That afternoon it rained like it hadn’t rained in a long time. Pablo sloshed through the mud to the stable to feed the three horses their lunch. He passed a soaked detective in a raincoat that looked none-too-pleased to be on horsesitting duty. The two men exchanged nods and went about their business. Around five o’clock, Edward took off in his Packard convertible near the woods. Karen stood in the doorway of the guest house and watched him leave. She spotted Pablo on the front porch of the house and gave him a wave.
Plimpton was in the library listening to the rain and counting the minutes until the sun set. The certified check was sealed in an envelope and placed in a plastic bag to keep it dry. He was to put it in the stable at seven that evening and wait until morning to check on the horse. Any funny stuff and the horse wouldn’t make it. He was assured the detective staked on the stable was the best on the force. During a slight break in the rain, he took the check to it’s place. It was about six-thirty.
Pablo cooked Plimpton’s favorite beef stew for dinner. It was rare that the old man ate any of his meals outside of the library, but tonight he sat at the mahogany table in the dining room. He sat in silence and watched the barn between streaks of rain that chased down the window. A small light showed the wet ground underneath the stable door. The detective on duty stood just outside the spotlight near a bush in the darkness.
The minutes ticked by like hours until it was almost ten o’clock. Pablo watched from the kitchen as Plimpton’s head nodded up and down in a battle against sleep. When he heard the sound of snores, he crept onto the porch with a flashlight. The sound of rain assaulting the roof above was all he heard as he flashed the light on and off three times. A moment later, the light above the stable door cracked and popped and sunk the area into pure black darkness. A muffled groan broke through mother nature’s handiwork. There was a slight splash and nothing else.
Around eleven, Pablo carried a cup of coffee, purposely making a clatter on his way into the dining room. Plimpton shot up from his slumber and wiped some dampness from the side of his mouth.
“Oh, Mr. Plimpton,” he said, “I didn’t realize you were asleep. I brought you some coffee.”
Plimpton didn’t hear a word the butler said. He struggled to focus his waking eyes on the stable, which was now invisible from the window in the dining room.
“The light,” he yelled. “My horse.”
Plimpton rose to his feet like a man twenty years his junior. He shot through the door and darted over puddles and threw open the wooden plank that locked the large red barn. His sigh echoed through the wood building when his flashlight beam found the brown, muscular body of Bound by Desire, safe and sound. He stayed in the barn for several minutes before emerging once again in the rain. He jumped and hopped and danced across the puddles like a kid heading home from school.
Three towels waited for him in the foyer. Each worked wonders on drying his thinning skin. As he dabbed his arms and neck with the warm cloth, he talked aloud to no one particular.
“Who would do such a thing?” he said. “The world is going to hell.”
Pablo stood in the foyer with the same cup of coffee and two more towels.
“Were three enough?” Pablo asked. “I assumed you’d like a drink.”
“You know what happens when you assume?” the man snarled.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Plimpton,” Pablo said. “I’m sorry.”
Plimpton dropped the towels on the marbled floor and headed for his library. Pablo followed behind and scooped the damp rags up in one motion.
“Oh,” Plimpton added as he marched up the stairs without looking back. “Call Murray. Tell him the detective he sent is laid out in a puddle by the barn. They need to come claim him before he drowns. I won’t have any death on my property.”
“Yes, Mr. Plimpton.”
Before entering the library, he stopped and looked down at the butler at the foot of the staircase. For a moment, Pablo swore he saw a smile on the man’s face.
“And open a bottle of champagne,” he said. “I have to make a call, but afterwards, we celebrate. My baby is back.”
“Yes, Mr. Plimpton,” Pablo responded with a grin as wide as a windshield. “That’s wonderful news, Mr. Plimpton.”
