Stamped Out

by Thayer, Terri

  April relaxed. They weren’t talking about her. “I don’t remember you.”

  He pointed to his chest. “Picture me with a whistle around my neck and zinc oxide on my nose. Scrawnier.”

  “The lifeguard? Axl?” The Guns N’ Roses song “Sweet Child o’ Mine” filled her head. She and Deana had played that song over and over the summer they were twelve.

  Mitch groaned. “Oh, God, no. No one has called me that in years. You remember that?”

  “Remember that? How could I forget? You played Appetite for Destruction at the pool party. Heavy metal at the club. Deana and I thought you were the coolest.”

  “I’ve always considered myself more Slash than Axl.” Mitch planted his feet and started playing air guitar. April laughed. He looked so not cool.

  He said, “They fired me for that, but it was worth it.”

  The voices were returning to the dining room. April turned to the mural and pretended to be scrutinizing the paint.

  Mrs. H. turned the corner into the room. Vince and Ed were right behind her. The air in the room felt different, as though the molecules had changed. April felt pressure in her ears and she looked to her father. He had a quizzical expression on his face, but she couldn’t tell if he was more worried than he’d been.

  Suddenly, there was a concussive boom!

  April grabbed her father’s arm. Mitch stood in front of his aunt protectively. Vince and Ed exchanged a glance. Neither looked as surprised as April thought they should.

  CHAPTER 4

  “What the hell was that?” Mrs. H.’s voice lost its practiced refinement. The dishes in the china cabinet rocked, and the crystals on the chandeliers tinkled daintily. April thought Benjamin Franklin had winked at her.

  “Dad?” April said. She knew this wasn’t part of the plan. What happened to waiting for the code enforcement guy?

  Ed said, “It’s okay.” He grabbed his phone as though the answers would be found on it.

  Vince said, “Apparently, we are taking down the Castle today.”

  “Well, I’m glad of it, but I didn’t expect it to rattle my bones,” Mrs. H. said. Mitch put an arm around her. April thought, unkindly, that Mrs. H.’s bones probably rattled when she sneezed. There was no fat on them to cushion the blow.

  “Sounded like someone went a little overboard on the dynamite to me,” Mitch said. He looked to Vince and Ed. “We shouldn’t have been able to feel it all the way over here.”

  April tried to picture where the Castle was in relation to Mirabella. The last time she’d walked between the two, she’d been a teenager. Maybe a ten-minute walk.

  Like a fire alarm, the old-fashioned phone-jangle ring-tone of Ed’s cell phone rang out, setting April’s teeth on edge.

  Ed took his call, walking to the far corner of the room. He was whispering fiercely, his voice rising and falling. April knew that tone of voice. Ed was panicking. She followed him. Vince remained by Mrs. H., reassuring her that the noise was not that unexpected.

  He was whispering fiercely. “No, we don’t have the permits yet. I told you to hold off.”

  As he paced, Ed’s face reddened until it was the color of the satin drapes in the room, maroon. April thought of the high cholesterol number he’d reported after his last physical. She positioned herself next to a built-in corner cabinet filled with trinkets, pretending to inspect them for damage, keeping a covert eye on her father, trying to remember the signs of a heart attack.

  “Yost?” she heard him say.

  What was the local cop doing there? She moved closer.

  He clicked off his phone and went back to where Mitch, Mrs. H. and Vince stood.

  “That was my foreman,” Ed said. “The Castle is down. Just as you requested.”

  Mrs. H.’s protestations had been trailing off. As a final salvo, she said, “Did you have to blow us all to kingdom come? I think you knocked some fillings out of my head.”

  Vince said smoothly, “It would take more than a little explosion to upset a woman like you, Mrs. H. Let’s get back to work. Show me those lighting fixtures you’re interested in.”

  Mrs. H smiled and seemed mollified by Vince’s remarks.

  She returned to her large notebook, opening to a page on lighting fixtures, tapping with her red nails. Vince looked over her shoulder. It looked as if life was going to go on as usual.

  Except for Ed. He’d snapped his phone shut, but instead of returning to Vince’s side, he was moving quickly toward the kitchen. And the back door.

  “Ed,” Mrs. H. called. “I need you here. I have more to go over.” She looked to Vince for reinforcements.

  Vince looked at his partner and his eyes darkened. He smiled quickly at Mrs. H., the wrinkles next to his eyes not moving. “We’ll be right back,” he said.

  April asked, “Is there something wrong?”

  She got no answer from Vince. As he passed her, April could see a small vein throbbing in his jaw. He was seeing something in her father that disturbed him. Ed wasn’t telling Mrs. H. everything he’d heard on the phone call. Something was wrong.

  April ran after them, but by the time she’d cleared the back door, Vince and Ed were already in the truck. She could see her father’s tight face as they passed. He was in the passenger seat, arms thrown up as he railed at Vince. She couldn’t hear him, but he was not happy.

  The pickup reversed out of the drive, fishtailing as Vince accelerated toward the road, coffee-colored dirt spewing from the tires.

