Pierce

by Dale Mayer

  “It was me,” Pete rushed to say. “She’s very active. The last thing she needs is somebody like me saddled at her side.”

  “I think you are supposed to give her that choice,” Pierce said, “not make that decision for her.”

  “Sometimes we have to make decisions for others,” Pete said, “because they don’t know enough to make an informed choice.”

  “Meaning, you didn’t let her see how bad it was and the modifications you’d need to have a relationship with her.”

  “Something like that.” Pete’s voice grew stronger. “I don’t know what kind of physical condition you ended up in, but I’m in rough shape. I wouldn’t put that on anybody.”

  “I know you don’t believe it,” Pierce said, “but the human body really can heal.” And on that note he hung up.

  He’d heard and seen an awful lot of guys just like Pete walk away from everything they knew because they figured they were less than a whole person, thinking it was a kindness to walk away from their former relationships. And sometimes they were just too angry, not ready to deal with the fact that their life had changed and not able to believe a partner could live with it. So much anger led to a lot of violence, harsh words said that could never be taken back. It sucked all around, but it happened.

  He turned the truck engine on again, tossing the phone beside him, and drove until he saw the driveway that went to Ross’s place. … Pete’s place, he corrected because Ross liked to think it was his place, but it wasn’t. It was Pete’s.

  As Pierce drove up, he took note of the driveway. Pete would need a vehicle modified so he could drive with his hands, not his feet, and to get a wheelchair in and out of. He thought of Kat when he thought of prosthetics. Pete’s medical records would determine what she could do for him.

  Pierce pulled up to the front of the house and parked, thinking there should be a garage. Right now there was just dirt, gravel, rocks, a bit of a garden and some steps. But there was lots of room to throw up a ramp.

  He hopped out, grabbed a notebook and pen from his glove box, took his phone again and walked toward the front steps. Using his phone, he took several pictures from both angles where a ramp could be built. There was no need to make a big deal out of it; it was only four steps. A ramp wouldn’t be a problem, and, once Pete got up those four steps, there was a huge wide veranda. It wasn’t a narrow one, barely enough room for a chair. This one was big enough for a table and a couple chairs, which meant the wheelchair could turn around and move in and out. He studied the front door and then said out loud, “That would need to be changed.”

  “Hey, who are you, and what are you doing?” called out a man from deep inside the house.

  Pierce ignored him, measured off the door and took a solid look at the outside. “Definitely need to have double doors that open at the same time. Certainly couldn’t do with a thirty-two-inch exterior door. Why would anyone put such a small exterior door on? Should have been a forty at least.” He jotted down more notes, took pictures and measurements. A big window was to the side of the door. He figured, if the window came out, a nice big double set of doors could go in.

  As he wrote down notes, the door pulled open, and Ross glared at him sleepy-eyed, his hair still tousled in all directions. Pierce looked at him and said, “Hey. Did I wake you?”

  “Yeah, you woke me,” Ross snapped. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

  “Were you working last night? Sorry. I’m not used to people sleeping this late,” Pierce said, making a point to check his watch. It was well past eleven. “But then I guess night shift really sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “I wasn’t working. Not that it’s any of your business.” He looked at the notepad and pen in Pierce’s hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking notes on modifications for Pete. I’m glad you’re up. I need to get in the house anyway.” And he stepped inside, not giving Ross a chance to argue.

  “What are you talking about? Pete is in rehab, and that’s where he’ll stay,” Ross said. “No way he can come back home.”

  “Why is that?” Pierce asked as he studied the inside of the door frame. He could definitely double the size of the door by taking that window out. He stepped back and took a picture of it.

  “Stop that,” Ross said. “You’ve got no business in my house. Pete can’t come home because he’s too injured.”

  “Pete is healing.” Pierce turned to look at him. “I’ve talked to him several times.”

  “So what? He ain’t coming home, no way. That ain’t happening.” Ross snorted and picked up a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a deep drag on the filter end. Within seconds he blew it out.

  Pierce could see almost a calm come over him. “You’re pretty addicted to those, aren’t you?”

  Ross raised an eyebrow. “None of your business.”

  “Nope, not my business that you’re killing yourself. Of course it is now that you’re smoking inside in front of me, but hey …” Pierce turned and moved off down the hallway.

  He measured the width of the hallway, happy to see it was plenty wide for a wheelchair. It might be one person at a time, but the wheelchairs these days were pretty high-end machines. He took the hall down to what appeared to be a large bedroom. He suspected Ross had come stumbling out from there and assumed he wouldn’t be impressed to hear the latest plans.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Ross roared. “Get out of my bedroom.”

  “This is the master bedroom, isn’t it?” Pierce asked, feigning innocence.

  Ross frowned at him. “Yeah, of course it’s the master bedroom. And I’m the master of the house.”

  At that, Pierce straightened. “This is Pete’s house.”

  “It is, but my brother ain’t never coming back. Did you hear that? That makes me the master of the damn house,” he said belligerently.

  Pierce reached up and poked him in the chest. “This is Pete’s house. This is Pete’s master bedroom. Pete is coming back to sleep in his master bedroom. Got that?” And he poked him with every word he said.

