The Chardon Chronicles: Season One -- The Harvest Festival

by Kevin Kimmich

  “Yello.” Robbie answered.

  “Hey, Robbie Wells?”

  “Oh hey! Keith! I remember you, just barely.”

  “Yeah, I was in Matty’s class. But not in many classes with Matty. Smart dude.”

  “No doubt. My brother is a genius.”

  “I was a dumb jock… Somehow my daughter ended up with some smarts.”

  “Chloe’s a really special girl. You must be proud.”

  “Thanks! That means a lot. Tracy seems like a really sweet kid.”

  “She really is a mix of Matt and Telia… but a little more fun loving and wild than they are.”

  Keith thought it was a little weird he kept using the present tense about Tracy’s parents but let it go. “So, Chloe said to call. What’s up?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t want it to seem too weird. I assume the girls filled you in?”

  “No, not really, just said Tracy’d be staying a while. It’s fine with me. We have plenty of space.”

  “Ahh. Yeah. Say, I wanted to ask you a favor, and believe me, I’m happy to reciprocate in any way.”

  “Oh speaking of, Chloe told me about her car. That’s really exciting. Thanks!”

  “Sure… So, Chloe’s mentioned some of the skills you’ve taught her.”

  “Yep… Like?”

  “Driving… She knows Judo.”

  Keith laughed. “Yeah, that’s our daddy-daughter bonding.”

  “Any firearms training?” Robbie asked matter of factly.

  “Umm. Just a little. To the range a few times.”

  “I was wondering if you’d get Tracy over to the range… teach her the basics. I haven’t had a chance to do it. I’ll talk to her about it so it’s not totally out of left field. I am completely tied up here.”

  “Yeah, OK. I guess so.”

  “Great! I hope we get a chance to meet soon.”

  “Likewise. Take care Robbie.” He hung up.

  He was intrigued about the request, but put the thought out of his mind and focused on the upcoming meeting. He hoped to get a sounding from Dickie Parsons about the account if he could. Any other information would be a bonus.

  He pulled into the driveway and honked the horn. He stepped out of the car. He held a briefcase and tried to exude officialdom.

  Dickie opened the door. He had mutton chops that were only about 2 inches apart from being a full beard. His hair was black and wavy and close to his head, like a helmet. One of his eyes squinted habitually. He had on overalls and a green T-shirt and was carrying a pet ferret.

  “Mornin’ c’mon in. Don’t mind the mess.”

  The house was stacked with several boxes, some opened, some still taped shut. The boxes were from different online retailers, and Keith noticed they all had different addresses--none of them to Dickie. The stuff would soon be sold online. He was a small time thief.

  Keith looked around for any weapons, but didn’t see anything. Dickie cleared off a spot on a chair for him, and he slumped down onto the couch.

  “Mr. Parsons, I was wondering how you knew Mz. Cantoe. You must be important to her in some way to be her beneficiary.”

  Dickie smiled. “Oh, I can’t kiss and tell, now, can I? We wuz friends at work years back. Stayed in touch all this time. She’d crash here when she wuz still married. Them days are long gone. That man’s longer gone.” he laughed.

  “Did she ever mention anything about her parents?”

  Dickie laughed, “oh yeah… Rich bitches… freaks. Did you know her dad raped her?”

  Keith was genuinely shocked. “No. Goodness no.”

  “Yeah not just once… Like all the time. Can you imagine the sick mind? Anyway. She told me about it when she’d get stoned. Not only rape, but weird shit, too. Killing animals. Weird costumes and robes and shit. Oh yeah, and locking her and her sister up in the basement.”

  “My goodness. That’s an amazing story. You mean, down in Hudson?”

  “Yeah… family was in a cult or some shit. She called it something…” He held up a finger. “Jupiter something… Anyway, some weird shit happens.” he laughed.

  “No doubt. Well, thank you Mr. Parsons. Down to business! Here’s a check for the total amount from the account.”

  “I thought it was bottomless?” Dickie said.

  “Oh, really? How did you hear that?”

  “Oh shit, ‘tween you and me we partied large on that account for a long time… barely lived through that!” he smacked his knee. “the balance was always the same.”

  “Interesting. Anyway, endorse the check, and I guess you can party with what’s left. Don’t spend it all at one place!”

  His eyes gleamed, “wooo woooo!” he fist pumped and he danced in his seat. “I’m gonna get laid tonight!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Morgan started the truck. He adjusted the rear view mirror and the seat. He put it in drive and stepped on the gas. It lurched away down the driveway.

  “Whoa!” he said out loud. He stepped on the brake and skidded to a stop. “OK. I need to be more gradual…” he slowly accelerated up to a normal speed, then braked to an easy stop. “Alright!”

  He started the GPS and started following the instructions. After about 10 minutes he felt comfortable--then he got to the freeway. There were a few moments of terror getting into the traffic, but once he merged he relaxed. He stayed over in the right lane and went exactly the speed limit for the rest of the trip.

