The Buried Book

by D. M. Pulley

  “He’s right,” Wayne piped in. “Pop says she didn’t come back home until you were born.”

  “Then why didn’t she tell me any of this? How could she let this happen? How could she work for Galatas?”

  “Try to understand. Althea had no family of her own. Always she was looking. For a father. For a home. She was a lonely shadow, living in between, which made her very useful to bad men. Galatas was very kind to her. He coiled around her like a snake.”

  Jasper bit his lip at this, not sure he wanted to know more.

  “He pulled her off the streets and promised her a real life. She could speak our language. She knew the elders. He used her to build his business here, gambling and smuggling. He said he would help us. After the profits from our stills dried up, our people were starving. It was supposed to bring us food.” Motega motioned to the graves. “This is what it brought in the end.”

  Jasper hung his head in shame. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Do not blame yourself, Jasper. My father made this treaty with Galatas, not you, not your mother. We put his boot on our own necks when we took his money. We invited these bad spirits.” Motega bowed his head and whispered something in his own language.

  “But I didn’t invite any of this! I just . . .” But a nagging voice in his head reminded him he had gone looking for her. In the silence that fell on the grave between them, he could hear her crying. He could feel the heat of his grandmother’s house burning to the ground. He could see her in the lamplight smiling at him. And then—

  Hot breath laughed in his ear. Sorry, little champ. You’re not invited to this party. Jasper flinched.

  “Hey, Jas? You alright?” Wayne nudged him.

  Jasper whispered, “It was me. I killed her.”

  “No,” Motega’s voice boomed. “You did not kill anyone. I promise you.”

  “But the lamp . . . ,” Jasper breathed. “I started the fire.”

  “It was an accident, Jas,” Wayne protested. “Nobody blames you. You’re just a kid.”

  Jasper shook his head. “It was me. I can’t remember, but I know it was me.”

  “No. You saved her life . . . I am forever in your debt, ningozis.”

  Jasper gazed up at Motega, and the pain written over his face. He could see the man had loved her once and maybe still did. “Then tell me where she is.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Why would federal officers protect a known crime syndicate?

  Jasper stared blankly at his plate all through dinner. No one sitting around the campfire seemed to notice. They were too busy balancing their own plates across their laps. They’d had no luck finding the kitchen table.

  “Wendell, you look like you could use a beer,” Uncle Leo announced from the other side of the fire. “Let’s you and me go down and visit the tavern. Whatdya say?”

  “I suppose buyin’ a round is the least I could do.” Wendell flashed a tired smile at Jasper and tousled his hair. “Thanks for lookin’ after him, Leo. I don’t know what I would’ve done . . .”

  Jasper attempted to smile back but couldn’t. He’d been hollowed out. Photographs of his dead sister scattered across his mind. He wished he’d never met Motega or seen the grave or found his mother’s diary. Dr. Whitebird was right—he should have stayed up in his tree.

  Wendell was still talking. “I’ll call in and cancel work tomorrow. We need to get a start on that cabin.”

  The two men cleared their plates in short order and headed up the driveway.

  An hour later, Jasper and Wayne piled up blankets and towels on the floor of their cow stall by candlelight. Neither of the boys spoke of what they’d seen or heard. Aunt Velma opened the stall door and kissed them both good night.

  When she’d retired to her end of the barn, Wayne sat up and whispered, “What the heck did Motega mean when he said, ‘Look inside yourself and you will find her?’ What kind of answer was that?”

  Jasper didn’t say anything. He just stared up at the patchwork roof hanging over them, replaying everything the man had told him. She gave me the necklace and asked me to bury it with Ayasha. She said she did not deserve it anymore. I’m sorry I cannot tell you where she went. Do not lose hope, my friend. There is a bond between you. You must look inside yourself, and you will find her.

  What if I can’t? he’d asked on the verge of tears.

  Then you are not ready.

