My Bad Grandad

by A W Hartoin

  After a moment’s hesitation, I sat next to Raptor and said, “So you’ve heard.”

  “Yes,” said Janet. “How awful for you to…find him.”

  Hal had become “him.” How long would it be before saying his name wouldn’t hurt?

  “The cops are investigating,” I said.

  Grandad sent me a sharp glance. “The cops. Hal was family.”

  Why does it always have to be family?

  “About that. I talked to Mickey. He wants to do a benefit concert in Hal’s name. But if you don’t like it, he won’t.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Janet wiped tears from her cheeks and Raptor looked more and more angry.

  “That’s just like you,” she finally spat at me.

  “What?”

  “You would find a way to get the attention on yourself. Hal is dead and it’s all about you.”

  Robert sat up, his long grey sideburns emphasizing his set mouth and intense eyes. “That’s enough, Raquel.”

  “Grandpa, you don’t know what’s she’s like.”

  “Is this what you’re like?”

  Raptor clamped her mouth shut and I said, “It wasn’t my idea. DBD won’t do it, if you don’t like the idea.”

  “I like it,” said Janet. “But I know I don’t really get a vote.”

  Barney patted her knee. “I think you get a vote. You loved Hal. And, for the record, I agree. Hal would love it. Who’s going to benefit?”

  “Mickey said Wounded Warrior, but if you have someone else, I’m sure that would be fine with them,” I said.

  Big Mike poured himself some more tea and then sat back, drumming his fingers on his wooden armrest. “Fisher House.”

  “That’s a good one,” said Grandad.

  “I forgot about them,” said Barney. “They helped Dad when he was in treatment.”

  Janet nodded. “Yes, they’re very good. My friend, LaShawn, had to fly to Landstuhl when her husband was injured in Iraq. They helped with frequent flyer miles so she could go.”

  “How is Carlton?” asked Big Mike.

  “He’s walking better, but the migraines are still horrible.”

  They all nodded. I was the only one who didn’t know Carlton and I felt bad about it. Grandad had a whole life going on that I didn’t know about. Raptor knew. I should’ve known.

  “So, Fisher House?” I asked.

  Everyone agreed and I texted Mickey on Aaron’s phone. He said he’d get his team on it and he’d send me a new contract immediately. Great.

  Grandad drained his glass. “Hal wanted to go to Cheyenne Crossing today.”

  “That’s right,” said Janet, immediately sitting up and zipping her leather jacket. “I’m ready for an Indian taco.”

  The guys groaned with pleasure. Even Grandad looked excited.

  “What’s an Indian taco?” I asked.

  Grandad grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “You’re in for a treat. It’s Indian fry bread topped with the best taco fixings you’ve ever had.”

  “Are you sure you want to go riding?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Er…Hal just died.”

  Grandad hugged me. I felt his jutting hip bones against my belly. It was kinda like hugging a metal ladder, except Grandad was slightly warmer. Was I crazy? He needed a hundred tacos.

  “Hal would want us to enjoy ourselves,” he said. “We’ve seen plenty of friends go. Hal never slowed down. He thought it was an insult to stop living when the dead were missing out.”

  “And you want to go eat tacos?”

  “I hear they’re great.”

  “They are great.” Big Mike cracked Grandad on the back. “And you’re going to eat a whole one so Mercy doesn’t have to chase you around. She’s done enough chasing for one day.”

  This idea was starting to sound better and better.

  “First, we ride,” said Raptor.

  Never mind.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “We’re just riding. To feel the wind in our teeth,” said Barney.

  Janet didn’t look all that thrilled with the wind and what came in on it, but she picked up her helmet anyway. “It’ll clear your head,” she said to me.

  “It’s pretty clear, but I could go for a taco big time,” I said.

  “We’ll ride and get you fueled for afterward,” said Grandad.

  I had a feeling. A feeling that I was about to have a huge pain in the butt. “What happens afterward?”