  He got to the airport about an hour too early. He parked in the lot and walked to the terminal. He’d arranged to meet Alfonse at a coffee shop on the main concourse. They’d exchanged pictures of their faces to make the process easier.

  He had a cup of coffee and waited. 10:30AM rolled around, and passed. He waited until 11:30AM and was getting annoyed. He was about to get up and leave when Alfonse stopped in the door. He was a short, thick man. His neck seemed to merge directly into his bullet head which was bald, shiny, and polished. His eyelids and earlobes and lips were thick.

  Morgan waved. “Alfonse!”

  “Morgan!” he smiled broadly. “What a long flight… thank you for waiting.”

  Morgan waved it off, “No problem at all. Do you have any bags?’

  “Just this one. I travel light.” He had a wheeled carry on.

  “Shall we?” Morgan started walking back toward the car.

  “Let’s go. I am eager to see the coin.” Alfonse said.

  “Oh, here…” Morgan dug the coin out of his pocket and handed it over.

  Alfonse hefted it in his hand and pulled out an eye loop. He broke into a broad smile, then laughed for nearly a minute. Morgan smiled back but furrowed his brow. He said, “Morgan, you have a good eye. Can I ask how old you are?”

  “Seventeen… I’ll be 18 in June.”

  Alfonse laughed again. “Oh, to be 17 again! Your research on this was really good.”

  He handed the coin back. They walked out to the truck and started on the way back to the Wells farm.

  “Forgive me, Morgan, but I need to sleep before we do business. I can never fall asleep on an airplane, but this seat is very comfortable.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Keith got back to the apartment, school was out, and the girls were at the condo.

  “Tracy, I talked to your Uncle today, and, I admit this was a surprise, he asked me to take you girls to the firing range to teach you some basics.”

  Tracy blushed, she was a little embarrassed about her weird family. “Yeah, we talked about it… well texted today.”

  He asked Chloe, “You up for it?”

  “Hell yeah!” she said. “It’s been a long time since we did any shooting.”

  Tracy put up both of her hands then slapped her knees and stood up. “Mr. Marte, um, well. I don’t know how much Uncle Robbie explained, so maybe I should.”

  “I’m glad you brought that up… It was a surprising request.” He had been mulling over how to broach the subject all day.<
br />
  “Well, my house has a lot of valuable and rare things. My Uncle’s been worrying that someone is watching the place. That’s why I’m here… and probably why he wants me to learn gun stuff.”

  “That’s prudent. I’m glad you’re here. Let’s go shootin’!”

  They drove to the range where Keith practiced. It was outside, at a large field with a two story earthen backstop.

  Tracy said, “It’s not like TV. Where’s the rope thingie that hangs the target?”

  Keith said, “We have to hang it.”

  Tracy asked, “Isn’t it bad to walk in front of the guns?”

  Keith nodded, “Yes and that’s rule #1. Chloe?”

  Chloe recited, “Don’t point the gun at something unless you plan to kill it.”

  Keith said, “Even if you’re absolutely 100% sure the gun is not loaded, assume it is loaded. Never point a gun down range unless we’re all clear.”

  Tracy said, “Makes perfect sense.”

  He went over the parts of the gun and how it worked. He had the girls load up several clips. He took a pair of pliers and pulled the bullet out of the casing and poured the grains out in Tracy’s hand.

  “Charcoal, saltpeter, and sulfur combined in the correct ratio. Very plain ingredients.”

  “Saltpeter’s from bat shit.” Chloe said and laughed.

  “Hey! You stole my line!” Keith said.

  Tracy flicked the gunpowder onto the ground and made a mock “yuck” face.

  “You ready?” Keith asked. Tracy nodded. “Eyes and ears.” he said. They donned their safety glasses and earplugs. He demonstrated. “Here’s how I learned. Hold the gun comfortably in your dominant hand. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re going to shoot. Safety off. Support the gun with your other hand cupped like this. When you’re ready to shoot, use your fingertip to pull the trigger until you’re surprised by…” BANG.

  He explained how to sight the target and handed the gun to Tracy.

  ”Wow, it’s heavy!” she said. She pointed the gun and squeezed the trigger. She shot. “Woooooo!” she smiled and laughed in spite of her previous anxiety.

  “Hey, you hit the target!” Chloe said. “Off center, but for the first shot, that was excellent!”

  Keith said, “I think you jerked the trigger a bit… It’s tough, but try not to anticipate the shot.”

  She breathed out and tried it again. BANG. It hit in the circle.

  Chloe said, “nice shot!” and clapped. “Try a couple.”

  BANG BANG. One hit, and the second was off.

  Keith said, “That’s much harder, right? So if you need accuracy, then aim, shoot, aim shoot.”

  Tracy went through the rest of the clip methodically and hit the target each time.

  “Wow!” Tracy said. “That is surprisingly fun. I never knew…”

  “Your turn, girlie.” Keith told Chloe. “Don’t show off!”

  Chloe loaded her clip and took aim. She stood like a samurai holding a sword. She methodically went through the clip and put each shot near the middle of the target.

  “Holy shit!” Tracy laughed. “What are you, girl?!”

