by Johnny Shaw
“That’s a very good ‘or else,’” Mother said.
Waiting for Mother’s Uber, Kurt checked the bandage on her arm. “You should get this looked at. The cut is clean but pretty deep. Infections can be serious.”
“You’re a good kid,” Mother said. “Too good for this family.”
“You’re wrong,” Kurt said. “I’m as much a part of this family as anyone here. I just don’t believe that the last name I was born with defines me, limits me, or tells me who I can be.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about some stuff,” Mother said.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Kurt said. “You’re going to have to go away knowing that we could have been family. A real family. That you could have enjoyed my love and loyalty and been a part of the lives of two great human beings, Axel and Gretchen. You blew it. You chose money you didn’t need. You were given an opportunity, but you weren’t willing to accept it. I feel sorry for you.”
Axel and Gretchen stood near but didn’t add anything. When the Uber arrived, Kurt gave Mother a hug, careful not to hurt her arm. “Goodbye, Mathilda.”
Mother turned and got in the car. It drove away.
Kurt put his arm around Axel and Gretchen. “It’s over.”
“Did we win?” Gretchen asked. “I don’t even know anymore. I’m just exhausted.”
“I think we won,” Axel said. “We got away with everything. We’re free and clear of the police and Mother. And we got the money.”
“Yeah, about the money,” Dolphus Jr. said.
CHAPTER 40
Kurt flipped the grilled cheese sandwich in the pan. He started the slow count to 117, his scientifically tested method to get to golden brown.
Louder walked into the kitchen. “How many of those are you going to make?”
“I figured two dozen,” Kurt said. “If I cut them diagonally, that makes forty-eight individual servings. The warmer is almost full.”
“There’s only six people. Total. Us and four other people.”
“You need to count Pepe twice.”
“Let’s call that one in the pan the last one.”
“You want it?” Kurt asked.
“Hell yeah,” Louder said. “Slip some jalapeños in it. Burn some parmesan on the outside.” She gave him a kiss and went into the living room.
Kurt wanted his first housewarming party to be perfect. It was like christening a ship. If the bottle didn’t break, it was bad luck. If he ran out of food, that was an ill omen. He wasn’t only celebrating the new apartment or moving away from Warm Springs, but also the fact that Louder had moved there with him. They were going to try their hand at living together. He was scared and excited and scared. He was also scared.
One more grilled cheese. Just in case.
The final tally for Axel, Gretchen, and Kurt’s foray into criminality came to $4,762. That included their non-cut of the Stephanie Holm and Brother Floom jobs and their paltry take from the armored car deal. The rest of the armored car money would end up going to Fred “Fritzy” Kramer for his legal team and continued silence. He deserved it as much as anyone.
They split the money five ways, having decided that Stephanie and Louder deserved a share. For the months of work, they had each earned $952. Axel, Gretchen, and Stephanie gave their shares to Kurt and Louder to help cover their first, last, and deposit.
Axel put the monstrosity of a house on Xanadu Lane on the market. His new real estate agent, Ingrid Moreland, felt confident that a number of single men would find the house to be both a good investment and a nice place to raise a family. The handwritten messages that she sent each potential buyer still looked computer generated to Axel.
The day after the armored car heist, the siblings met at their mother’s and father’s graves. They thought it would be profound, but they ended up just staring at the names. There wasn’t much to say or do. They stayed for ten minutes, then went on their ways.
Stanley Pruitt and Steven McCrary convinced juries that they were coerced and threatened to participate in the robberies. They were let go from Jackson Armored but found jobs as mall security guards. Axel checked in on them every once in a while. From a distance, they looked happier to him.
Axel called Virginia Floom one last time, but the number had been changed. He embraced bachelorhood in the same way that someone on a desert island embraced solitude. He hoped someone saved him soon.
The three Uckers hadn’t discussed their futures, but they all showed up to their weekly lunch meetings. Nobody had had to pay the fine yet.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Gretchen said, handing Kurt a present. “I think I saw that Iron Maiden poster on Martha Stewart.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Stephanie said, offering Kurt a gift of her own. “Number of the Beast is timeless. You can open my gift later. When you and Louder are alone. It’s a sexy sex gift.”
“Thanks.” Kurt felt his face get hot. He tried to use his mind to stop from blushing, but that’s not how biology works.
“You guys are great together,” Stephanie said. “Gretchen told me that you and Amanda have known each other since grade school. That’s awesome. You know the good stuff and the bad, and you still want to be with each other. It doesn’t get better than that.”
For a moment, Kurt couldn’t figure out who Amanda was, but context reminded him that was Louder’s real name. It was a pretty name. He’d ask her later if she wanted to be called Amanda. Or maybe he would surprise her. No, probably better if he asked.
“There’s food and stuff to drink in the living room. Pepe’s already here. He has weed if you want some, but you’ll have to answer three riddles.”
Gretchen and Stephanie laughed.
Kurt shook his head. “I’m not kidding. He has a riddle book he stole from the junior high school library. He had a vision quest or something and wants people to call him the Sphinx now. It’s a thing.”
