it time.”
“We all screwed up in some way. I’m the big brother. I should’ve done better.”
“I spent hours with Mother, and all she was interested in was the house, Dad’s money. Fritzy taught me to drive a getaway car. How does that fit into the whole thing?”
“Not everything always makes sense,” Axel said.
“Some of the other Uckers warned me about her,” Kurt said. “I should have listened.”
“There were plenty of red flags. We chose to ignore them.”
“Some good came out of all this,” Kurt said.
“You’re going to silver line this?”
“Someone has to. You met Virginia.”
“That’s true.”
“We also successfully robbed the church, even if the money was immediately robbed from us after.”
“You’re stretching there.”
“The biggie is that Mother went to great lengths for whatever Dad left behind. His stash is a real thing and still out there.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Axel said. “We could look for Dad’s hidden loot.”
“A mystery,” Kurt said. “The game is afoot.”
“Way to nerd it up.”
“That’s Sherlock Holmes. That’s not nerdy. Doctor Who is nerdy. A Dormammu reference, über-nerdy. But Sherlock Holmes, that’s a meat-and-potatoes reference.”
“Not in Mississippi,” Axel said.
“Stereotypes and caricatures don’t make you right,” Kurt said.
“Excuse me, sir,” Axel said over his shoulder to a large man wearing overalls and a baseball cap sitting at the counter.
The man turned. “Yeah?”
“Can you help settle a bet? If I said ‘The game is afoot,’ what am I referencing?”
The man took off his baseball cap and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, chief. You got me.”
Axel turned to Kurt and made a smug face. “That’s okay. Thanks. We’ll figure it out.”
The man continued. “Everyone knows it from Sherlock Holmes, but it actually originates from Shakespeare’s Henry the Fourth. But I surely can’t remember if it’s Part One or Part Two. Back to the wall and a gun to my head, I’d go with Part One, but I’m guessing on that. I reckon Google will know.”
“Thanks,” Axel said, turning back to a beaming Kurt. “Shut up, nerd.”
Axel and Kurt arrived back at the house on Xanadu Lane. While they had been on the road, the house had been ransacked. They both rolled their eyes at the destruction and left it as it was. They dropped their bags in the anteroom—the word foyer was forbidden to say within the walls of the house.
“It’s good to be home,” Axel said. “Your home, too. You’re not a guest. You live here. Fo
r as long as you want.”
“Thanks, Ax,” Kurt said. “I appreciate it.” He gave Axel a hug and started walking up the stairs to his room. “Now I’m going to take a twenty-hour nap.”
Axel went into the living room and plopped down on the couch. On Fletcher Christian’s phone, he called Virginia but only got voice mail.
“Hi, Virginia. It’s Fletcher. Calling to see how your father is doing. See how you are. It got pretty crazy, and I didn’t want to be in the way. If you want to talk or there is anything I can do, let me know. When things settle, give me a call. I’ll try you again in a few days. Bye. It’s Fletcher. Bye.”
Axel stared at the ceiling. He knew what he wanted. Now all he needed was a plan.
PART FOUR
CHAPTER 31
Mathilda Ucker stretched out on the deck chair and opened her third can of Tecate. Her boyfriend, Fred Kramer, worked the grill, poking at a couple of fat sirloins with a meat fork. He wore a hat and thick sunscreen to protect his hairless body.
Their small condo in Rosarito had been their safe haven for a decade. Nobody knew about it but them. The place needed some work and the waft of the sewage plant down the beach could get rank, but damn if life wasn’t the right kind of easy. The sun, the ocean, good food, and cold beer.
“We made money,” Fritzy said. “You can drink something better than that Mexican Budweiser.”
“Money don’t change how things taste. This is what I like. I’m always going to be regular falutin. You can take the girl out of the trailer park, et cetera. How those steaks looking?”
“Another minute. I want to get a good sear.”
“Don’t overcook them,” Mother said. “Anything more than medium rare is a punishable offense. Besides, we didn’t make that much money. I swear we took all the ones and burned all the twenties.”
“We’ve earned a break, Matty. I got cruise brochures.”
“You knew the score when you hitched your wagon to this ox.”
“I’m talking a vacation, not retirement. Ten days. All you can eat and drink. Mexican Riviera.”
“I love the work too much to retire,” Mother said. “A big-time CEO makes ten million, he keeps working. A thief makes a few grand, and everyone thinks they run off to Mexico and that’s it. Like thieves don’t have ambition. It’s insulting.”
Fritzy brought the steaks over to the table, where a tortilla warmer and a bowl of salsa waited for him. He took the lid off a clay pot of beans, sending steam disappearing into the air.
“We did run off to Mexico,” Fritzy said, “but I know what you’re saying. Some days I miss driving.”
“Robbery is better money than stunt driving,” Mother said.
“And not nearly as dangerous,” Fritzy said.
“You didn’t need retirement. You needed a career change.”
“Being with you is more than a career change. It’s a mission behind enemy lines.”
“It’s not good to stop working. Especially at our age. Got to keep the mind active. Have a sense of purpose. Retiring is for people that hate their jobs, not passionate people. Imagine hating doing something for so long that all you can think of is the moment you can stop.”
“You already got something planned, don’t you?” Fritzy said.
“I got some ideas.”
