Of Kings And Pawns
Page 2
Albert arrived at the doorway of John’s room and peeked inside. John was looking down at the dark red gem Katherine had given him for his birthday. “I was wondering when you were going to finally put that on,” Albert said, his voice hoarse from all the years of smoking.
John, who was deep in thought, was startled by his father sneaking up on him. “Oh. Hi, Dad...yeah…I found it in my box.” John straightened himself up and turned to face his dad.
“I miss her too, John,” he said as he entered the room. He walked up and placed his hand on John’s shoulder. “I wish she could be here with us and see how much you’ve grown.”
John always had an uneasy feeling about his mom’s accident. He always felt like his dad never told him the whole story of what had happened to her. He couldn’t decide if his dad was just protecting him or if he was hiding something.
“Yeah, I miss her too,” John replied solemnly as he gazed back at the gem.
“How do you like the house, son?” Albert asked, trying to get off the subject of Katherine.
“It’s okay, I guess. I just hope there are kids that live nearby so I can actually make some friends.”
Ever since Katherine died, Albert noticed that John had been standoffish. He hardly talked, and there was little to no enthusiasm in his voice. Whenever Albert tried talking to his son, he felt that John was distant, lost.
“John, I’m sorry the past five years have been so rough. But this is finally a chance for us to live a normal life. Since my promotion at work, we don’t have to move anymore. We can settle in this town, on this farm, and you can spend the rest of your school years here. I’m sure you will make a whole lot of friends here. A business partner of mine recommended this place because of how nice the people were.” Albert looked around John’s room and took a deep breath. “And one day, John, this house will be yours.”
John continued to stare deep into the gem. He brought his head up and stared at his dad with a somber look on his face. He forced a half smile. “Thanks, Dad,” he replied reluctantly. “I’m sure this house and town will grow on me.”
Albert flashed a smile and began to walk back to the doorway of John’s room. He turned back at the door. “You getting hungry, son? What do you want for dinner?”
“I don’t know. Spaghetti?”
“Okay, John. I’ll go get dinner started for us.” Albert smiled warmly as he tapped the frame of John’s door and reentered the clustered hallway.
***
I hate when he does that. Every time he brings Mom up, he then tries to apologize, like it’s going to bring her back. John pounded his fist on the footboard of his bed and then sat down on it, knocking over his box of comics in the process.
He looked down at a comic book and picked it up. “Hello, old friend,” he said. He lay back on his bed and opened his comic book to read it. It was about a detective named Dan Miller who worked in the big city. Detective Miller was investigating a case in which the criminals would rob banks and stores. They would then leave the city and store all their money in their secret hide-away on a farm in the countryside.
It was Detective Miller’s job to find the robbers and all the money. John loved reading how Detective Miller solved his cases and wished one day he could be a detective too and stop all the criminals. As he delved deeper and deeper into the book, his eyes became heavier and heavier. He dropped his book on his face a few times before placing it down for good.
As John dozed off for a quick nap, he dreamt of being Detective Miller, working the tough streets of the city. He was walking down a sidewalk with his nicely pressed suit covered by a giant tan raincoat. He was heading to the most recent crime scene of the bank robbers. The bank was next to the Home Motel. Detective Davis couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about that motel looked and felt familiar, like a clue.
John shrugged it off and jogged up the steps of the bank. The enormous bank floor was filled with cops who were taking pictures and getting statements from witnesses. He walked past his fellow officers doing all the tedious work and headed to see the bank manager.
He made his way around one of the metal counters and approached the manager’s office when he was stopped by his secretary at her desk. “I’m sorry, Detective,” she said. “The manager is busy now.”
John turned to the secretary, irate that she had the nerve to stop him. “I don’t care…,” he began when he stopped himself. He was awe-struck by the beauty of the secretary. With her silky blond hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, bright red lipstick, and matching red dress. She looked like a movie star, not a secretary working at some bank.
“Sorry,” John stammered, as he changed the tone of his voice. “Will he be much longer?”
“He should be almost done, Detective,” she replied with her warm and inviting eyes.
“I’m John Davis.” He extended his hand to greet her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, John Davis,” she replied in her sweet, soft voice. She extended her hand out to shake his. “My name is…John,” her voice changed suddenly. It went from an angelic voice, to a deep, masculine one. John took a step back and looked puzzled at the secretary’s sudden change of voice.
“John,” he heard again. This time the voice seemed to fill the entire room. He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he was back in his room; it was a dream. At the door stood his dad. “John, dinner’s ready.”
“Okay, Dad, I'll be right down.” John was saddened that he was brought back to reality. Is my life this bad that I wish to remain in a dream than be back in the real world? I wish I could go back and be a detective, solving crimes and protecting the innocent. I wish I could see the bank manager’s secretary again.