“You people are the weirdest people I’ve ever met,” Stephanie said. “I feel right at home.”
Axel knocked on the door and walked in at the same time. “It’s me.”
“Hey, Ax,” Kurt said. “Come on in.”
Axel gave Stephanie a head nod. “’Sup?”
“’Sup with you?” Stephanie asked.
“I’m proud of you two,” Gretchen said. “You’re making headway. Pretty soon you’ll be besties. Come on, Steph, let’s see how good you are at riddles.”
Axel held out a potted succulent to Kurt. “I didn’t know what to get you. A plant is traditional. It’s like a practice puppy. Or I suppose a taxidermied puppy would be a practice puppy, but a creepy gift.”
“Thanks, Ax,” Kurt said, pulling Axel into a bear hug. The spines of the aloe plant cut into his midsection, forcing him to back up.
“You can name him Stabby,” Axel said.
Full of bread and cheese and wine and beer, Kurt sat on the floor. The beanbags were for guests. Louder, stretched out next to him, used his belly for a pillow. The content smile on her face filled Kurt with happiness.
“A plane crashed,” Pepe said. “Every single person died. Who survived?”
“Sphinx,” Gretchen said.
“The Sphinx,” Pepe corrected her.
“My mistake, the Sphinx,” Gretchen said. “What happened to ‘What’s brown and sticky?’ Easy riddles?”
“The riddles got to be hard,” Pepe said. “Pepe was too generous. He handed out weed like it was free. The Sphinx is a whole different person. But it’s a party and you called me Sphinx, so you only got to answer the one riddle.”
“Just give it to them,” Louder said.
“The Sphinx has spoken,” Pepe said.
“I got it,” Stephanie said. “If every single person died, the married people survived.”
“That’s it,” Pepe said.
“Booyah,” Gretchen said.
“I’ll pretend like you didn’t just say ‘booyah,’” Stephanie said.
“While you d
rug up,” Kurt said, “I’m going to open your present, Gretch.”
“It’s not—If you don’t want it,” Gretchen said. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”
Kurt tore at the wrapping paper. It was the family portrait that had hung in their hall. The one taken just months before their father’s death. Mother, father, and children smiling back at him. “I thought you wanted this?”
“I did then,” Gretchen said. “I don’t know about now. Maybe I’m loaning it. I like the way the future looks. I don’t need anything that’s about the past. If that makes sense.”
“Get up,” Kurt said, tapping Louder’s shoulder softly. “Everyone get up. We’re going to take a new family picture.”
The grunts that rose weren’t protests, but pain from eating too much melted cheese. Axel looked like a turtle on its shell, rolling back and forth in an effort to rise.
“My foot is asleep,” Pepe said.
“Here. Over here.” Kurt pointed to one side of the room as he dug through a pile of stuff next to his computer. He found a small tripod. “Everyone. You, too, Stephanie. The Sphinx. All of us. This is our family now.”
Everyone lined up. Kurt set the timer, hit the button, and ran to join them. He put a hand around Louder and smiled. They waited.
“How long is the timer?” Gretchen asked, a frozen smile on her face.
“It’s taking a long-ass time,” Louder said.
“We’re set to pop here, honey,” Kurt said.
“Great reference,” Louder said.
The flash blinded them. The camera clicked. A keeper.
“Let’s crack another bottle of wine,” Gretchen said, “and really warm this house.” Taking a step toward the kitchen, she brushed against the framed portrait on the table. It fell to the floor, causing the glass to crack and the wooden frame to split at one corner.
“You okay, Gretch?” Kurt said.
“I’m fine,” Gretchen said. “Luckily this isn’t one of those weird ‘no shoes’ houses.”
“It’s not weird,” Stephanie said. “It preserves the wood floors. We’ll discuss it later.”
Kurt gently picked up the portrait. He walked it over to the trash can in the kitchen and slid the glass into the bin. He carefully plucked out the remaining glass.
“Sorry, Kurty,” Gretchen said, coming up behind him. “Maybe it was an unconscious rebellion. More fodder for the therapist I don’t have.”
“It’s just the glass and frame,” Kurt said. “The picture is fine.”
He flipped it over and bent the points to take out the backboard. He dropped that in the trash, as well.
“What’s that?” Gretchen asked.
Some folded pieces of paper rested behind the photo. Kurt handed them to Gretchen. They were the August and September pages of a wall calendar from 2003. Cursive, sloppy and quickly written, filled both months.
“Holy shit,” Gretchen said, reading as she walked into the living room.
“What?” Kurt said. “What is it?”
“Mom wrote this,” Gretchen said. “It’s a letter to us.”
Axel walked to Gretchen. “When was it written? What does it say?”
Without taking her eyes off the letter, Gretchen reached behind her to find a chair. She sat down and read.
“To my beloved children,” Gretchen said. “I leave the future and the truth and my own well-being, as everything in my life, in God’s hand. If He so chooses that you find this message, then God meant it to be. If it remains hidden, then that, too, will be God’s will. He knows the when and the why. Like us all, I will be judged for my sins when it is my time.”