  Wayne eventually gave up on the conversation and rolled over. Jasper could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t asleep, but his cousin let him be just the same. The shock of discovering a bastard cousin was enough scandal for Wayne to chew on for years. Jasper had sworn him to secrecy, but he could almost hear the wheels turning in the older boy’s head.

  The full moon shone in through a hole in the roof as he turned the words over and over in his mind. Look inside yourself. More riddles. Motega seemed to be saying he already knew the answer. Jasper racked his brain over and over, going through every clue and conversation he’d overheard.

  But there was so much he didn’t remember.

  Jasper squeezed his eyes shut and tried. He tried to put himself back in his grandmother’s house the night it burned down. His mother’s face in the lamplight. The smell of the smoke. The black boots. Hands gripping his shoulders. The sound of her screaming while—

  Jasper bolted upright, his heart racing.

  Next to him, Wayne had started to snore. The barn was quiet except for the sounds of the cows chewing. And breathing. He could feel hot breath in his ear, a gruff laugh. He slapped it away with his hand, and his eyes circled the barn, searching for anything to block it out.

  The children’s Bible leaned against the wall next to him. Someone had found it in the yard and wiped away the mud, leaving a shadowy brown stain smeared across the smiling face of Baby Jesus. Aunt Velma, he figured. Count your blessings, boys.

  But he didn’t feel blessed. He felt haunted, and he couldn’t bear to sit there in the dark with his thoughts. He wanted to hold her diary again, to hold her, but Uncle Leo had snatched it away. If you want answers, go read your Bible.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Jasper picked up the heavy book and slipped out of the stall. No one but the cows stirred as he crept to the open end of the barn. In the puddle of moonlight, muddy Baby Jesus beamed up at him.

  He sat down and opened the cover, hoping against hope that he’d find something inside. A clue. A prayer. Anything. The pages were curled from sitting in the mud, but Aunt Velma’s soup pot must’ve kept out the worst of the rain.

  He turned to the first page and found a listing of chapters:

  Chapter 1: In the Beginning . . .

  Chapter 2: God’s Garden

  He scanned down the listings, searching for anything that might guide him to the right page. Maybe she’d given him the damn book for a reason, not just to taunt him with her jokes. Everybody’s a sinner, Jasper.

  There was no mention of mothers except the Virgin Mary. He turned the page and kept looking.

  Chapter 22: Opening the Door of Faith

  Jasper’s eyes stopped at the words Door of Faith and read them again. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He held his breath and began searching for the page where he hoped to find some piece of her. Kings and beggars and a choir of fat baby angels flew past as he flipped through sheet after sheet, looking for chapter 22.

  Something that didn’t belong flashed between the cherubs.

  Jasper’s hand halted mid-search, then backtracked one page at a time. After turning back ten, he was certain he’d imagined it, but he kept flipping through anyway until there it was. A strange piece of paper pasted over the commandments. It was a list of names and phone numbers.

  “What the heck is that?” Wayne whispered from over his shoulder.

  Jasper startled at the voice and slapped the book closed on his cousin’s pointing finger.

  “Take it easy.” Wayne pushed it back open. “Look! The creamery’s on here. So is Big Bill and his roller rink, see? W
ho is Perry Gal-a-toes?”

  Jasper didn’t answer. He read over the list of names and businesses. The roller rink, the dairy where his mother worked, even the diner where he’d eaten with Not Lucy were on the list. He scowled up at the moon. It wasn’t an explanation, but it was something.

  “Are there more?” Wayne took the book from his cousin and flipped through it.

  Jasper barely noticed. All he could hear was the detective’s voice. She had something for me. Something very important. Do you know what I’m talking about?

  “There’s a bunch of ’em.” Wayne showed him another page.

  It was a ledger sheet filled with dollar amounts and dates and names. Jasper snatched the book back from Wayne and found another sheet pasted in and then another.

  “What is all this?”

  Jasper just shook his head. One name kept showing up over and over again next to the smaller dollar amounts, C. A. Duncan.

  Page after page, there was nothing but more figures. No instructions. No explanation. Nothing. Jasper flipped faster, growing more and more desperate. I need more, Mom. What am I supposed to do with all this? Tell me!

