The Hard Way

by TJ Vargo

  Cracker asked Derek what Curtis’s dad looked like. Then he picked up the legal pad, asking for the address of Angel’s garage. He hung up, brushing a drop of blood off the legal pad. He touched his nose, feeling a lance of pain. It was probably broken. But a broken nose was nothing. He drove out of the hospital parking lot, glancing down at the address for Angel’s garage.

  A broken nose to kill someone was a good trade.

  He made one stop at a liquor store on his way over to Angel’s garage. There was no telling what kind of drunk Curtis’s dad was, but Cracker was feeling generous. A bottle of rotgut vodka and some radiator whiskey would give Mickey Monroe a chance to pick his poison. Or maybe he’d be able to sample both, right down to the last drop. This could be fun for the old drunk.

  Cracker parked against the curb outside Angel’s garage and got himself a protein bar.

  He ate, watched and waited, tapping a fingernail against the whiskey bottle, then the vodka bottle. Back and forth. Back and forth. He chewed on a lump of protein bar.

  Mickey Monroe had no idea of the good time he was about to have.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  It was a little past noon. They were right on schedule. The car climbed a rise, heading straight into the sun. Curtis shaded his eyes as he looked out the window. They’d been driving for fifteen minutes. Ten more and they’d be at Malabar Farm. The landscape was beautiful this far out of Tombs, and he enjoyed the view. The ground rolled away from the road on both sides, thickly wooded in some spots, fenced-off and well-manicured in others. Farming wasn’t big because of the uneven terrain, but there were a few crop fields after they passed the closed ski resort. Then the road dipped in and around steep rises. They came out of a curve and shot into a straight-away blazing with sunlight.

  Curtis looked at his dad’s hands. They were trembling. But he drove straight and steady. His dad glanced over. He was smiling and his eyes were clear. All yesterday they’d partied. Beer. Music. And food. So much good food. They’d danced and played cards and through it all his dad never touched a drop of alcohol. He’d watched them drink beer and get stupid, knowing that no one was in any shape to give him trouble if he decided to have a beer and join in. But he drank his ginger ale and never cracked. Curtis snuck another look at his dad. His hair was combed. And he’d even shaved again. Someone had fired up a time machine and sent him ten years back in time. Curtis half expected to see his mother materialize in the back seat and yell at him to get a haircut. With the way his dad looked, it felt like anything was possible.

  Angel had hooked the radio up before they took the car out and his dad fiddled with it. Music and commercials and weather reports and talk radio blurred as he went up and down the dial. His dad clicked the radio off. Only the hush of the road beneath the car wheels broke the silence. Then his dad glanced over. “You know what’s crazy?” he said.

  Curtis leaned back, feeling the sun on his face. “What?” he said.

  “That I forgot what this felt like.”

  Curtis looked over. His dad’s eyes were shiny. Watery. He looked straight ahead as he talked.

  “It’s weird how things happen,” he said. “Years go by. You wonder where the time went. You just want to die and get it over with. Then you see a chance. So you grab it and the sun shines again.”

  His dad wiped his eyes.

  “Not sure if we’ll ever do anything together again,” he said. “But today, Curtis, you can count on me. Today, I’m a rock.”

  Curtis felt his dad pat him on the shoulder.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Curtis. “I missed you.”

  His dad nodded. “I missed me too.”

  His dad pulled into Malabar Farm. It was a perfect summer day. High seventies. Low humidity. A few puffy white clouds floated in a light blue sky. The parking lot at Malabar Farm was nearly full, which was good. The more people, the better. As his dad searched for a parking spot, Curtis looked over the grounds. Open fields spread away from the parking lot, eventually turning into wooded forests in the distance. Up the road was a barn. Animals milled around in the outside pens. Cows, horses, goats and sheep. The prize was past the barn at the top of the hill. A big white house with a green tin roof. That was Louis Bromfield’s house, where the two Grandma Moses paintings waited. His dad backed into an end spot on the parking lot, underneath a tree. Curtis opened his backpack and checked out his equipment. Everything was there. He zipped up his backpack.