John descended the stairs and turned right in the foyer. The kitchen and dining room were down the hall toward the back of the house. There was a view of the entire backyard from the kitchen. He entered the dining room and saw that his dad had everything ready and waiting for him. The dining room table, although small in stature, felt humongous to him when he had to share it with only his dad.
“Come and sit down, son,” Albert said as he reached across the side of the table and pulled out the chair. John hesitantly walked over and sat down next to Albert. He looked to his left and across from him, where his mother would've sat, and felt emptiness inside him. He didn’t want to be there, and it became harder and harder to deal with it when he had no one to talk to.
Albert had already filled his plate with spaghetti, bread, and vegetables when he looked over at John. “Aren't you going to eat, John? It’s going to get cold.”
“I'm not that hungry, Dad. I…I don’t feel good.” He dropped his head in shame.
Albert laid down his fork full of noodles, and looked over at John. “I made this for us, and you’re not going to eat.” His tone changed from concern to irritation. “Eat some of it at least.”
John continued to look down, afraid to look his father in the eyes. “No, thank you. I'm not hungry. Dad, can I please go upstairs? I just want to lie down right now.”
Albert pounded his fist on the table in frustration. “Go,” he yelled. “Go up to your room, and I don't want to see you for the rest of the night!”
John finally mustered the courage to look up at his father. He could see the anger and frustration in his face and eyes. Albert raised his hand up to strike John, causing him to flinch and run out of the kitchen before his father was able to strike.
John ran as fast as his legs could take him. He ran into his room, closed the door behind him, and locked it in place. He jumped onto his bed and threw the covers over his head. He cried from the deep anger, frustration, and sadness he held inside. He could hear his dad yelling from the bottom of the staircase, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying, and he didn’t want to leave his room to find out.
Only one thought came to his mind as he sat there. He squeezed the gem tightly in his hand. Mommy, I wish you were here.
***
Albert walked over to the closet under the stairs and snatched a flashlight. He walked through the front door and grabbed the pick and shovel he had left on the ground. At this point he had calmed himself down. He took a deep breath of the crisp Nevada air and looked up at the stars littered throughout the sky.
He began walking toward the barn, in the back of his home. “One day,” he said to himself. “One day.”
***
As Albert walked toward his barn, shovel, pick, and flashlight in hand, a man watched from his car. Little did Mr. Davis know, this man had been watching him and his family for a long time now. At every stop on their way, from the time Albert entered the program until that moment, this man had followed. He had charted and logged every stop the Davises had made. The man placed his binoculars down on his passenger seat, grabbed a cigarette from his jacket pocket, and lit it. He brought his cigarette down to his gold watch, so he could see the time. “Eight oh eight,” he said out loud. He grabbed his notebook and carefully scribbled:
“July 10, 1977
20:08 hours: Albert Davis walking to red barn, with tools and flashlight.
Yelling heard from house between Albert and John.
John not seen. Possibly in room.”
The man placed his notebook down and took another drag from his cigarette, and then grabbed his binoculars and continued to watch Albert.
Chapter 2
This evening was like any other recent night in the Davis household. A week had passed since Albert’s outburst, and the tension between father and son had not subsided. Communication had been a problem since Katherine passed away. She was the voice that mediated both husband and son through adversity. She would calm Albert down and reason with him; she would comfort John and console him. Her absence left a void that had not been filled.
John had just finished his cold ham and cheese sandwich and was heading back to his room. It had become routine for John to make his own meals and eat them alone. In a sense, he preferred it that way. The idea of sharing a table and meal with his dad and hearing him bring up his mom again wasn’t appealing to him.
He walked to the foyer and was about to ascend the stairs when he heard his dad call for him from the living room.
“Hey, John,” Albert hollered from his comfy recliner.
John turned around from the base of the staircase and walked into the living room, which was adjacent to the foyer. Albert lounged on his green and brown plaid recliner which faced the television. The recliner’s leg rest was no longer working, so Albert compensated by using an unpacked cardboard box. Though the Davises had been living in the house for about two weeks, some rooms still had unpacked boxes, which had begun to collect dust.
“John, come over here,” Albert said as he leaned back in his chair. “I want to show you something.”
John walked to Albert’s side and stood there, waiting for the next instructions from his dad.
Albert patted an unpacked box that lay next to the recliner. “Sit down over here, son. Come watch this with me.”
John reluctantly sat down on the box next to Albert. “What is this?” he questioned as they both stared at the TV.
“It’s a movie that I used to watch when I was a child growing up,” Albert explained. “You see that man?” He pointed to a gentleman in an expensive-looking suit. “That’s Edwin Hicky. In this movie, he is a businessman who is down on his luck. To protect his family he decides to steal from the company that fired him and did him wrong.”
John watched Edwin exit a building with a briefcase full of money and placed it in his car. “So this guy is a thief?” John asked bluntly.
“Yes, but he’s doing it for a good reason. It’s to provide for his family,” Albert explained, as he tried to justify Edwin’s motives. “If you were in his shoes and you needed to provide for your family, wouldn’t you do the same?”
