The Collectibles

by James J. Kaufman

  “I’m told this co-op has gone straight up. I couldn’t believe one similar to mine sold for 5.6 million.”

  “This is a Candela building, Mother; the real estate market in other parts of the country is not the same as the city. What do you say I take you to dinner?”

  “That would be lovely, my dear. I just happen to be available tonight. Where shall we go? Will Marcia meet us?”

  “Marcia is . . . tied up tonight. Just the two of us. You pick the place.”

  “Let me freshen up, and we’ll be on our way.”

  They walked arm-in-arm to Bravos, a neighborhood favorite, where they sat in a quiet booth enjoying Chardonnay and seafood. During coffee, Preston leaned forward. “There’s something I want to ask you, Mother – about Father.”

  “What about your father?” she asked, appearing to examine her cup.

  “This is unpleasant, but I really would like to know. What was the main reason you insisted that he leave?”

  June paused as if she were pondering the question. Finally, “I couldn’t trust him.”

  “Was that because he failed at business, or the women, or what?”

  “That was because your father was dishonest with me, with you, and with himself. The women were a part of it, although not as big a part as you might think. It was his lying about everything. The truth is he didn’t want to spend time with me. And, there was far too much tension where you were concerned. Nothing to do with you, my dear. I hated that he didn’t spend time with you, talk with you, do the things fathers do with their sons. Worse, I hated that he didn’t want to, but pretended that he did. And the money. He always needed money and would work me to get it. I finally had my fill of the whole mess.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need for that, my dear. I know how lonely you were as a child. I blame myself for that. You hated being forced to go to those private schools. I thought your father would visit you, do more, support you in sports. Instead he ignored you, and then compelled you to go on those wilderness trips. I never understood what all of that was about. Lord knows what demons drove him.”

  “What kinds of demons? Drinking? Drugs?”

  His mother’s eyes began to tear. “That’s all I want to say. I’ve tried all these years not to speak disparagingly about your father to anyone, especially you. I’m sure I’ve let you down.”

  “You haven’t let me down. Never have. I don’t know what’s caused me to go into this. Too much on my mind these days, I guess. Dad, business, Marcia. That’s what you get when you build an empire.”

  “What about Marcia? Is she pregnant? Is that what this is all about?”

  “No, Mother. I know how anxious you are, but Marcia is not pregnant. Ready to go? Let’s get out of here, and follow your doctor’s orders.”

  Chapter 21: Johnny

  Alice finished binding the last of the twenty-four books that she and the interns had compiled. Each book was neatly labeled on the front center denoting the dealership, a description of the text, and the type of material in the exhibits. It was now 7:30 p.m. and Alice realized she was hungry. She figured Buck, who had been keeping her company all day, was hungry as well.

  “How would you like to go to the Home Dairy for dinner, Buck? You can see your buddy Johnny, and I’m sure he’ll have some roast beef scraps for you.”

  Buck sat up, ears erect, and, looking at her with his deep black eyes, cocked his head to the right.

  “I thought so,” Alice said. “Give me a minute to check the office and lock up, and then we’ll go.”

  At the car, she opened the rear door of her Taurus long enough for Buck to hop in and they headed down to Braydon’s Home Dairy on South Main Street. Stanley Niemeyer, a 275-pound baker, had successfully run this homespun, one-floor, cafeteria-style restaurant and bakery for thirty-four years. Alice enjoyed the country food and, because Stanley was a client of Joe’s who loved dogs, and Buck in particular. Joe often stopped in for a meal in the kitchen, followed by a sample of Stanley’s latest bakery creation. Stanley said he knew dogs weren’t allowed in the restaurant, but he figured that didn’t apply to Buck.

  Joe had met Johnny through Buck, who’d developed a leftover-steak relationship with the Home Dairy’s Chief dishwasher. Mildly challenged, short and stocky, around thirty years old, Johnny had thin, gray hair, which he brushed across his balding head. He’d given Joe a lengthy dissertation on exactly how the food trays were placed on the cut-through windowsill by the customers at the end of their meals, how to bring the trays through the window, how to remove the dirty plates and guide the garbage down a stainless steel chute and into the disposal, using the spray device on the coiled hang-down washer.