  He reached the last page, ready to throw the book against the wall, but the sight of her handwriting stopped him. On the back cover, written in her scrawling pen were the words:

  John Russo – Woodward 16221

  Federal Investigation #58-MI-0906

  “Is that the detective that came here?” Wayne asked too loudly.

  “What on earth are you two doing over there?” Aunt Velma demanded from the other side of the barn. “Get back to bed.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they answered in unison.

  Jasper closed the book, and both boys scrambled back to their stall. After a solid five minutes of silence, Wayne crawled over to Jasper’s ear and whispered, “What are you going to do?”

  Jasper didn’t answer. He just stood up and grabbed his overalls.

  “Where are you going?” Wayne hissed.

  “I have to tell him.”

  “Tell who?” Wayne jumped up and swiped the book from his hands.

  “My dad. I have to tell him.” Jasper made a move to grab the book back from his cousin.

  Wayne lifted the Bible high over his head where the smaller boy couldn’t reach. “Tell him tomorrow, dummy. It can wait.”

  “No, it can’t. She gave this to me. I have to help her!” Jasper kicked his cousin in the shin hard.

  The book dropped to the dirt with a thunk.

  “Now look what you did,” Wayne muttered.

  Aunt Velma came storming across the barn and threw back the stall door with a lantern in her hand. “What in God’s green earth are you two monkeys arguing about at this hour? After all we’ve been through, can’t we get some rest?” Her bare toe slammed into the book lying on the ground. “Ouch! Dammit!”

  The boys jumped back as she stumbled forward. She snatched up the Bible and brandished it at them. “Sweet Lord! This is what you two are fighting over?”

  Jasper panicked. “I’m sorry, Aunt Velma. Wayne wanted to borrow it, and I guess I just . . .”

  She squinted at the cover in the yellow glow of the lantern. She shot Wayne a sideways glance, then turned her blazing eyes on Jasper in his overalls. “Why are you dressed? Going somewhere?”

  “Uh. No.” Jasper backed himself into the corner. “I was just . . .”

  “You were just lyin’ to me is what you were doin’. Why don’t you try again? What is goin’ on?” She tucked the book under her arm as a hostage. “Somebody better start talkin’.”

  “Jasper found somethin’ in that book,” Wayne blurted.

  Jasper whacked him in the arm.

  “What?” Wayne gave him a shove in return. “You did, didn’t you?”

  Aunt Velma frowned at her nephew. “What’d you find, honey?”

  “I—I’m not sure.” Jasper swallowed tears of frustration.

  She gave him a hard look, then sat down and opened the cover. Jasper punched Wayne in the arm with all his might.

  “Hey,” he hissed back and showed the younger boy his fist. “She’s family, ain’t she? If you can’t trust us, who can you trust, huh?”

  “Jasper, honey? Do you recognize this handwriting?” Aunt Velma motioned him to her side.

  He knew he was trapped now. “Uh . . . yes. It looks like my mother’s. Some of it does anyway.”

  “These are accounting records for the dairy where she works, see the letterhead?” Aunt Velma pointed to the top of one of the ledger sheets. “Any idea why she’d put them in here?”

  Jasper dropped his eyes to the dirt and told the truth. “No.”

  Aunt Velma picked his face up by the quivering chin. “You know I am gonna have to talk to your father about this.”

  “Talk to me about what?” Wendell asked from the other end of the barn. He walked over to the stall with Uncle Leo. His cheeks were rosy with alcohol. “Whatcha all doin’ out of bed, Son?”

  Jasper didn’t answer.

  “The boys were just showing me something they found.” Aunt Velma stood up and motioned the men over to the book. “I think you’re gonna want to see this, Wendell.”

  In the dull light of the lantern, Aunt Velma revealed his mother’s secret. Jasper tried to breathe. This was what he’d wanted his father to see, but he couldn’t shake the bad feeling in his gut as Wendell and Leo leafed through each piece of Galatas’s accounting.