  “I’m ready,” said Curtis. “Just cover me in there, give me a chance to hide, and get the hell out.”

  His dad nodded. “I’ll come back after it’s dark to pick you up. I’ll park across the street, at the bottom of the road leading up to Mount Jeez. Take your time and everything will be fine. I’ll be there no matter what. Nine at the latest.”

  “Ok,” said Curtis.

  He got out of the car and walked to the house, buying a tour ticket for himself and his dad. The tour group was big. Curtis walked inside with his dad. He hung back as the group started up the stairs, following the tour guide. The guide ascended the stairs, running his spiel about the history of the house. His dad positioned himself in front of the tour guide, blocking his view. Curtis dipped out of sight and slipped into a bedroom that was roped off. He took off his backpack, slid under the bed and looked at his watch. It was gonna be a while before the park closed. He curled up and went to sleep.

  It was dark when he woke. He slid out from under the bed, pulled out the backpack and listened. Crickets chirped from the fields surrounding the house.

  He took a penlight from his pocket and pulled the blueprint of the house from his backpack. The wooden floor creaked as he walked through the house. He only stopped moving twice before he realized his caution was unnecessary. The house was empty. In under a minute, he found the first painting. Another three minutes and he’d marked off where he needed to cut. The saw barely made a sound. It cut through the plaster, then the lathes. Curtis stopped cutting when he saw the backside of the painting. He put down the saw and rummaged through the backpack, finding a razor knife. He removed the back of the painting, cut the canvas from the frame, rolled it up and taped a reproduction in place. His patch job on the wall was sloppy. If anyone really looked at it, they’d see something was wrong, but it would give them time to sell the painting before anyone could make a fuss. He cleaned up, sweeping the dust and debris under a couch, and then moved on to the second painting and repeated the process.

  The whole heist took just over twenty minutes. He never broke a sweat.

  Making sure the two tubes holding the paintings were capped, Curtis zipped them into his backpack. He followed Angel’s blueprint to the attic. It was dark and full of spider webs, but the penlight gave him enough light to find the cupola and cut through the roof. Once he’d opened a hole, he pushed the backpack through and hoisted himself up. Then he crept across the roof to the garage with his backpack hooked over one shoulder. The ten foot drop to the gravel driveway was no problem.

  He skirted the treeline next to the house, staying in the shadows. Nothing moved. No lights came on. The place was deserted. Taking the road out of here would cut fifteen or twenty minutes off his escape, but he stuck to the plan, stayed in the shadows and walked out of the park without breaking a sweat. He ran across the road toward the silhouette of Mount Jeez. All he had to do now was get in the car with his dad and get back to Angel’s.

  As he crossed the road, only one thought crossed his mind.

  This had to be the easiest way to make a hundred thousand of all time.

  He stopped at the bottom of the road that led up to Mount Jeez.

  There was no car. No sign of his dad anywhere.

  He started walking up the road, thinking maybe there was a miscommunication. Maybe his dad parked at the top of Mount Jeez to stay out of sight. He trudged up the road, feeling his calves burn. It was a straight uphill climb.

  Breathing hard as he made it to the top, he turned in a circle. The summer night spread out
under him, fireflies winking over the fields around Malabar Farm. A cool breeze touched his face. He looked at his watch. Twenty-five after nine. He picked up a rock and threw it. His dad wasn’t here. Probably got drunk and passed out at the Red Fox. Might have even told people what they were doing.

  Dammit.

  It was a long way back into town, but since Angel took his cell, there was only one way to get there. He walked down from Mount Jeez to the road, hiked the straps of the backpack up on his shoulders and started jogging. If his dad got hung up somewhere, he’d drive down this road looking for him. There was a chance that something held his dad up and he’d come barreling through the night, making up for lost time. Curtis hoped he would. He prayed he would.

  He picked up the pace, feeling anger tighten his chest.

  But goddammit, he knew he wouldn’t.