  “That explosion sounded too big,” Mitch said in her ear. She whirled, surprised to see him on the porch with her. Mrs. H. was tapping her way through the kitchen.

  April felt her voice constrict. “Do you think someone got hurt?”

  “Hard to say. Demolition can be tricky,” Mitch said.

  April twisted her fingers together. Her father had looked so upset. She needed to know what had gone wrong.

  “I’ve got to get to the Castle. Where is it from here?” she asked Mitch.

  “Come on, I know a shortcut,” Mitch said, passing April, fingering his keys. “They have to go all the way around on the main road.”

  “Don’t everyone go off and leave me,” Mrs. H. whined through the back door.

  Mitch called to her, “No need for all of us to go, Aunt Barbara. We’ll report to you in a few minutes.”

  Mitch threw himself into his small green Jeep, which was open on the sides and top. April climbed in the passenger seat. She’d only just clanged the door shut when Mitch started up the engine, his arm slung over his seat, looking backward. Concentration furrowed his brow, but one dimple showed on his right cheek.

  The Jeep followed the dirt road leading out the back of the Mirabella property, into the woods. April’s butt left the seat, and she scrambled for the shoulder harness and plugged it in.

  “Hang on,” Mitch said.

  “Duh,” April said, unable to let his demand pass. She looked at him. Had he hit that pothole on purpose? He had a slight grin on his face, making the dimple dig deeper in his cheek. She stifled a laugh, feeling silly and scared at the same time. Scared like she was on a roller-coaster ride, but frightened when she thought of Ed’s red face.

  The dirt road ran on the outskirts of the woods, paralleling the tree line. After a hundred yards or so, Mitch yanked the Jeep to the right, between several towering pine trees. April grabbed the roll bar with one hand and the door handle with the other.

  They were deep in the woods now. The canopy of trees met overhead. The sun’s rays didn’t penetrate the tree cover, and she could barely see where they were going.

  Birds flew out of the trees in great bursts, like ashes out of the fireplace. Squirrels hurried up tree trunks. April had the impression all the woodland creatures knew Mitch well enough to get out of his way.

  She tried to picture where the Castle had been situated. She knew it was close to the main road out of town, the same road that she’d traveled to get to Mirabella. Thick woods hid it from view.


  The Jeep burst through the trees into a small clearing, before Vince and Ed arrived, as promised. Mitch pulled the emergency brake and the car jerked to a stop. All heads turned toward them.

  There were four men standing in dust, surveying a pile of rubble. Henry Yost, the local policeman, was easy to spot. He held a rifle in his left hand, low on his leg. He was wearing calf-high black boots, a light gray uniform and a Smokey-the-Bear hat. His badge was bright and shiny and a dead giveaway that he was local and not a state trooper.

  Two older men, too old to be workers, stood at Yost’s side. They were chattering excitedly to each other. One was completely bald. His face was red with excitement. The other had crew-cut gray hair and was sporting a Members Only jacket over his khakis.

  Yost was ignoring them, instead watching a tall man in a yellow hard hat and steel-toed construction boots. He stood with his feet planted wide apart, hands on his hips. His T-shirt read “Retro Reproductions.” This had to be Lyle. His long face was unlined. He looked completely at ease.

  April got out of the Jeep and walked toward the rubble. Mitch joined her, whistling. “Wow. He did quite a number on the place.”

  Most of the house had fallen in on itself. The chimney stack was exposed. A raw red pipe stuck out of the ground like a graveyard marker. Pieces of wallboard had been tossed into the trees overhead. The smell of cordite lingered in the air. Smoke hovered.

  The rock fireplace in the front of the house was still intact. April could see a panel of a heavy oak door and mangled window frames. Glass glittered in the dirt. A few steps to her right, and April was looking at a cross section of the building. It reminded her of her favorite Richard Scarry books. How Do Things Work in Busytown was the best. She’d learned enough about construction from his books to keep her intrigued by her father’s work.

  Lyle had a phone to his ear, and he nodded as they approached. Mitch lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

  “What are you doing here, Mitch?” Yost said. “Coming to see what’s left of your legacy?”

  April flinched at the officer’s tone, but Mitch just smiled. “It’s not every family that has its own ruins,” Mitch said cheerfully.

  Yost was wearing sunglasses, practicing his dead stare. April felt the controlled excitement coming off him, a man who had nothing to police most days of the week but unlicensed dogs.

  He looked her over, found her uninteresting and turned back to Mitch.

  “Most ruins happen over centuries,” Yost said. “Your father managed to run down this place in less than twenty years.”

  Mitch’s eyes darkened, and his tone grew harsh. “Don’t pretend you didn’t have a role in that,” he said to Yost. He moved away, out of Yost’s sight line. April followed him, feeling his cop gaze on her.

  The gray-haired man caught Mitch’s arm. “Too bad your father wasn’t here to witness this. I don’t know if it would break his heart or cheer him up,” the man said.

  “The latter, Mo,” Mitch said, his forehead furrowed despite his light words. He shook Mo’s hand and the hand of the bald man. “You two sidewalk supervising? Doing your part to help out?”