  Stanley, trying to shield Joe, had told Johnny to stay away. Joe countermanded the order, motioning for Stanley to settle down. He invited Johnny to join them at the small wooden table at the front of the twenty-foot-long baking table that separated the room from the ovens.

  Joe liked Johnny and did not feel Stanley’s sense of embarrassment around him. Besides, through Ashley’s work, Joe knew about the community home for the mentally challenged where Johnny lived. Without the program, the state, struggling to find funds to care for these folks in homes, was increasingly leaving them on the streets to make their own way.

  Joe told Ashley about Johnny, knowing that would not be the end of it.

  On this evening, as Alice entered the Home Dairy, she could see that most of the dinner crowd had eaten and already left. As she came through the front door, she slowly passed by the five-foot enclosure in which, on four glass shelves, the cakes, pies, cookies, and other specialties were displayed. She could not resist at least a look, perusing peach cobbler, sweet potato pie, ambrosia, German chocolate cake, black velvet cake, and her favorite, key lime pie. She motioned to Buck, who proceeded down a hallway to the corner at the end of the dining area, sat down, and waited.

  Alice loved the mixture of smells and held that experience responsible for her filling her tray with far more food than she needed. She paid Ida, the pretty, middle-aged woman who usually attended the cash register and always wore a clean, neatly pressed uniform with an elaborate colored handkerchief rising from the right front pocket, and a warm smile to match. There she found Buck, patiently waiting in the corner.

  When she finished, Alice gathered her plates and utensils, placed them on the tray and carried it past Buck to an opening in the wall. Buck’s tail was wagging as Johnny came to the window.

  “Buck, how you doing?” Johnny asked. “Hello, Miss Alice, how you doing, too?”

  “I’m just fine, Johnny, thank you.”

  “Johnny got special for Buck. Okay? Okay, Johnny give Buck steak? Buck likes steak. He can smell it. Okay?”

  “Yes, Johnny, that would be nice. Thank you.”

  “Can Buck come back to kitchen? Mr. Stanley says okay. Joe told him it’s okay. Johnny feed Buck. Leave Buck with Johnny. Okay? That good?”

  “That’s fine, Johnny, but just for a little while,” Alice said, walking through the swinging door with Buck into the kitchen. Johnny had already found a nice piece of steak and a big bone, and had placed it on the floor, together with a stainless steel bowl of fresh water. Buck immediately began devouring the food.

  “Johnny, I’ll leave Buck with you, but just for an hour or so. I have to go down to Robins’ Drugstore,” Alice said.

  “Late now,” Johnny said. “Front door lock soon. Come in back door. Okay? Use back door, okay?”

  “I will, Johnny. I’ll come in the back.” Alice waved goodbye and said to Buck, “Take care of Johnny.”

  Stanley had left a half-hour earlier, having closed up the front and turned the lights out. As he’d left through the back door, Stanley had instructed Johnny, when finished with the dishes, to sweep the kitchen again and make sure everything was clean before he left. Johnny continued with the dishes, a
ll the time talking to Buck, who had gulped his dinner, drained the water bowl twice, and was now sitting at Johnny’s feet. Then Johnny took the large floor broom and began to sweep one side of the room to the other. Apart from his whistling, the kitchen was quiet.

  Johnny heard the back door open and called out, “Hi, Miss Alice, Johnny in here, Johnny sweeping.”

  A large man, his head covered by a navy blue knit cap pulled down over his huge ears, and wearing dirty dungarees and an old camouflage jacket over an olive green T-shirt, quietly stepped into the kitchen. Buck seemed to hear the man before Johnny did and sat quietly, watching him as he moved past the large baking ovens and around the long baking table.

  The man came up behind Johnny, who was whistling away and pushing the broom in the opposite direction. The man quickly threw his large right arm around Johnny’s neck, pulling him back and up off his feet. Buck growled and Johnny struggled to get free, pushing the man back and turning around to face him.

  “Kitchen closed,” Johnny shouted at the man. “Go away! You not allowed in the kitchen. Johnny’s kitchen. Leave Johnny’s kitchen!”