  Even though the night was cool, the anger and jogging broke a sweat over Curtis’s face. In the first two miles of jogging he saw headlights coming his way twice. In both cases he waited until he was sure it wasn’t his dad driving the old Camaro before diving behind a tree. The first car was a big SUV. The second car was a police cruiser. That scared him. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten off the road before the cop saw him. He watched the cruiser woosh past. It took all he had to stay frozen behind a tree instead of running through the woods. He was sure it was going to squeal to a stop and spin its bubblegum lights. Maybe he’d tripped an alarm back at Malabar. Or his dad or Angel did something. As careful as they were, one of them had tipped off the cops and that’s why his dad never showed—his dad was sitting in an interrogation room being grilled by detectives. The whole thing was blowing up and he was just the last to know, hiding behind a tree on the side of a country road. His dream of getting out of town with Julia was over, and the brake lights on that cruiser were going to signal the end.

  But the brake lights never came on.

  He watched the cruiser dip around a curve and disappear. Walking out from behind the tree, he tightened the straps of his backpack and started jogging. Then he started running.

  When he finally stopped, he looked at his watch. He’d been running for a half hour. He wiped his face with the front of his shirt as he walked, catching his breath. There was a shopping plaza a couple miles ahead, on the Route 13 exit off the interstate. A long-haired hitchhiker with a backpack like himself wouldn’t draw any attention this close to the interstate. He’d hitch a ride to Angel’s garage.

  He started jogging again, seeing the parking lot lights of the shopping plaza appear over the horizon.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Julia raised up on tiptoe to kiss Curtis.

  “You be careful,” she said.

  “I’ll take care of him. No worries, little girl,” said Mickey, smiling and looking at his watch. “C’mon, Curtis. Those paintings are waiting for us.”

  “I’ll be back in no time,” said Curtis.

  Then he was gone. She watched the door close and turned to Angel, standing in the middle of the garage with his arms crossed.

  “They’re going to be okay, right?” she said.

  Angel nodded. He walked over and hugged her. He smelled good. His muscled chest rumbled as he talked.

  “By tonight, you and Curtis will be a hundred grand richer. And if something goes wrong, Curtis knows to drop everything and get out. The worst that happens is he comes back empty handed,” he said.

  “I’m holding you to that,” she said.

  “Fair enough,” said Angel. He grabbed her hand. “But you have to do something for me.”

  She followed him to his office and took a seat next to him as he logged on to his computer.

  “I’ve taken care of everything. Transportation to Europe and the certificates of authenticity and provenance for the paintings,” he said, opening his browser.

  Julia shook her head. “I don’t know about that kind of stuff.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said, typing in a web address. The login page for a bank appeared. “This is where the art dealer is depositing our money,” he said, turning to Julia. “I’m the only person that knows the login name and password, but I’m giving it to you, just in case.”

  “In case what?”

  Angel grabbed a piece of paper, wrote on it and folded it. He held it out to Julia. “I learned a long time ago, there’s no guarantees. Just take this,” he said.

  She took the paper.

  “Now memorize it and burn it,” said Angel.

  She looked at the paper and smiled. “Oh my God,” she said. “Really? This is your username and password?”

  Angel looked down, blushing.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” she said laughing.

  He grabbed the paper, pulled out a lighter and put a flame to it.

  Julia stood and kissed Angel’s cheek while he turned the paper in his hand, making sure it burned to nothing before dropping it in an ashtray.

  “You’re such a good guy,” she said.

  Angel pointed at her, his eyes narrowing. “No one ever knows that username or password.”

  Julia drew an X on her chest. “Cross my heart.”

  Angel closed his browser and shut down his computer. “Okay,” he said, standing. “The bank website is on my favorites. All the money will be deposited after the mule picks up the paintings tomorrow morning. He’ll be here at six a.m.” He lowered his chin to his chest and stared at her. “But if I’m not here, make sure he does not leave with the paintings until the money is in the account. Got it?”