“Sounds like a confession,” Axel said.
Kurt shushed him.
Gretchen continued. “I loved Henry. I took the marriage vows from our wedding day as an oath to both him and God. He fought his past, his blood. He saw his sins as the only way to help me, his wife, and you, his children. By doing so, he broke a promise to me and a solemn vow to God. Henry let the Devil in his heart. He failed you and me and God. He meant well, his motivation was compassionate, but his actions were unforgivable.” Gretchen stopped. “I can’t do this. Axel, can you read the rest?”
Axel took the pages. He found where Gretchen had left off.
“There is no healing a child’s loss of their father nor the pain of his sins. You are the innocents. While the fruits of Henry’s labors were obtained through the worst of his deeds, he did it for you. It is yours. His legacy. I can’t deny that. If God so wills, He will lead you to this message. And ultimately lead you to everything that Henry worked hard to obtain. It must have a purpose, a value. It destroyed him. And in the same moment, me.
“If by God’s grace this message falls into the hands of my children, know that you were loved. By both your parents. Loved beyond expression or imagination. And that God loves you, too. And that all we ever wanted to do was protect you. Love, Mom.”
“Why leave that note and not just tell us?” Kurt said.
“There’s a final message at the bottom,” Axel said. “Henry’s ill-gotten gains weren’t his, but once taken, they weren’t the previous owner’s. Companies and insurance and lifeless institutions. He sinned for the future of his children. If the stolen goods are anyone’s, they are yours, my children.
“If this message falls into the hands of a stranger or thief or another Ucker, then I implore you to find my children so they can understand, just as I implore you to find Jesus so that you may walk a better path.”
Axel turned over the calendar page. A crude map was drawn over the image of a French bulldog chewing on a rawhide bone.
“You recognize anything on it?” Kurt asked.
“Yeah,” Axel said. “Kitchen Creek. There’s Buttcrack Rock.”
“I named that.” Gretchen turned to Stephanie and Louder. “We used to camp at Kitchen Creek. Same spot. We called it Ucker Hill. Buttcrack Rock was at the top. Haven’t thought about it in years, but I could take you there wearing a blindfold.”
“I don’t mean to be flip during a somber moment,” Stephanie said, “but are we going on a treasure hunt?”
The question only brought silence. There was no manual on what to do in the situation. Everyone found a piece of wall to stare at, until Gretchen finally spoke.
“Not tonight,” Gretchen said. “Tonight we’re celebrating family.”
“This has been hidden for more than a decade,” Axel said. “It can wait. Tonight is about Kurt and Louder and their new digs.”
“Let’s get that wine going, then,” Stephanie said.
Kurt filled everyone’s glasses. He toasted. “To Mom and Dad and—you know what?—here’s to Mother Ucker. Without any of them, it never would have led us to now. It might have taken all of that chaos to force us together, but I wouldn’t want anyone but you weirdos as my family. Huzzah.”
“Huzzah,” everyone repeated. Drinking and laughter followed.
Looking around the room, Kurt smiled. Whatever they found in the mountains didn’t matter. In that moment, he had what he wanted. Everything that mattered to him was in that apartment, because everyone who mattered to him was there.
Although, to be fair, Kurt was pretty excited about the thought of finding buried treasure. It made him feel like a pirate.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As this is my sixth novel to be published by Thomas & Mercer, I need to thank everyone past and present at T&M for their hard work. The time put in by such talented and capable individuals has been integral to any success I’ve had in my writing life.
For this book, in particular, I have to call out Gracie Doyle and Jessica Tribble, who have shepherded the book and given me the creative freedom and latitude to play. At the same time, their feedback and guidance kept me from going completely off the rails. Big thanks.
When I started writing crime novels, I had no idea what other novelists were like. The inclusivity and support of the crime fiction community exceeded my expectations. Consisting of more than
just writers, but readers, editors, reviewers, and more, they have welcomed me into their family. Too many people to name, but you know who you are. I love you all.
Author Bart Lessard is the only person I often willingly give half a manuscript to for feedback. The only person I’ll talk to about the book midway through the process. There’s no one I’d rather talk story with. Everyone should read his books. Thanks to a great writer, a great person, and a great friend.
A huge thanks to Pinkie and Rich Drew, whose generosity and support throughout my life and career have been amazing. I appreciate and love you.
Some days I can’t believe how amazing it is that I get to spend the rest of my life with my wife, Roxanne. As we travel the world together, work on our creative projects, and find joy in the simplest moments, I know it wouldn’t be half as interesting, challenging, or fun without her. Looking forward to another twenty-four years of love, laughter, and adventure. I’ve got a few more harebrained schemes up my sleeve.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Illustration © 2012 Roxanne Patruznick
Johnny Shaw is the author of the award-winning Jimmy Veeder Fiasco series, including the books Dove Season, Plaster City, and Imperial Valley, as well as the stand-alone novels Floodgate and Big Maria. He has won the Spotted Owl and Anthony Awards and was the Grand Marshal of the 69th Annual Carrot Festival Parade. Johnny lives nomadically.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CONTENTS
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9