  He had Ross stepping halfway down the hallway, and then Pierce turned back into the master bedroom.

  As he stood here, he looked at the entranceway, not liking the size of the door. Somehow the hallway looked like it had narrowed slightly. Out came his trusty tape measure, and he sized up the entranceway.

  In the meantime, Ross came back in. “You’ve got no fucking business being here,” he snapped.

  At that Pierce pulled out his phone and called Pete. When he answered, he said, “Hey, Pete, I’m putting you on speaker.” He watched the color disappear from Ross’s face. “Your brother says it’s his house, and I have no business taking measurements.”

  Pete’s voice came out of the speaker, gaining strength with every second. “Ross, you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. What the hell’s going on, man?”

  Pierce was happy to hear Ross sounding like a whiny child.

  “Pierce is there to take some measurements to see just what kind of money is needed to make modifications so I can come home again,” Pete said happily.

  “Hey, man, I know that’s a dream for you, but it’s a pipe dream. Remember there’s just no money.”

  At that Pierce smiled at him. “Yeah, we’ll talk more about that.”

  Ross looked at him, and Pierce could see a bead of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “There ain’t nothing to talk about, Pete. You know that. You know there’s no money.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out why there’s no money,” Pete said. “I know how much money was in that account, and I’ve got the accountants taking a look at it to see if we can make this happen.”

  “Yeah, but I had to fix a few things here,” Ross whined. “And I can’t live here for nothing.”

  “No, absolutely not,” Pierce said. “So you’re looking after this place. What’s that worth? A couple hundred bucks a week?”

  “At least,” he said. “I gotta make su
re nobody breaks into the place and causes damage,” Ross blustered, then straightened, as if feeling like he was on better ground. “If we’ll start looking at that, Jesus, my brother owes me a couple grand for being here.”

  “Just a couple grand?” Pierce asked. “How long have you lived here?”

  “I don’t know. It must be about, maybe not quite a year. What do you think, Pete? How long has it been since you went in there?”

  “It’s been just over six months,” Pete said, his tone wry. “I can see you moved in quite nicely, but it’s only been six months, bro.”

  “Feels longer,” Ross said. “So six months, you know, that’s like twenty-five hundred bucks.”

  “Sure, but if you, as a renter, look at the rental stats around here, I understand that places go for about five hundred a month, and a whole house goes for about eight hundred. Eight hundred times six is four thousand eight hundred. So by my calculations, you still owe Pete about twenty-three hundred. You only worked off half the rent.”

  Silence.

  Finally Ross blubbered away. “Hey, Pete, what the hell is going on here?” He kept walking, pacing back and forth, sucking on a cigarette like a drowning man.

  Not wanting Pete to back down, Pierce said, “Pete, I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” He hung up and pocketed the phone, going back to looking at the measurements of the bedroom. “This is a nice-size room,” he commented out loud. “It’s definitely big enough for a wheelchair.”

  “Man, Pete can’t be out here alone,” his brother said. “It’s not good for him.”

  “Yeah? Why is that?” Pierce measured the room, just so they had the basics for when they needed them.

  He walked into the en suite bath and immediately knew the door would need to come off. Thankfully there was room on either side. They could just take out the door and leave it open.

  He wandered through the old-fashioned bathroom, thinking out loud, “This is where the money will go.”

  “I told you there’s no way we can modify it enough for Pete to come home.”

  Pierce turned to look at Ross, who appeared to be feeling better at that news. “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll find yourself out on the street?”

  Ross frowned at him. “You’re making yourself a lot of enemies. I want my brother home as much as the next man, but not if it’ll mean another failure for him.”

  “It’s only a failure if you don’t try,” Pierce snapped back at Ross. “You’re sitting here, living high on the hog in your brother’s place without doing anything to give back. If we find out you’ve taken any of his money, you can bet out on the street will be the least of your problems.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked. “You don’t know nothing about my money.”

  Pierce just snorted. “Let me put it this way. Every government-issued penny Pete had in that bank account better have one hell of an explanation if it’s not there, or you’ll find yourself in jail.”

  “Ha. The sheriff ain’t doing nothing,” Ross said. “We’re buddies, and he knows I need money to live.”

  “Yeah? Did you pay him with any of Pete’s money?” He watched something cross in Ross’s gaze. And he nodded to himself. “You do realize Pete is a vet, right? He gets special privileges, and, when he needs a lawyer, he gets a lawyer.”

  Pierce didn’t know for sure that the government would provide an attorney, but he knew plenty of guys who would pitch in and help out a veteran like Pete for free if it came to that. If his brother was stealing from him while he was in a rehab center, a lot of guys would come and move Ross out and dump him several counties over, then come back and fix up Pete’s place for him. “That’s pension money, and, if you’re stealing that …” Pierce just shook his head. “You ain’t going to like jail much. And it ain’t going to be down here at the county lockup. This will be big-time. Actually it’ll be hard time.” His voice held a word of warning. “So, before I get to checking Pete’s bank account and making sure everything is kosher, you better make sure every penny is back in there.”

  Ross’s face turned white.

  Pierce looked at his watch. “You got four hours.”

  Ross started blustering.