  She nodded and followed him out of the office into the garage. Angel was an interesting guy. Looked mean as a pit bull, but had a big heart. She grabbed his hand.

  “What are you doing today?” she said.

  “You’re looking at it,” he said. “We’re staying put and waiting for Curtis and Mickey.”

  “Do you know Curtis’s friend, Sonny?”

  “Sure do. That knucklehead worked for me,” said Angel. “Good kid. Too bad he got his head smashed in.”

  Julia pulled him toward a motorcycle parked in the garage. She sat on the bike and patted the seat. “Get on. I have something to show you.”

  Angel raised his eyebrows. “If you say so,” he said. He opened a bay door and straddled the seat, letting Julia wrap her arms around him. He rolled through the open door, closed it, and turned to Julia.

  “Which way?” he said.

  “The hospital,” Julia yelled, tucking her face against Angel’s back.

  He hit the street and punched through the gears. She grinned. This was gonna be good. Angel was gonna bust when he saw Sonny was okay.

  Julia led the way to Sonny’s room. They got there a couple minutes before visiting hours, but the nurse waved them through. The ride over was fun. Everyone on the streets stared at them. Angel was a badass, riding his bike with a curvy young girl hanging on him. Julia smiled, barely able to hold in a laugh. But she knew more about Angel. She reached for the door to Sonny’s room and pulled it open. After seeing his username and password, she knew he—

  Angel pushed past her. All the strength dropped out of her. She grabbed the door knob with both hands to stay upright. Angel jumped on the bed and grabbed Sonny’s around the waist, lifting him.

  “Help me,” yelled Angel. “Untie him.”

  Julia got on the bed, working to untie the cord around Sonny’s neck. His face was blue. His tongue was blue. And he was cold. She struggled with the knot, noticing that he’d used some kind of bandage to do this. A shiver ran through her. Sonny’s skin was clay. Thick and cold. The knot came loose and she pulled the bandage off his neck. Angel lowered him to the bed and began doing mouth-to-mouth, then started chest compressions.

  “Get a doctor or a nurse,” Angel said between pushes on Sonny’s chest. She stepped off the bed, watching.

  “I said get somebody,” said Angel, his eyes darkening.

  “It’s not gonna help,” she said.

  Angel pushed on Sonny’s che
st again.

  Julia grabbed Angel’s hands. “Please, stop,” she said. “He’s gone.”

  Angel pulled his hands away. He stared at Sonny and backed up, bumping into a chair. He turned and kicked the chair over. The tie holding his ponytail came loose as he ran his fingers through his hair. His long black hair fell over his shoulders and shimmered around his face. His eyes were wet, but he didn’t cry. Julia could see his anger building as he walked in a tight circle.

  “Why?” he said “Why did he do this?” He stopped and looked at Julia. “Why?”

  Julia was dumbstruck. “I don’t know,” she said, bending down to pick up Angel’s hair band. “He was fine yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?” said Angel.

  “He came out of his coma. Me and Curtis talked to him. I thought you’d like to see him.”

  “Curtis brought you here?” said Angel. “Everyone in town is looking for him. I told him not to… ah hell.” He stomped over to the bed and shoved Sonny. “And I told you to stay away from Barry. I told you you’d get yourself killed. And now look at you.” He shoved Sonny harder. “Why did you do this, you coward?”

  “What’s that?” said Julia.

  “I said he’s a coward. For killing himself. No matter how bad it was, he could’ve come to me. He could’ve—”

  “No, no,” said Julia, walking over. “There’s something under him.” She walked over, grabbed Sonny by his shoulders and lifted. “See? It’s right there,” she said through clenched teeth, hoisting Sonny to a sitting position.

  Angel grabbed the yellow sheet of legal paper.

  Julia laid Sonny down. She watched a change come over Angel as he read the paper. A light of realization filled his eyes. He folded the paper, stuck it in his pocket and laid his hand on Sonny’s head.

  “Sorry, Sonny.” He closed Sonny’s eyes. “You rest in peace, brother.”

  “What did it say?” she asked.