“No, I wouldn’t, Dad. What he is doing is wrong,” John replied, unwavering in his tone.
“Can you understand what he’s doing and why he’s doing it, though?”
“Yes. But it still doesn’t mean his actions are right, and I hope he gets caught for breaking the law.”
A silence rained over the walls of the living room as father and son continued to watch the black and white movie. Albert was hoping he could have John relate to Edwin, so that one day he would understand what he had done and why.
“Dad, can I go back to my room?” John eventually asked, breaking the silence in the process.
“Yes, you can, son. You don’t want to watch the rest of the movie with me?”
“No, I want to go and read in my room.”
Albert began to slouch in his recliner. “Okay, John. Have a good night.”
John stood up from his makeshift chair. “Good night, Dad.” He quickly headed upstairs to the confines of his room.
Albert sat, quietly. His attention strayed from the television to the thoughts swirling around in his head. I was hoping he would understand and relate to Edwin. I don’t wish he becomes Edwin…or worse, someone like me. But I was hoping he would understand, at the least. He’s old enough to know the truth. Should I just tell him? But what do I tell him about Kat? He can’t know the truth about what I did; he might expose me and ruin everything. Even if it was a mistake, and it happened all those years ago, I can’t take that risk. I can’t tell him yet. I should count everything first to make sure that it is all there.
He remained in deep thought as he stared blankly at the TV. He pondered what to do and how he was going to do it. What happens if John doesn’t approve of what I’ve done and doesn’t want to go with me anymore? Do I leave him behind? Force him to come with me?
First things first, when John falls asleep, I’ll go and count everything. After that, I should separate it into two piles. One pile in case John is all right with my news and wishes to stay with me and another if he doesn’t want to stay with me. I can take enough to get me out of the country where I can start my new life.
***
What was Dad trying to tell me? We’ve hardly spoken to one another this past week, and when we have, it has never been about what’s right and wrong? Albert’s intrigue about John’s moral compass weighed on John as he climbed the flight of stairs to his room. What was he trying to say?
John soon dismissed his father’s intensions; he assumed his dad had just been trying to connect with him and make small talk. He was just glad his dad didn’t bring up his mom again. John reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his flashlight from the drawer. He grabbed his Detective Miller comic book and lay on his bed. He decided to do some more reading before falling asleep. Detective Miller had solved the case of the bank robbers and was now on the case of the jewelry thief.
He read for quite some time before his eyes got heavy. As he put his book and flashlight away, he lay back and thought of his mother. “Goodnight, Mom,” he said to the dark red gem as he gripped it one last time and then placed it in his drawer. “I wish you were here.”
John closed his eyes, nuzzled into his soft bed, and wrapped himself in his blanket. He continued to think of his mom as his body got heavier and his breathing got deeper. The grip he had on his pillow and blanket loosened, and soon John slipped into a slumber. He shortly awoke as Detective Davis.
***
Detective John Davis stood outside of the latest crime scene of the jewelry thieves, the Home Jewelry Store. As he tossed his finished cigarette on the ground and smashed it with his brown leather shoe, he couldn’t help but notice the jewelry store’s sign, illuminated in red neon lights. Detective Davis couldn’t put his finger on
it, why the sign stood out. He shrugged off the feeling of déjà vu and proceeded into the jewelry store, scribbling in his notebook as he went along.
Here we go again, he thought as he walked through the barred glass doors. The Home Jewelry Store was different than most jewelry stores John had seen. Most had one floor of display counters filled with gold, diamonds, and other highly priced valuables. Toward the back would typically be where the store manager’s office as well as an area for the employees were located.
This jewelry store, however, had two stories. The floor area had more than double the glass displays one would find in a normal jewelry store. The offices were located on the second floor. Two spiral staircases, at each corner of the back wall, ascended to an interior balcony protected by black metal railings. The balcony overlooked the entire floor, and an upstairs walkway led to a hallway where the rest of the offices were located.
Every crime scene was the same. Officers taking pictures, dusting for fingerprints, and interviewing witnesses…all felt very redundant to Detective Davis. It seemed a waste of time. Man-power combed through all the evidence when ninety-nine percent of that search was useless. Even witness statements on what they each had seen would contradict one another at times. He felt this way because he had a gift that no one else had. He could tell, by subtle movements in the face or tone of someone’s voice, whether they were lying or not. It allowed him to distinguish useful informants and potential suspects from the rest. That’s what made him the best at what he did.
As his associates combed through the evidence, Detective Davis navigated the floor. He was in search of the store manager. He had learned throughout his years that a heist of any nature needed to be organized. The chances of the heist involving managers of an establishment were high because of their knowledge of the day-to-day operations of their store. Whether they are bribed into helping, forced into helping, or are a part of the heist itself, the manager usually knew something and he was going to find out what that was.