  Big Mike plunked my helmet on my head. My C7 would never be the same. “Don’t play coy with us. We know what you’re up to.”

  “I’m not up to anything,” I said, rolling my head around on my neck and feeling the vertebrae grind.

  Grandad grinned at me. “We all know you’re good at this. That’s why we’re so calm.”

  Please be talking about the concert.

  “Yeah, I can sing okay,” I said.

  “Sing? Who’s talking about singing?” asked Barney. “We know you’re going to handle Hal’s case.”

  “If you weren’t, we’d be in a world of hurt,” said Robert. “Tommy’s in Quantico, right?”

  “He is,” said Grandad. “The boy is busy.”

  “Yeah, we’d really be in a world of hurt without Mercy,” said Raptor with a sneer.

  Robert shot Raptor a burning look. She grabbed her helmet and stalked away.

  “The cops can handle it,” I said. “They’ve got a lead and everything.”

  Grandad put a bony arm on my shoulder. “You gave them that lead. Raquel told us. They thought he just dropped dead, but you knew better.” He looked at the rest of his crew. “Mercy’ll figure this out and we can concentrate on celebrating Hal.”

  Janet picked up her glass again. “To Hal.”

  We all clinked glasses. “To Hal.”

  Big Mike slipped on his jacket. “Let’s hit the road. I need some miles on my tires.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re not going anywhere. If I’m going to do this, I need to interview you.”

  Grandad hitched up his pants and tightened his belt another notch. “You don’t need us. Hal had trouble in his life, unsavory characters and the like. Just follow your nose, sweetheart.”

  “I am. To you.”

  Grandad shook his head. “It has nothing to do with us. We rarely saw Hal. Now, get in the sidecar. We’ll do a little memorial ride, have those tacos, and then you can get to business. You’ll want to check out his warrants.”

  Everyone headed for the parking lot and saddled up.

  “I’d rather get to business now,” I said. “You knew Hal. I didn’t.”

  “Whose fault is that?” hissed Raquel.

  “Why does it have to be anyone’s fault?” I asked. “I’m trying to do what you all want. You have to help me.”

  Raptor fired up her bike. “I’m not helping you do anything, Miss Headliner. I’ll meet you at Cheyenne Crossing, Grandpa.”

  She peeled out of the parking lot as Aaron pulled in, putt-putting on his Flea. He stopped next to me. “You hungry?”

  “I’m starving,” I said. “We’re going to get tacos as soon as they tell me what they know.”

  Robert put his helmet on and got on his Harley. “That’s easy. None of us knows anything, except Hal was a good man and a good soldier.”

  “Somebody doesn’t agree with you. Who were those guys in the Steelers jerseys last night? They weren’t crazy about him or the rest of you, for that matter.”

  “They’re just some artys,” said Robert before he followed Raptor.

  “Yeah, they don’t know shit,” said Big Mike. “Let’s go.”

  Barney didn’t say anything. He avoided my gaze and asked Janet if she was ready.

  “But Mercy wants to ask you questions,” she said.

  “I really don’t know anything,” said Barney. “Let’s go. We have to follow Robert and Big Mike or we’ll never find that restaurant.”

  “But—
”

  “Janet, let’s go.”

  She got on the bike and asked me, “Are you coming?”

  “I’m wet and I’m missing a shoe, so no.”

  Grandad laughed. “You look dry to me. Just take off the other boot.”

  “I want to ask you about Hal. Who were those Steelers guys?” I asked.

  “Robert told you. They’re nobodies.” Grandad got on our bike and pointed at the side car.

  I crossed my arms. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “I’ve got no help to give. Are you getting in?”

  “Grandad, you want me to look into Hal’s murder?”

  “It’s what you do and you’re damn good at it, so why not?”

  “How about because I don’t want to? I’m tired of death and misery. My ankles are still screwed up from Paris. I’d like to have a vacation where someone didn’t die for a change.”