  Mo chuckled, his face a wide expanse of wrinkles and grooves. “You know these jobs go smoother when we’re here. We watch that these whippersnappers do their job right.”

  “Not so sure that worked today,” Mitch replied, then turning to April, said, “These old fellas have got nothing better to do than hang around watching other people work.”

  He introduced her to them. “This is April Buchert, Ed’s daughter.”

  The description didn’t bother Mo or his friend at all. They watched Yost and Lyle with interest. Yost took a phone call.

  The bald man’s arms were tattooed with purple age marks. His head bobbed as though the connection between it and his spine was tenuous. He held a hand out to April. “I’m Curly. Your father calls us the Three Stooges.”

  April looked for a third man. The old man’s face fell when he saw her questioning expression. “Guess we’re not that anymore,” he said quietly. Mo touched his arm.

  Mitch said, “Where is George?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Mo said. “He died last night, man.”

  Mitch’s face fell. “God damn.”

  “I know what you mean,” Curly said, his voice cracking with emotion. April felt her own throat thicken as the old man’s eyes filled with tears. He patted Mitch several times on the shoulder, unable to stop.

  Mo became animated. “You won’t believe this, Mitch. Yost dragged us here this morning, trying to pin George’s death on the Castle. He’s got some lamebrain idea that George fell down yesterday when the three of us were out here and hit his head, and then died in his bed.”

  “But if he died in his bed . . . Yost brought you two out here, for what exactly?” Mitch asked. His forehead wrinkled with concern.

  Curly said, “He doesn’t think George died of old age in his bed. He’s trying to pin it on us being here at the job site. He’d like nothing more than to keep us away from the jobs. Says we’re a nuisance.”

  “He wanted to see if we could handle the terrain. You know how hard it is to get to the Castle from the road. He parked up there,” Mo said, pointing up and behind them.

  April looked. She could barely see the blacktop from here through the brush. The slope was steep, unlike the road through the woods. From their vantage point, the berm of the road had to be at least ten feet over their heads. April searched for her father’s pickup but could see nothing. She heard a car go by without stopping.

  Mo was still complaining about Yost. “He had us climb down here. We told him George was in better shape than both of us, but Yost wouldn’t listen. We didn’t know the place was getting blown up today.”

  “You should’ve seen Yostie when he saw Lyle setting his charges.” Curly chuckled. Yost was disliked by young and old, evidently.

  “What did Trocadero use?” Mitch asked. He watched Yost and Lyle conversing.

  “Dynamite,” Mo said.

  Mitch whistled. “That’s what I thought it was. No one uses that anymore.” He looked worriedly at April. “This could really be a mess if Retro Reproductions didn’t have the proper permits,” he said.

  Curly shrugged. “Lyle’s old school. He learned demolition at the quarry his dad worked at. He goes with what’s familiar.”

  A sharp voice broke through their conversation. “Damn it all to hell, Lyle! What happened?” Ed yelled.

  Vince and Ed were climbing down the steep embankment. Vince was ahead of Ed, who was hanging on to tree roots to steady himself. Ed’s face was mottled red, and his chest was heaving. April felt her own diaphragm tighten and pressed on it.

  “Great,” Ed muttered as he passed her. “Deputy Dawg is already here.”

  Vince and Ed skirted April, Mitch and the two old men. Vince nodded at her. Her father made a beeline to Lyle.

  Lyle met him at the corner of the clearing, moving aside a piece of insulation with his toe. Yost was right behind him, still talking on his phone. “You told me to go ahead,” Lyle said.

  Ed said, saliva spraying, “I did no such thing. I told you to wait.”

  Lyle waggled his hand, middle fingers bent in as though he were talking on the phone. “You called back. I heard you and Mrs. H. She wanted the building down.” He pitched his voice up. “ ‘Immediately,’ she said.”

  April grinned. His imitation of her upper-crust accent was spot on.

  Vince took Ed’s phone out of his hands. He read the screen and pointed out something to Ed. Ed’s eyes rolled.

  Vince said, “You must have hit the redial when we were talking to her. Look, there are two calls to Lyle’s number. One at eight fifty and then one a half hour later.”

  “I hate this damn phone,” Ed said, jamming it onto his belt holster.

  “Damn,” Vince said, looking at the scene. “We had a lot of salvage possibility in there.”

  Mitch whispered to April, “There was a lot of good wood
in the Castle. Cherry beams and oak doors. Copper pipe. All worth money.”

  Ed looked at April as though he’d forgotten she was around. He gave a light frown and a shake of the head, indicating she should disappear, fast. He couldn’t afford to focus on her. She smiled, trying to let him know she was there to help.

  Vince stepped forward, shaking Yost’s hand after he’d hung up and stashed the phone on his belt. “Don’t think you’re going to need that,” he said, pointing at the rifle.

  Yost tightened his grip and ignored Vince’s comment. He looked at Ed. “Eddy, Eddy, what have you done? I’m always cleaning up after you, it seems.”