  “I’ll be glad to leave your kitchen, Johnny boy,” the man said in a menacing tone. “But first, why don’t you show me where the safe is?”

  “It’s safe,” Johnny said. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just leave.”

  “Don’t be a smartass,” the man said, still holding Johnny’s right arm. “I asked you nicely, Johnny. Where’s the safe? I don’t plan on asking you again.” He dragged Johnny along the table to the area where Stanley had a small desk and a computer. “It’s gotta be here, Johnny boy. Just show me where it is,” he said, applying more pressure to Johnny’s arm.

  “Johnny don’t know where anything of Mr. Stan’s is. Johnny don’t touch Mr. Stan’s things. Johnny want big man now to leave. Hurting Johnny’s arm. Not nice to do. Big man stop. You leave now.”

  “Okay, Johnny boy, you don’t wanna do this the easy way, we can do it the hard way.” At that point, they were under the lamp hanging down from the ceiling just over Stanley’s desk. The man pulled out what looked like a military knife with a camouflage handle and a large blade, which curved up slightly at the end. He spun Johnny around and held him with his large left arm around Johnny’s neck, his right arm and hand holding the knife high and to the right. He then started to bring his right hand down with the knife pointed at Johnny’s chest.

  “It would have been better for you to just cooperate with me, Johnny boy,” the man said as he brought the knife closer to Johnny’s throat.

  It looked as though the huge man never heard Buck leap onto the baking table, run down it, and jump in the air as his mouth closed around the man’s right arm, just below his wrist, crushing it. The big man screamed as the knife dropped to the floor. He released his hold on Johnny and fell forward with Buck on his back.

  Johnny, scared to death and speechless, ran while the man scrambled to his feet, his right arm drooping at his side, and lunged forward toward Buck. Buck sat motionless, ears fully erect, staring at the man as he came closer. Buck gave out one loud bark, a sound that Johnny had never heard before. The man stopped for a moment. Buck lunged at his chest and pushed him back against the wall. Buck was standing full on his hind legs with his front legs and paws pressed against the man’s chest and his mouth less than an inch from the man’s throat. When Buck made a low, growling sound through his teeth, the big man froze.

  Just then, Alice walked through the back door and called for Johnny.

  “Johnny in here, Miss Alice. It’s okay. Big man bad. Buck don’t like big man. Buck mad now. Buck talking to man now. Man not saying anything. It’s okay.”

  Alice could not understand, but knew something was wrong. She proceeded farther into the kitchen and then saw Buck with the large man against the wall. She was going to tell Buck to stop until she saw the blood on the floor and the knife.

  “Come over here, Johnny. Come outside,” she called. Johnny ran over to Alice and out the door. Alice called 911 on her cell phone. “We need help. Now. A man has broken into Stanley’s Home Dairy. Through the back. He attacked Johnny. Oh, I’m Alice, with attorney Joe Hart. The man’s still here. Come now.”

  Within four minutes, two policemen arrived. Alice told them to be careful and not to hurt Buck in any way, that he was Joe Hart’s dog and that he knew what he was doing. The two officers entered the back door with guns drawn. Buck was still holding the man against the wall. At that point, Alice said, “Buck, here.” Buck dropped down, walked to Alice’s side, and sat quietly while Alice hugged him.

  The police quickly took charge. Alice told Johnny to come with her and Buck, that she would drive him home. “Buck didn’t like bad man,” Johnny said. “Johnny Okay.”

  “Yes, you’re fine, Johnny. You’re right, Buck didn’t like that man. I don’t like him either. It’s time for you to go home now, Johnny, and get some sleep.” Alice’s heart was still pounding but she tried to sound calm, at least until she dropped him off at the home.

  Alice looked at Buck sitting quietly in the back seat. “Well, Buck, it looks like you did what I asked you to do. You took care of Johnny.” Buck leaned over the front seat and rested his head softly on Alice’s right shoulder as she headed home.

  When Joe returned home from Vegas and drove over to Alice’s house to pick up Buck, they met him at the front door.

  “Hi, Alice. How are you doing? Hi, Buck, how you doing, fellow?”