  “What fun would that be?” Grandad dimpled at me.

  I scowled like Raptor. “I’d like to try it, for once.”

  “Not this trip.”

  “Thanks. Now tell me who—”

  Grandad looked at Aaron. “You’ll bring her later?”

  Aaron nodded and Grandad rolled backward.

  “What’s an arty?” I yelled.

  He waved and roared down the driveway.

  “Fantastic!” I took off my remaining boot and hurled it after him. “I’m not doing it. You hear that, old man? I’m not asking anybody anything.”

  Aaron blinked at me.

  “What?”

  “You hungry?”

  “Yes, dammit. I’m always hungry. It’s like my permanent state. I’m going to shower and then we’re going to get those tacos. Alright?”

  Aaron stared at me.

  “I’m not doing it, so if my father calls or Morty or anybody the answer is that I am not doing it. Hal was murdered and it’s not my problem. Got it?”

  He shrugged. “Where’s Wallace?”

  “I don’t freaking know!” I don’t know why I was yelling, especially at Aaron. Aaron wasn’t really someone you yell at. He was too odd and impervious to people in general. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  I marched to the house and banged in the door, slamming it three times. Sometimes, you’ve just got to slam. It’s required.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I DIDN’T GOOGLE arty. I didn’t call Uncle Morty, Spidermonkey, or the medical examiner. I did text Cornell with Aaron’s phone and told him I would not be at The Rack and Ruin that night because I wasn’t investigating. He was confused, but that was okay by me. I said no and I meant it. No. What a novel concept.

  Instead of doing what was expected of me, I took a bath in the six-foot tub, soaking for a good hour. I used the handy foot scrub and massaged my angry ankles. I snoozed and conditioned my hair. There was no phone ringing, no parents demanding and, for once, no guilt.

  Aaron brought me a boozy hot chocolate and I savored it slowly until there was a faint knock on the door.

  “Yes?” I said, reluctantly.

  The bathroom door creaked open and a rough hand belonging to Kathleen pushed a smiling Wallace in the room and closed the door.

  I leaned over the side of the tub and eyed the dirty pug. She was still coated in the dirt from the creek bank, but she had a new coating of something that looked like mud but probably wasn’t on her paws. “What did you do?”

  Bark.

  “You stink.”

  Bark. Bark.

  Wallace jumped on a vintage shipping crate and then onto the chair next to the tub. She spun in a circle and panted, doing her smiling pug routine.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re adorable.” I sank under the water and floated peacefully until the need for air brought me to the surface.

  Bark. Bark. Bark.

  Wallace spun, her tiny nails clicking on the chair. She acted like we were supposed to be somewhere. We were, but I wasn’t feeling it.

  I slicked my hair back and said, “You know what? I think I’ll stay here. I barely knew Hal. They can celebrate him without my input.”

  Bark.

  “I don’t want tacos bad enough to get out of this tub.”

  Grrr.

  “You were never getting tacos.”

  Grrr.

  I laughed and Wallace took a flying leap into the tub. She clawed my stomach as I screeched and scrambled out, slipping around on the tile and ramming my hip into the tub. “Wallace! You freak!”

  Bark.

  Wallace dog-paddled in a circle, smiling and yipping. She seemed happy so I left her there while I dried off and got dressed. When I came back into the bathroom, I half-expected her to be clawing at the sloped end, trying to get out, but she was still swimming away.

  “You are one weird dog.”

  Bark.

  I was reluctant to reach in to pull the plug with Wallace’s dirt and whatever that brown stuff was floating in the water, but I gritted my teeth and did it. Wallace sank to the bottom with the draining water, wagging and snorting. Despite what already came off her, she still looked grimy.

  “I guess I can wash you.”

  Bark.

  “I only have people shampoo.”

  Bark. Bark.

