by Beth Flynn
Taking another bite of his sandwich, he washed it down with some soda pop. He was running low. He hoped a guest would be stopping by soon, maybe someone he could hitch a ride from to go get groceries. He’d take a taxi back if he had to. He’d done it once and it didn’t cost too much.
The table next to the television caught his eye. Pop’s dogs, Jack and Sandy. Their images were protected forever in those frames. He’d wished he’d thought to put Ruthie and Razor’s picture in a frame, but he’d preferred having it with him, so he could pull it out when he needed to. He hated himself for being so careless with that photo.
What was the last dog’s name? The one Pop didn’t have a picture of? He couldn’t think of it. He just remembered the dog had died recently because the grave was obviously newer than the others. He sat back and gazed at the blank television again. He didn’t have time to think about Pop’s dogs. He had to think like a mastermind. Like the ones he saw on TV. Especially that spy guy. If Pop got his hands on that money, what would he have done with it?
There wasn’t much else to do at the motel other than general maintenance. He didn’t have to wait on Pop hand and foot anymore, so his days weren’t as busy. Some days, he pretended he was someone important, like Red. He could be like Red. Like one of those guys on TV. Was Red undercover? He must’ve been. The person on the other end of the phone called him “agent.”
Lost in a fantasy of beautiful women and fast cars, he suddenly sat straight up on the couch and dropped his soda bottle, the liquid fizzing out on the carpet floor.
He knew where the money was.
By the time he lugged the bag back to the motel, he was panting and filthy. The bag was big and heavy, and it was right where he’d thought. The dog’s grave. Only there was no dog.
He couldn’t imagine how Pop, in his frail condition, had ever gotten it out there and buried it. As he was digging, he started having doubts. A stab of conscience told him he’d feel awful if he was digging up Pop’s dog. Benny. He remembered the name now. That was the last dog that Pop didn’t have a picture of. Pop had told him he had a frame for it and everything, but never got around to having a picture taken to put in the frame.
Except when he’d searched the motel from top to bottom looking for the hidden bag, he’d never run across an empty frame. Pop must’ve lied about it. Still, it could’ve been true. The frame could’ve been broken and thrown away. The frame would’ve been a reminder of the picture that was never taken and maybe Pop had tossed it. Ralph didn’t think so.
And he was right.
Now, he spread an old motel sheet across the bed and heaved the heavy bag up on to it. He unzipped it and his breath caught as he gazed upon its contents. There was more money in this bag than he’d ever imagined existed, even in a bank vault. He picked up a neatly bound stack of bills and fanned them.
Then he remembered something. The man on the phone that night said he didn’t care about the money. He wanted the bag. Why would he want a crummy old army bag? There must be something else here.
He climbed up on the bed and managed to grab the bag by the bottom, heaving it upside down on the sheet. The money spilled out, some even sliding off the bed and hitting the floor. He shook the bag, making sure it was empty. He didn’t see anything fall out with the money. But the bag still felt a little heavy. He jumped down off the bed and stuck his arms in the bag, feeling around. His elbow made contact with something hard and he realized something had been sewn into the lining of the bag.
Quickly, he retrieved a knife from the kitchen and carefully slit open the interior. He reached in and pulled out two heavy metal plates of some kind. He laid them on the bed and knew immediately what he was looking at. This money was counterfeit and these were the plates that were used to make it. Big deal.
He was disappointed. What was he going to do with a bunch of fake money? He couldn’t spend it because he’d probably get caught. It would be traced back to the motel and then they’d start looking for Pop. Dammit.
Maybe he should get a phone number for The Red Crab and call Red. Tell him to come get his fake money. He felt totally deflated now; the excitement of seeking and the anticipation of finding the bag was gone. He’d never realized how good the hunt had made him feel. He couldn’t explain it; he got a thrill from pretending he was some kind of agent, like Red. Looking for something more important than a big bag of money.
That’s what the man had said. He didn’t care about the money. Who didn’t care about money? He’d remembered how important money was when he was roaming Fort Lauderdale and eating out of garbage cans.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wondering what he should do, when something caught his attention. He squinted, looking closer. His eyes weren’t lying—something brown was sticking out of the seam he’d ripped when he’d found the plates. Reaching in, he removed a large, oversized envelope. He opened the envelope and pulled out its contents. Some pictures fell out onto his lap. He quickly scanned them, and since he didn’t recognize any faces or the names on the back, he turned to the papers he was holding. It was a large document, several pages long. He started to read.
He was young and didn’t have a lot of education. But he was smart enough to know what he was reading was important. More important than a bag of counterfeit money. Some names he recognized. Others he didn’t. There were specific dates, places, and events. Was he reading this correctly? How could this be?
This was big; he knew it. This kind of information could destroy people. Destroy lives. Maybe it already had.
Pop must have killed the bag’s owner. The insurance salesman. He obviously wasn’t an insurance salesman. Was he an agent like Red?