  Chloe smiled and shrugged. “Just a natural.”

  Keith had them run through a few more clips, then had them shoot from a knee. By the end, Tracy had improved significantly.

  “OK. I’m exhausted!” Tracy said, finally.”It’s fun, but stressful.”

  “That’s a good description.” Keith said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Morgan and Alfonse got back to the farm. Alfonse woke up as the truck turned onto the gravel driveway.

  “Here we are!” Morgan said.

  “Oh goodness. I slept! Apologies for being such bad company.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Saves me from apologizing for my driving.”

  Alfonse rolled the window down. “Country air! And what a wonderful place. Is this yours?”

  Morgan laughed, “oh no! I’m a friend of the family that lives here.”

  They passed the Flying Fox and Morgan parked on the driveway.

  Robbie came out to greet them. “You made it! I kept my phone with me all day!”

  Morgan said, “it actually wasn’t that bad.”

  Robbie shook Alfonse’s hand, “I’m Robbie Wells. You’re from Italia?”

  “Si, yes, from Milano. The landscape in the countryside there is much like this…” he gestured around. “Beautiful.”

  “You must be exhausted. I’ve got a room here for you if you need it.” Robbie said.

  “I am very much obliged.”

  They walked inside. Alfonse eyed all the tchotchkes in the house looking for any treasures, but nothing was as extraordinary as the coin. Robbie showed him to a room. “We’ll be down in the library whenever you’re ready. Make yourself at home.”

  When Alfonse entered the library, his mouth gaped. “Oh my! Amazing. Do you mind?”

  “Please do.” Robbie answered. Alfonse wandered the shelves.

  “This is an amazing collection… truly a one of a kind.” Alfonse announced, beaming. He’d changed into comfortable clothes, a burly white fisherman’s sweater, comfortable pants and moccasins.

  “Morgan, can I see the coin again? I will tell you all about it. I feel this audience can appreciate the story.”

  Morgan handed him the coin. He took it out of the case and put it on the table. He took two other coins from his pocket. One was a large silver dollar sized coin. He put it on the table. The other was a gold coin that looked about the same size as Morgan’s, he put it down next to Morgan’s.

  “There is a fascinating story behind your coin. I can explain it with these two pieces.” he pointed at the two coins he brought. “This silver one started as an American silver Peace Dollar, but it was hand carved to this. The general term is ‘hobo nickel’. It’s a piece of folk art. This is an exquisite example. Collecting these is a personal hobby.”

  Morgan picked it up. It had once been a 1927 Peace Dollar, but someone had carved the profile of Lady Liberty into a garish skull and neck bones. They cut stylized flame shapes into the background.

  “So, my theory, is someone hand carved this,” he pointed at his gold coin, “to this.” he pointed at Morgan’s. “My coin is a commemorative coin from Firenze, produced the same year as Morgan’s, 1462. You see the FRNZ marking and date is all that remains from the original. That year was the establishment of a new academy--like Plato’s Academy--in Firenze. Really, that’s the start of the modern world.”

  Morgan picked up Alfonse’s gold coin. It showed a man’s profile on the face side and six bumps on a shield on the other side.

  Morgan nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Very cool… But what does it mean?”

  Alfonse held up a finger, “On my coin, it is Cosimo de Medici. Do you know who is pictured on yours? This is Diogenes--in his famous barrel.” he traced his finger around the raised edge.

  “Barrel?”

  “Yes, the philosopher Diogenes is famous for stripping his life to its simple essence, really mocking the rest of us for our ties to materialism and to constructs like the city state. He lived in a barrel.” Alfonse took out his phone and brought up one of many paintings showing Diogenes sitting in his wine barrel.

  He flipped the coin over, “and this, a dog! And the famous saying… remarkable. Of course, it refers to the Cynics--his school of philosophy, sort of mocking Plato.”

  Morgan asked, “So, why would someone carve up a coin like that?”

  Alfonse’s face brightened. “This is the truly exciting and interesting part. As you may know the Renaissance ‘started’ when Greek scholars fled Constantinople for Italy. They brought Greek thought--and many other ideas--to Europe. This ignited the fire that burned away the medieval order.”

  “These two coins are artefacts from that era… One from the Medici, a token, a touch piece that indicated membership in a very select circle of philosophers, artists, and intellectuals. One carved up as a sort of p
rotest… a breakaway group!”

  “Rebels?” Morgan asked.

  “Precisely.” Alfonse said.

  Robbie asked, “What do you know about these ‘Rebels’?”

  Alfonse said, “oh unfortunately not much. In histories, there are only glimpses.”

  Robbie stood up and went to one of the shelves and pulled a couple of volumes from the shelf. He put them on the table. Alfonse picked them up and thumbed through some pages. He smiled and tapped the cover.

  “Wow…” he laughed. “I’ll leave it at that for now.”

  Morgan asked, “So, how much do you think it’s worth?”

  Alfonse shrugged, “Wellll. Let me give you an example. Think of stonehenge… can you picture it?”

  Morgan nodded, “Sure.”