  I soaped up the pug with my fancy volumizing shampoo and dried her with a hand towel. She got all poufy and looked like she gained two pounds. She pranced around, striking a pose and smiling.

  “You are such a girl.”

  Bark.

  Someone knocked and I sighed, but I was out of the tub anyway. “Yes.”

  “Ace wants to know where we are,” said Aaron.

  “Tell him I’m sleeping.”

  “He knows you’re not sleeping.”

  “How does he know?”

  “I told him.”

  Wallace tried to squat on my foot. I dodged her and she peed on the floor. “What’s your problem? I washed you.”

  Bark.

  “Huh?” asked Aaron.

  “Nothing. Tell Grandad we’re skipping tacos,” I said.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Aaron didn’t say no to me. He fed me and helped me in his own weird way. “Why no?”

  “Tacos.”

  “You want tacos?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t need me for that,” I said, considering refilling the tub. I was hungry, but the tub was winning the war easily.

  Aaron was silent.

  “You still there?”

  Silence.

  I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and a cleansing wipe for Wallace’s wee. She jumped around like she was proud of her mess. She probably was because it was a hassle for me. Bothering me seemed to be her greatest joy in life.

  After I cleaned the floor, I decided against the tub for the moment. Virginia probably had some breakfast leftovers I could have. I put Wallace’s rhinestone collar back on and opened the door. Aaron stood there an inch from where the door would’ve been.

  “Ah,” I yelled. “What are you doing? Don’t do that.”

  “Huh?”

  “Have you just been standing there the whole time?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What for?”

  “Tacos.”

  Wallace ran by us, failed to put on the brakes in time, and tumbled down the stairs, oversized noggin first.

  “Oh my god!” I chased her down to the landing where she lay still for a second, and then jumped to her feet, trying to bite my bare ankle. Luckily, I was already reaching for her and kept her from sinking her pointy little teeth into my water-logged flesh. “If you weren’t already crazy, I’d think you had brain damage.”

  Bark.

  “Glad you agree.” I tucked her under my arm and started back up the stairs.

  “You have to take her with you,” said Virginia.

  I looked back and our host was standing at the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips. That was neve
r a good sign.

  “I’m afraid to ask, but what did she do?”

  “She chased our mules and harassed the chickens. The girls can’t lay with a dog barking at them.”

  “I imagine not. I’m so sorry. I’ll keep her with me from now on.” I squeezed Wallace a little harder than necessary.

  Grrr.

  “Why is she growling?” asked Virginia.

  “She wants to bother the chickens. She thinks she can herd them.” I was totally making that up, but Virginia bought it.

  “Dogs do that, but Wallace is a companion animal, not a working dog.”

  “Nobody told her that.”

  Virginia laughed. “Alright. Just keep an eye on her. She’s a menace.”

  “I will. Definitely.” I went up two stairs before Virginia said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Dr. Capshaw called for you.”

  Please don’t be the M.E.

  “Must be a mistake. I don’t know a Dr. Capshaw,” I said and went up two more stairs.

  “He’s the medical examiner in Spearfish. He wants to talk to you.” She held out a pink sticky note.

  Dammit.

  “Did he say what it was about?”

  “It’s about your friend, Hal. He’s done the preliminary exam.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Two more stairs.

  “You’ll call him?” Virginia asked with a note of insistence in her voice that reminded me of Aunt Miriam. It would be dangerous to lie or, God forbid, disobey.

  I sighed. “I’ll call him, but I’m not really working on Hal’s case. The Sturgis police can handle it.”

  Virginia pursed her lips and frowned. “They can and they’ll do their best.”

  “But…”

  “But they’ve investigated something like one murder in the last ten years.”

  “One? Are you serious?”

  She leaned on the railing and brushed a silky strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Sturgis isn’t violent. They cleared out the troublemakers decades ago. They have plenty of accidents and fights during the rally, especially out at Glencoe, but other than that, it’s quiet.”

  One murder in ten years?