R.P. Gannon - Barney, Willey and Oscar 01 - Geezer Paradise

by R. P. Gannon

  “But what about the burial?” Willey asked. “She’ll have to be buried and it’ll be in the newspaper.” Here it comes, I thought.

  “That’s why I need your help,” Chester said. “I can’t bury her alone.”

  Bury her alone! Was he going to bury his mother in the back yard?

  “I can’t carry her outside by myself,” he said. “And when I try to drag her outside, the latches on the box snap open and I’m afraid she’ll fall out. Will you help me?”

  You’re going to bury her yourself?” Willey asked. “Where are you going to bury her?”

  Chester rubbed his chin. That told me the second part of the story would be even more odious than the first.

  “I can’t bury her behind my house,” Chester said. “Because that would leave the ground dug up, and it might look suspicious. The only place I could bury her would be in Sarah Jones garden next door.”

  Yikes! “Isn’t it kind of illegal to bury somebody outside of a cemetery?” I asked.

  “No,” Willey said. “You can have yourself buried in your backyard if you want to, or even have yourself stuffed and propped up in a chair so your family won’t miss you.”

  “Sounds delightful,” I said. “But don’t you have to get a death certificate first?”

  “Barney,” Willey said. “If he gets a death certificate they’ll know she’d dead and they’ll stop the checks.” I wanted to say, Why don’t you just put her in a plastic bag and toss her out with the garbage? But I held my tongue. Besides, Chester might think that was a good idea.

  “I bought two shovels,” Chester said. I looked at Willey, hoping he’d come to his senses. Instead, he handed me the two shovels. “C’mon, Barney,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.” Chester and Willey picked up the coffin, and Oscar followed us out the side door to the carport, and then to the back yard. There was no moon and the darkness helped to hide us. We looked around—no one in sight. That was good, because it might be hard to explain what we were doing with a dead woman in a cargo carrier, and carrying shovels.

  “There’s no lights on in Sarah’s house,” Willey said. “She must have already gone to bed.” We crossed over to the small garden behind Sarah’s house. The garden was about twelve feet by twelve feet, and bursting with vegetables.

  “Put it down here,” Willey said. He and Chester gently put Mildred down on the grass. I handed Willy a shovel. I figured it wouldn’t be right to ask Chester to bury his own mother.

  “Let’s take out these four tomato plants and dig here,” Willey said. “Be sure to dig up the whole root ball so they won’t die when we put them back in the ground.”

  Chester unfolded a small plastic tarp and spread it over the grass. “We’ll put the dirt on this,” he said. “So it won’t show on the grass that we’ve been digging here.” The frying pan scenario came back to me, but I put it out of my mind. Maybe Chester was just thorough. Removing the four tomato plants gave us just enough space to dig a hole big enough to put the coffin in.

  Willey and I went to work digging, and throwing the dirt onto the tarp. When we got about three feet down we hit the limestone bedrock that covers all of Florida just under the surface. It wasn’t the standard six foot depth for a grave, but nothing about this burial was standard.

  I was wearing flip-flops, not the best footwear for grave digging. When I took a step something bit me hard on my big toe. I almost let out a yelp, but I caught myself just in time. I was hopping around on one foot. I could see the thing had corners. What kind of animal has corners?

  “What’s wrong?” Willey asked.

  “Something bit my toe,” I said. I held my foot up and Willey pulled the thing off my throbbing toe.

  “It’s a mouse trap,” Willey said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Chester said. “I should have told you, Sarah puts out mouse traps around her garden to keep the rabbits from eating her vegetables.”

  “Damn, that hurt,” I said.

  Willey said, “Be a brave little soldier and don’t whimper.”

  “I didn’t whimper.” What kind of a nut puts mouse traps around a garden?

  Willey said, “Give me a hand with the coffin, Barney.” We picked it up and slowly lowered it into the hole. Then we all stood there looking down at it.

  “We should say a prayer for the deceased,” I said.

  “May she rest in peace,” Willey said. Chester and I said amen. Willey and I picked up our shovels and gently started shoveling dirt into the hole. Soon the coffin was out of site and we started shoveling faster. When the hole was full we dug four small holes and re-planted the tomato plants. The leftover dirt was in the tarp, so we just rolled it up and Chester carried it. I carried the shovels.

  “Come on, Oscar,” Willey said. Oscar just stood there just staring down at the grave. Willey took his hand and we started back to Chester’s house. We put the shovels and the tarp full of dirt in the storage shed.

  “Thanks for helping me guys. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Chester shook our hands.

  “Don’t mention it,” Willey said. We all said good night and Willey, Oscar and I headed for the fence.

  “That certainly was an enjoyable way to spend an evening,” I said. “We’ll have to do this more often.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE NEXT DAY Willey, Oscar, and I were sitting on Sofie’s back deck as usual, watching the boats going up and down the river. The deck had a roof over it that kept the sun off, and even though the temperature was in the mid-nineties the breeze cooled us off nicely.