  Uncle Leo let out a low whistle at the last page. “Federal investigation. Jeez, Althea. And there’s that fellow Russo. What do you make of it, Wen?”

  Wendell slammed the book shut and glanced from Jasper to Aunt Velma. “We should discuss this outside, Leo.”

  He handed the book to Velma, and the two men headed out the open end of the barn, with Jasper trailing behind them.

  “Get back to bed, Son. Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t you worry.” His father led him back to his bed and closed the stall door in Jasper’s face.

  He watched the men walk out to the tractor shed with his nose pressed between the slats.

  Aunt Velma took his hand and pulled him away from the wall. She gave the boy a worried smile, and then her eyes dropped down to the Bible in her hands. After a moment’s reflection, she set the book back down next to Jasper’s pillow and said, “Well, boys. I’m dead tired . . . I’m going to turn in now, and I’m stuffin’ cotton in my ears so you fools don’t keep me up. Good night.”

  Jasper stood rooted to the spot, watching her walk back to her end of the barn.

  Wayne gave him a gentle shove to the door. “Go, dummy! She’s letting you go, so git. Before she changes her mind.”

  With that, Jasper slipped on his boots and was out of the barn running. He sprinted a wide circle around to the back side of the tractor shed where the men’s voices leaked out into the night.

  “He’s a detective, Wendell. What do you want him to do?”

  “I want him to leave my family alone, dammit! I told that son of a bitch to back off. I don’t give a rat’s ass about his investigation. It’s none of our business. I lost my wife because of that bastard. Askin’ her to take on a gangster like Galatas, pestering her at work. Back in Detroit, some poor family is still missin’ their father tonight. They never did find a trace of that police sergeant except the blood in my damned bedroom. I’m not lettin’ my family end up like that. We’re not gonna call him about nothin’.”

  “What about that book? Looks like Althea went to quite a lot of trouble to hide them pages. There had to be a good reason. What should we do with it?”

  “We ain’t gonna do nothin’ with it. I’m throwin’ it in the fire. Althea never should’ve gone messin’ with this stuff. Damn woman don’t know what’s good for her. If she’d have just taken care of Jasper and kept her nose out of it, none of this would’ve . . .”

  Jasper didn’t hear the rest. His feet took off running for the barn before his head could catch up.

  CHAPTER 57

>   Charles Duncan was a respected US marshal. Is there any evidence to support these claims?

  Jasper raced into the cow stall and snatched the Bible off the ground.

  Wayne sat up in his bed. “What are you doing?”

  He just shook his head and ran back out before his cousin could stop him. He dashed up the driveway out onto Harris Road, clutching the book to his chest, eyes darting behind him. His father’s truck would be starting up after him the minute the man realized what his son had done. The long ditch on the other side of Harris was littered with fallen branches that scraped at his arms as he climbed down from the road into its shadow.

  He stopped to catch his breath. Oh God, what am I doing? His father and uncle would kill him, but he couldn’t let them burn it. His foot sank down into the mud as he searched his head for options. There was no place on the farm to hide it. He supposed he could bury it, if he could find a dry spot.

  “Jasper!” a voice hissed out on the road above him. “Where are you, dummy?”

  Jasper debated whether or not to answer but finally decided he needed the help. “Down here.”

  Wayne climbed down into the ditch and found him there under the branches. “What the heck are you doin’ out here? Pop and Uncle Wen are gonna be comin’ in from the shed any second.”

  “I can’t let him burn it, Wayne. He knows the truth, but he doesn’t care.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “He doesn’t care if they ever get Galatas. You heard Motega. They kill people. They killed Ayasha. They’re plannin’ something terrible. They’re gonna shoot a bunch of Indians, and no one’s gonna stop them!”

  Wayne didn’t speak for a moment, until he said, “That’s probably why he wants to burn it, dummy. He don’t want anyone killin’ you. Ever think of that?”

  “But somebody has to stop them. That’s why she left me. That’s what she was trying to do. She was trying to do something right.”