  “Everything’s fine. All the books are bound and ready to go. Alex Herman’s report is on your desk, and I brought a copy home in case you wanted to read it tonight.” She reached onto the table in the foyer by the front door.

  “Thanks, Alice. And thanks for taking care of Buck.”

  “You’re welcome. I saved a copy of the paper for you.” She handed him that as well. “Buck’s quite a hero. He made the front page. He protected your friend Johnny at the Home Dairy and kept Stanley from being robbed as well. I actually saw it. It was scary, Joe. Buck is such a sweetheart, and he’s so quiet. You forget how tough or strong he can be. I’m glad he’s on our side, although I don’t think the robber is. Anyway, you can read all about it in your spare time.”

  “Way to go, Buck!” Joe shouted, patting Buck on the head. “You’re a hero. Next the police will want you on the force.” Buck just quietly looked up at Joe, his tail wagging.

  “How did things go in Vegas?”

  “Fine,” Joe replied. “Tommy is over his crisis and I was able to check in with Missy as well. All good,” Joe said as he waved goodbye, heading to his car with Buck at his side.

  That night, Joe studied Alex Herman’s report, read about Buck, and went to bed early. Before falling asleep, he thought about Preston, Casey, and the meeting in the morning in Charlotte. He had arranged to see them for breakfast at a coffee shop near the Olympic Tower, where the meeting was to take place on the thirty-ninth floor in Bank North America’s conference room. He knew the importance of the pre-conference discussion with Preston and Casey. He also understood they did not.

  Chapter 22

  The three men sat at a table in the corner of the coffee shop. Joe listened to Preston’s questions as he finished his eggs, country ham, grits and coffee. Preston, apparently too nervous to eat, was only drinking coffee, while Casey worked his way through a stack of blueberry pancakes with fried eggs and syrup.

  “I’ve told you what to expect,” Joe said. “This is not going to be a pleasant meeting. I’m sure you’ll find the small army the bank will amass to be intimidating, or at least overbearing and annoying. But remember, they do have a dog in this fight.”

  “What’s that mean?” Casey asked, still chewing.

  “I mean they have a vested interest in getting their money back, and they have a right to be very upset with you both. They didn’t have to agree to meet with us in the first place. I’m glad they did, and
I view this as a major opportunity.”

  “This is not my first meeting with a bank that is owed money,” Preston said. “They’re going to kill us in there. We don’t have any defense. Let’s just get it over with.”

  “Don’t forget the ground rules,” Joe said. “We’re going to do this my way. You’ve already determined you have nothing to lose. You won’t get in trouble for what you don’t say. Therefore, I’d like each of you to say nothing. Other than ‘Good morning’ and that I’m handling this matter for you, zero. Also, there may come a time when I would like us to leave this meeting. If that should occur, I will get up to leave, and I would like both of you to immediately follow me. Avoid any body language or facial expressions during this meeting. If questions are put to you, refer them to me. If I do want you to answer, I’ll let you know, but I doubt that I will. There’s not much you can tell these folks factually that isn’t already before them in the books. Hard as it is, just sit there passively and quietly.”

  “I understand,” Preston said, finishing his second cup of coffee and clanking the cup on the counter. “I haven’t forgotten the ground rules. I’m with you, Joe.”

  “Me, too,” Casey said, ordering a jelly donut for dessert.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Joe said, once they finished eating. “I would appreciate it if you guys would help me with the carts to bring the books up to the meeting. My truck’s around the corner.”

  They arrived at 9:40 a.m. and were the first in the conference room. It was just as Joe had imagined: thick, rich, tan wall-to-wall carpet and a thirty-foot-long mahogany table with eighteen black leather chairs. At each end was a matching mahogany credenza with a selection of coffee, tea, orange juice and soft drinks, a silver tray full of cookies, and other pastries.

  A doorway opened at each end of the conference room, and the wall across from the entryway was glass, floor to ceiling. It was a clear, blue-skied, sunny morning, and the view of Charlotte from the thirty-ninth floor was imposing. The remaining walls were covered in light brown wallpaper, one with a large whiteboard and a tray of markers.