  “This is nice,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind staying here for a while. Too bad I don’t have my laptop here. I could work on my article for Weeki Wachee right here on the deck.”

  “It’s back at your house, isn’t it?” Willey asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Where I can’t reach it.”

  “We’ll go and get it tonight.”

  “Are you nuts? My house is up near the front of the park. They’re sure to be watching the place, waiting for us to come back.”

  “It’s been a while now,” Willey said. “They probably think if we haven’t come back by now we won’t be coming back at all. If we’re careful we can go over the fence and move behind the houses like we did last night, until we get to your place. We’ll be in and out in a flash, and they’ll never know we were there.”

  “You think so? I sure would like to keep going on that article.”

  Willey said, “You could always go to the Saturday flea market in Oldsmar and pick up a second-hand laptop for a couple of hundred bucks. You have the money now.”

  “I know, but I have all of my research on my computer. And I’ve already started on the article.”

  “In that case,” Willey said, “we better go get it.”

  “Okay, we’ll get it tonight. But I’m bringing my gun, just in case. And we’ll leave Oscar here with Sofie. I don’t want Oscar to get hurt.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Willey said.

  Later that night we told Sofie we were going out to buy some clothes. We asked her if she would mind if we left Oscar with her until we got back. She said she didn’t mind at all. We drove down to Citrus Bay, and down the street just before the park, to the back of the farm. We pulled off into the brush and parked. We found the plastic crates we had used the night before, when we were playing at being undertakers, and got over the fence easily. I had my gun in my pocket.

  Once again we moved silently through the darkness, travelling through the back yards, until we were one house away from mine. We crouched down and looked around for any sign of danger. The place was eerily quiet. We came at my place from the back yard and went into the carport through the passage-way between the storage shed and the house. I had put up a few sheets of white plastic lattice on the open side of the driveway last year. It gave us some cover. We crept to the side door and let ourselves in. So far, so good. When we got into the kitchen I grabbed the laptop and the charger from the table. Then we went back outsid
e and I locked the door behind us. We started back taking the same route we had taken coming in.

  We were one house away when a gunshot rang out. We took off running, well, half-running as fast as we could, keeping to the shadows. We ran until we couldn’t run anymore. Then we crouched in the darkness, trying to catch our breath. Nothing was moving. I could hear a few of the park’s residents talking from up the street. They had heard the gunshot. That was good. The residents would call the police. The shooter would know that, and get out of there before the cops showed up. We worked our way back to the fence and climbed over. I picked up the plastic crates and flung them. We hurried back to the Wrangler and headed back to Tarpon Springs.

  “You were right about Flaherty not giving up on us,” Willey said. “That bastard must really want to kill us.”

  “But it was worth the trouble to get my laptop back,” I said. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  “Don’t mention it. How about we stop and buy some beer on the way home, after we buy some clothes.”

  “I forgot about telling Sofie we were going to buy clothes,” I said. “It would look kind of strange if we came back empty handed.”

  “You don’t think Sofie would object to us drinking some beer, do you?”

  “Not if we bring her a bottle of good wine,” I said.

  As we drove I realized I wasn’t as upset about being shot at this time as I was the first time at Ransom’s. Do you get used to getting shot at after a while? I had a feeling I’d find out before this whole thing came to an end. We stopped at a package store and picked up some beer and a fifteen dollar bottle of Rose for Sofie. Then we went off to buy some clothes.

  When we got back to Sofie’s we all sat out on the back deck, watching the lights of the boats going up and down the river and drinking beer. Sofie wasn’t too sure about Oscar drinking beer, but I explained Oscar’s background to her, and how he was used to drinking beer. That seemed to mollify her a little. Oscar was a good boy, sipping his beer. Sofie even had a few glasses of wine with us before she started yawning. Then she went to bed.

  “It sure is nice here,” I said.

  “Well, don’t get too comfortable,” Willey said. “Sitting here isn’t helping us get our homes back.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “But what can we do?” We sat quietly, searching for a way to get back into our houses.

  Then it came to me. “I have an idea,” I said. “I remember Mary telling me about some old Indian artifacts her grandfather found years ago. She’s got a box full of the stuff. I remember telling her she should donate them to a college or a museum. She said she was going to but she never mentioned them again. I think she just forgot about it.” Willey gave me a blank stare.

  “Don’t you see?” I said. “If Indian artifacts are found somewhere, it usually means that place was an Indian burial ground. Sacred ground! You can’t build condos on sacred ground. They won’t allow it.”

  Willey perked up at that news. “Barney, sometimes I actually think you’ve got a brain. That’s it, that’s the answer to our problem. All we have to do is plant some of those trinkets in the park, and have somebody find them and call the newspapers. You think Mary still has them?”

  “Give her a call and ask her,” I said.

  Willey opened Mary’s cell phone and called her new number. “Hello, Mary, it’s Willey, Barney and I were just wondering about that old Indian stuff your grandfather gave you. Do you still have it? You do! That’s terrific. Here, Barney will tell you his plan.” Willey handed the phone to me and I told Mary what we wanted to do.