  “I said, four hours,” Pierce stated, his voice hard, cold. “I’ve already got people looking into this, but I’ll give you four hour’s grace to make sure every goddamn penny is back in Pete’s account.”

  “I can’t,” Ross whined. “I had to pay the utility bills.”

  “Yeah, you did, and maybe the taxes, depending on when they came due. And maybe the house insurance, depending on when that was due. But there had better be an invoice and a receipt for every penny you took.”

  “I had to have food,” he whined. “He owed me for looking after this place. I had to buy groceries. And gas …” Ross wrung his hands.

  Pierce stared at him in disgust. “You heard me. Four hours. A full accounting of every penny and all the proper receipts. And there sure as hell better be an awful lot of receipts in your hands. I suggest you run along and take care of that because, in four hours I’ll come knocking, and you’d better have that ready. Now, you’re stopping me from doing my work. Get the hell out of here.”

  He waited until Ross returned to the living room, figuring Ross wouldn’t do what he was told. Instead he was probably making some calls. Pierce’d bet five bucks that Ross was calling the sheriff first, then Jed next.

  Pierce checked his watch and wondered how long he had before the cavalry showed up to defend Ross. Pierce figured maybe thirty minutes, possibly an hour, not more.

  Pierce grabbed his tape measure and headed into the bathroom. He’d like to see this room completely gutted and start from scratch. With all the measurements down, he turned and walked back to the living room.

  He wandered the space, realizing this was an older house with lots of rooms, lots of walls, whereas he preferred the open concept, which would be much easier for wheelchair adaptation too. But it was post-and-beam construction. A lot of these walls looked to have been put in afterward, which meant they could also come out.

  He took more photographs, wandered around, then headed for the kitchen. In order for Pete to be independent, he needed access to the kitchen and the room to work in it. Pierce winced when he saw it. It wasn’t that it was bad; it was just old, and it was tiny. Back to that whole walls coming out thing.

  He took more measurements, and an idea started to form about how the kitchen should be. He’d always loved cabinet working and carpentry. Remodels were just part of life as far as he was concerned. He’d grown up with a father who was in real estate, and they used to buy and fix up homes and sell them. He’d learned a lot, and he was grateful for every lesson because he would need every one of them here and now. He might find a few local people to help; otherwise he would have to bring in some specialized guys to do the work, and that would get pricey.

  He opened the fridge and saw three-quarters of it was full of booze. In disgust he slammed it shut and checked out the plumbing under the sink. It was still copper piping, which said an awful lot about the age of the house too.

  “Well, Pete, it will take some money, but we can do a lot on a little.”

  From the kitchen was a single glass door that opened up onto a deck. He popped it open and looked at the glass door and wrote down another note. It had to be wider, and a ramp was needed to get in and out. The damn threshold was raised, so it would be hard to get the chair’s wheels up and over it. This was a shitty job. It should have been put in flush.

  He stepped out on the deck and walked the back of the house, taking pictures as he went. There was no railing, but it was wide enough, and stairs were at both ends. The stairs could come out, and ramps could go in, so that was a pretty minor job too. He headed back inside and took a look at the staircase going up. Depending on what Pete wanted to do, the stairs could stay, and an elevator could go in.

  As he walked around the side, moving toward the front of the house
, he heard the sounds of a vehicle coming, then another and another. He gave a grim smile, tucked his notepad and pen inside his pocket, picked up his phone and dialed. “How you doing, Pete?” he asked as soon as Pete answered.

  “I’m doing okay. What do you think of the house?”

  “Definitely needs some work done to accommodate you,” he said. “The en suite bathroom is likely the biggest cost. The kitchen is a bit small too. But it won’t be impossible to do.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Pete said with relief. “It depends on the money then, doesn’t it?”

  “Depends on how much money you’ve got and how much help we can rustle up to make some of these changes, also on your mobility.” He stood at the front door. “Your brother has called the cavalry too.”

  “He’s what?” Pete yelled out in alarm. “What are you talking about?”

  “Pretty sure he’s got the sheriff and Jed and God-only-knows-who-else coming down here to have a talk with me and to try to run me off your place.”

  “Jesus, that’s not good,” Pete said, sputtering. “I’m getting off the phone, and I’ll call you some help.” And just like that he hung up.

  Pierce laughed. He walked to his truck, pulled out his handgun from the glove box and put it in his shoulder holster he wore underneath his overshirt. Then he walked back to the front steps as the vehicles pulled up and parked. He looked at the sheriff who hopped out and walked toward him, shifting his belt up over his gut. “Sheriff, good to see you again,” he said.

  “What’s this I hear about you running Ross off?”

  Pierce raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything about running Ross off. I said his brother was looking for an accounting of what kind of work he’d done and how much money he’d spent in the time he’s been gone because Pete is on his way back home soon and needs a certain amount of money to make changes on his property.”

  The sheriff frowned. “What? Pete is coming back?”

  “Yeah, Pete is coming back,” Pierce said. “We’ve been back and forth on the phone all day. I talked to him about the various changes required on his house.” He launched into an explanation on how he will put a ramp in and double up the front door so the wheelchair could fit.