“Whatever we do next, I don’t want to play your brother. I liked all the disguises. That was fun. But acting like we were brother and sister wasn’t my thing. Don’t even know why we did that.”
“Playing up family was everything. We both had to be Uckers. Part of a loyal family. It’s psychology.” Mother cut into her steak and pulled the two halves apart. “You overcooked it. Not enough blood. I like blood.”
Things hadn’t played out as Mathilda Ucker had expected. Not even close. The whole thing had snowballed from a simple distraction to grand larceny very quickly. Not really a snowball—more of an avalanche. Every time she had been convinced that her niece and nephews couldn’t make it more convoluted, they managed to weird it up. She liked their spirit, but she had never seen anyone who could take something as simple as stealing money and make it seem like performing brain surgery on bumper cars.
When word had made it to Mother that Bertha was dead, her plan was simple. If Mother could get them out of the house, she could make a thorough search. Henry had to have stashed his share somewhere close. Bertha hadn’t spent a dime, as far as she could tell. It had to still be there.
As she was sitting in the back of the church and hearing about Bertha’s obsessions with the televangelist Floom, a story built in her head. Three birds, one stone. All she needed was a fake will, and the grandkids would be blinded by revenge and opportunity. It would give them purpose, a focus away from their grief. In a way, she did a compassionate thing in duping them.
A little research and personal observation told her the girl was a thief, the younger boy was a citizen, and the older boy was on the fence. They had potential as a crew.
Revenge is a great motivator. Nothing better than a sense of justice or fairness to balance the scales. Stephanie Holm had wronged Axel. Brother Tobin Floom had supposedly wronged them all. Gretchen, of course, took no convincing. It was fascinating to see Kurt’s process. His inner Ucker was deeply embedded, but the goodness that Bertha had shoved into him fought back. Nature versus nurture. Mother was surprised at how much she really liked the kid. Fritzy had definitely taken a shine to him. She held a certain pride that it ended up being Kurt who stole the preacher’s money.
Compared to the loot Henry had stashed, the Floom money was a consolation prize. A good score, but a lot of work for the trouble.
Mother had run out of places to look for Henry’s stash. She had been convinced that it was in the house. She knew Henry’s movements between the last job and his death. Bertha could have hidden it or destroyed it. In which case it was gone forever. The only option left was to get a metal detector and wander the desert one square foot at a time. To her, that’s what retirement looked like and why it was so awful.
She knew it was a risk to put revenge in their heads and then double-cross them. Axel never got his revenge on Stephanie. All three kids never got their revenge on Floom. Vengeance now sat dormant in their minds and hearts. That would put Mother in their crosshairs. They would eventually seek her out.
She wished them luck. They could look in all the places they had seen her, but she wouldn’t be there. They had limited resources and even more limited skills. She was smarter, more experienced, and meaner.
Mother had lost count of the number of people looking for her: law enforcement, ex-boyfriends, former criminal associates, victims, and a slew of Uckers. So many people wanted revenge, money owed, or justice, but if she didn’t want to be found, nobody could find her. In fact, she planned to go right back to work. A rolling stone and moss and all that jazz.
Even if they got lucky and somehow found her, what would they do? What could anyone do? She was Mother Ucker. And she didn’t take any shit.
CHAPTER 32
Kurt and Louder were back on stage at Mugs and Quiches. Pepe had violated his probation by going to Mississippi, so he would remain a guest of the state of California for the remainder of the month. Pepe rolled with it. He claimed that the weed was better in jail and he found the yoga classes centering.
Louder worked her homemade washboard percussion. Kurt kept his eyes to the floor as he spoke into the microphone. “I wrote this last night. It doesn’t have an ending yet.”
Tricked, bamboozled, conned, duped,
Taken for a ride, and played for a fool.
Trust is a shell game with a cheat at the cards.
Hope is a liar that’s heartless and cruel.
Maybe I’m a masochist, who knows?
With hope in the future and faith in the Lord.
For all of the bad and wrong in the world,
One act of kindness and I am restored.
Cheat me with lies.
Beat me, I rise.
No matter your guise.
Trick me, I rise.
Axel couldn’t stop his foot from bouncing, not from the beat but from nervousness and excitement. Sitting next to Virginia, he watched her watch Kurt sing, then worried that he was watching her too much.
After the dust had settled with her father and the ministry, she had finally called him. It took them a few more weeks to coordinate their schedules—or rather, her schedule, as Axel’s was wide open. They eventually arranged this date.
Axel had prepared six versions of what he was going to say, still debating the strengths of the two top contenders. If he was going to make something work between him and Virginia, he had to come clean. Well, not completely clean. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Partial honesty would have to do. He had to present a better lie, one that would act as a transitional buffer that might eventually lead to the truth in the future.
Secrets were healthy in a relationship. He had read that somewhere.
Meeting her in front of the coffee shop, Axel went in for a hug. Virginia shifted her body at the last minute. He ended up bouncing against her shoulder. Not an auspicious beginning.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Axel said. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s safe but not really him anymore. I see him as often as I can.”
“I saw that Mervyn Whitlock has taken over the bulk of the ministry duties.”
She nodded. “He idolized Dad. He’ll lead it in the right direction. After the cops found Thrace’s second set of accounting books, some housecleaning needed to be done. Mervyn is earnest, at least until he gets corrupted, too.”