  “That’s a good idea.” Mary said. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll be the one that finds them and calls the newspapers.

  “That could put you in danger,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about me, Barney. Unlike Freddy, I have a gun. And I know how to use it. If they mess with me they’ll be sorry.” Willey was right, she was a fighter. We made arrangements to meet Mary tomorrow night and take the artifacts from her. The plan was, Willey and I would go back to the park after dark and plant some of them in the ground. We weren’t worried about Flaherty’s thugs because we wouldn’t be going near the front of the park where our houses are. We’d plant the stuff right smack in the middle of the park.

  We would keep some of it to plant in different parts of the park if need be, to make sure the entire park would be designated as an historic site. Willey and I wondered if they would let us go on living there after the park was designated an historical site. We decided they probably would. The plan was on.

  The next night we decided we wouldn’t tell our plan to Sofie. We figured the fewer people who knew about it the better. We told her we were going target shooting. It gave us an excuse to carry the gun. We got into the Wrangler and I said, “Wait a minute, I forgot my glasses, can’t drive without my glasses.” I went back inside. When I came out and got into the Wrangler again I said, “Damn, I forgot my hearing aid.” I went back inside again.

  When I came out again and got into the Wrangler Willey said, “You sure have a lot of parts, Barney.”

  “Yes, I said. “When I die they’ll bury me in one big box and seven little boxes.”

  “Next you’ll be getting a toupee.”

  “I’m not bald,” I said. “I just have a wide part.”

  We drove in silence to meet Mary in a McDonald’s parking lot in Palm Harbor. We figured it would be safer to meet out of town.

  Mary held a cardboard box in her arms.

  “Hi, Mary. Thanks for coming.”

  “Don’t thank me. I have just as much at stake as you do. I’m just glad you guys came up with this idea.” I looked into the box. It was almost filled with arrow heads, pottery shards, rough tools, beads and bones. And that was only what I could see without digging down into the stuff.

  “This is perfect, Mary. Where did your grandfather find all this stuff?”

  “He told me he found it in a shell mound on Captiva Island down near Naples. In those days there were no laws about removing these things. People just picked them up as souvenirs.” I carried the box to the Wrangler. Willey opened the rear gate and folded the rear seat over. I put the box on the floor and locked the Wrangler.

  “How about a burger and fries?” I asked Mary.

  “Sounds good. I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” Willey echoed. We trooped into the restaurant, waited for our orders and sat way down the back where we could talk in private.

  Willey asked Mary, “Do you think the town will throw us out of the park when this stuff is found? You know, sacred ground and all that.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said. “Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants? We can’t ask around until the artifacts are found, either. And then it would be too late. I’ll do some research on my computer and see what I can find out. I don’t think we should wait, though. This afternoon a survey crew was in the park marking off the boundaries.” We told her we were going to the park later that night to get things started.

  “Where’s your monkey,” Mary asked.

  “He’s staying with his grandmother,” Willey said.

  “His grandmother?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “Mary, how are you going to pretend you found the Indian stuff? It’s going to be buried.”

  “Just leave that to me,” she said. “I can be creative when I have to be. Just let me know when the stuff is buried, and where. And leave me some kind of marker so I can find at least a few pieces. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  We finished eating and went back out to the parking lot. I checked the back of the Wrangler. The box was still there.

  “Thanks again, Mary,” I said. “Let’s hope this plan works. We’re running out of options.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” she said, and waved goodbye as she drove out of the lot. Willey and I got into the Wrangler and drove south toward the park. We entered the park the same as we did when we came for my computer. We found
the plastic crates and used them to get over the fence again. Once again we stayed in the shadows and walked behind the houses, hidden from the street. This time we headed straight for the middle of the park. I carried the box of trinkets, as Willey called them, and he carried a straight bladed shovel we had bought on the way down.

  We stayed in the shadows until we came to 377 Second Avenue. Mary had told us it was an empty house, which made planting the artifacts easier. Willey used the straight shovel to cut out a square piece of sod. The depth of the square hole was about three inches—which was the depth of the grass roots. I had a garden tool that I used to stab into the ground at the bottom of the shallow hole. Then I inserted four different artifacts into the stabbed places at different depths and angles. I tamped the dirt down so it would be hard again. It couldn’t look like the earth had been disturbed. Willey replaced the square of sod and stepped on it to flatten it. It was impossible to see that the ground had been tampered with.

  Finally, I took an arrow head and inserted it into one of the seams in the sod so that only the tip of it protruded above the ground. Then we put a bottle cap down beside it so Mary could find it. We repeated the process a half-dozen times in the same area, with different pieces buried in the ground, and different markers. The rest were for the archeologists to find.

  “I guess that’s all for now,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.” We picked up the box and the tools, and walked through the shadows until we came to the fence and the plastic crates. We climbed over the fence, threw the crates into the underbrush, and pushed our way through the bushes to the Wrangler. Then we loaded our stuff into the back of the Wrangler and headed back to Tarpon Springs.