The bottle of champagne didn’t last long as the four revelers celebrated the return of Plimpton’s prized pony. The old man was in rare form, cracking jokes that sounded like the last three days never happened. As the grandfather clock in the foyer struck three o’clock, the mood in the room slowed to a crawl. Karen and Edward sat quietly at the table, while Pablo cleaned the mess around the dining room. The old man’s head bowed in defeat to the Sandman. Snores came shortly after.
Pablo finished his duties before excusing himself to his room. He still had to pack and needed to be ready to leave quickly once the check was cashed when the bank opened. Karen and Edward, already packed and prepared, waited until Pablo was at the stable to make their way out of the home.
Sleeping in the stable for the last two nights was uncomfortable and humiliating to Pablo, but he took solace in the fact that this would be his last night there. By this time tomorrow, he’d be headed back to Mexico with three grand in his pocket. Surely his wife would return to him with that kind of money.
As he threw off the lock to the barn, he was startled by the movement of the horses inside. The old man wasn’t the only one having a welcome home party, he thought to himself. Pablo dropped his suitcase on the hay near Bound by Desire. It fell with a thud and stirred a piece of paper that sat near the butler’s makeshift bed. He picked it up and read it by candlelight in the dark room. The thick blue ink soaked through the paper showing excellent penmanship on both sides.
It read:
Dear Pablo,
I hope you don’t hold my actions against me over the last few days. It’s been a very trying time and I’ve been under an incredible amount of stress. With the return of my horse, I hope everything can go back to normal.
Pablo stopped for a moment and wiped some moisture from the corner of his eye. He sighed and carried on.
But getting back to normal means coming clean. Putting everything on the table so that the new start can be a fresh one.
You’re an ungrateful son of a bitch. I gave you a second chance at life and how do you repay me? You steal my horse and my money. Did you honestly think I’d not know? You pose as an illiterate, but had no problem signing for the check when the delivery man came today… in the same idiot handwriting that the notes were written in.
Mexico is beautiful this time of year. I hope your wife is enjoying her new life. As for you, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Let me know what you think of him.
Plimpton
Pablo clenched the note in his hand and tossed it near the candle, where it popped and exploded into a small flame atop a metal table. The flames from the candle danced along the wall and wrapped around a dark figure that grew larger by the second. Pablo couldn’t make out its features, but smelled the odor of sweat and dirt in the air.
“Who’s there?” he demanded to no response. “I said who’s there?”
The candle light peeled back to reveal a large round face as pale as a full fishbowl and smiling like the devil himself. Sharp teeth carved out jagged shadows in an open mouth. A diamond big enough to hit off a tee was plugged in his left earlobe. Something shiny flickered in his small hand. Pablo gasped and the gun exploded. The butler landed with a thud in the hay next to Bound by Desire.
Near the guest house, the explosion made Karen nearly jump from her shoes. She grabbed Edward by his bandaged arm and caused a yelp from the man.
“What was that?” she begged.
“Who knows?” Edward said with a slightly drunk drawl. “Probably the old man lighting off some firecrackers to celebrate his precious horse returning home.” He unlocked the door and tugged the woman in with him by the shirt sleeve, kissing her neck in the process. Her giggle smelled of alcohol.
Karen flipped a switc
h that brought the room alive with electricity. Edward stood near the bed, holding a piece of paper that wasn’t there when they left. His eyes moved like a typewriter as he scanned each line. After he finished reading, he dropped the note at his feet. It fluttered to the carpet, where Karen was able to see the final handwritten line - I didn’t take it from your mother and I surely won’t take it from you.
Edward’s eyes were hollow and his jaw sagged. She pleaded with him to talk, but he wouldn’t. His gaze was set over her left shoulder, where a large man with a gun stood in an opened closet.
In the dining room, Plimpton finished his glass of champagne and watched the final drops of rain run down the window. It was still dark outside, but not for long. He waited until he heard two large booms come from the direction of the guest house. The windows went dark. He smiled and brought his empty glass to the sink in the kitchen. Then he went to bed.
Warm Hands, Cold Heart Page 7