He didn’t know the extent of what he had read, but he thought he knew someone who might.
Over the next week, he did what was necessary to close the motel. He burned the counterfeit money in the pit—that’s what he named the spot where Red and his guys started the fire that first night. He hid the plates and envelope somewhere he was certain they’d never be found. He would relocate them later, but he would need time to plan that. He rummaged up some old chain and crafted a sign that said “closed for renovation,” draping it across the motel entrance. He drained the pool and called the telephone company to cancel the phone. He did the same with the water and power companies. He didn’t have to worry about the gas pumps. Pop had told him they hadn’t been used in years.
He’d already gone through Pop’s personal papers. Pop’s real name was Gainy J. Talbot. He took Pop’s checkbook and some tax documents he might need in the future, plus the deed to the motel and the title to Pop’s car. He’d leave the car here. He burned all of Pop’s other personal belongings, including some old army pictures and discharge papers. He paused when he came across a document he hadn’t noticed before.
It was a birth certificate. The birth date wasn’t close to his—Pop’s son was older than him—but it would still work. He would save this.
Jason William Talbot was as good a name as any. Besides, he hated the name Ralph.
He packed up everything he could carry and started walking toward the city. He was going to take Red up on that job offer.
Chapter Forty-Three
2000
Casey found Ginny asleep in the garage. She gently woke her up and guided her back to the house.
“You should go lock up,” Casey told Carter, nodding in the direction of the garage. She turned to Ginny. “We saved you a plate.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Ginny’s voice was weary as she padded across the kitchen and made her way to her room. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
But ten minutes later, Ginny came out of the bedroom with her nightshirt on. She found her friends in the kitchen at the stove, talking quietly.
“I want to go to sleep, but I think my little nap just gave me some unwanted energy.” Ginny gave a half-smile and her friends turned to embrace her.
“I thought that might happen,” Carter answered soo
thingly. “That’s why I’m making some herbal tea. It should relax you.”
“I hope so. I can’t stand the thought of being up all night alone with my thoughts.”
Carter and Casey exchanged a knowing glance. “Wait for me in the den,” Carter said. “I’ll bring it in.”
Casey and Ginny went into the den and settled themselves into their favorite spots. Carter showed up a minute later with a tray holding three mugs. Steam rose from each one. They sipped their tea in comfortable silence. Finally, Ginny let out a loud yawn.
“Gee, guess I’m more tired than I thought.” She looked at her friends’ expressions and a memory shook her from twenty-five years ago. A memory just like this. Except this time, she was grateful. This time, an adrenaline high didn’t kick in.
She looked at Carter and then at Casey, her words slurring. “You drugged me. I think I should say thank you.”
**********
Ginny was dreaming. She was in Grizz’s arms. He was holding her. She had her back to him and one of his heavy arms was draped around her waist.
But something was wrong. It was Grizz’s arm, but it wasn’t Grizz. A familiar scent invaded her senses, brought her out of her deep sleep. Tommy? Why did Grizz smell like Tommy?
She opened her eyes and needed a minute to get her bearings. Carter’s guest room. She was in one of Carter’s guest rooms. It was the room she had set up to be a nursery for Mimi.
She looked down at the arm wrapped around her. She could see the tattoo clearly. The dangling ribbons that said “Mimi” and “Jason”. She knew they were connected to an eagle holding up a heart between its wings. A heart with her name in it.
Tommy. Tommy was in bed with her and holding her.
She turned slightly and saw he was awake. Before she could ask, he murmured, “It wasn’t my idea. It was Carter and Casey.”
She turned now to face him, filled with unspoken questions.
“They called me last night and told me what they did,” Tommy explained quietly. “They knew your power nap in the garage would keep you up all night. You were asleep on the couch when I got here. They went to our house to watch Jason and Mimi. I’m sure the kids will be thrilled to have them there and won’t even ask about us. I carried you in from the couch.”
She didn’t know what to say. She just stared at him, a small smile playing on her lips. He breathed a sigh of relief.
But then her smile faded as she remembered the reason she was at Carter’s in the first place.
Her lips pressed together in a thin line. “Coffee,” was all she said.
Tommy nodded in agreement. “Uh, they told me you would know what to do with the animals.”
“Yeah, I know what to do. I can’t believe Victor didn’t wake us up at sunrise.”
“You mean the rooster?”
“Yeah, he crows like clockwork.” She started to get up in a panic. “Oh no, what if something is wrong with him!”
“Don’t worry, Ginny. He’s okay. He crowed this morning. You just slept through it.”
“And you’ve been awake ever since?”
He didn’t answer her. “Your eyes.” He peered at her in concern. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
She felt her face, knew they were puffy and raw. “I guess it’s from all the crying.”
He nodded in understanding. “How about I start the coffee, you get a shower, and then we’ll take care of Carter’s zoo. Together.”
“Okay.” She didn’t say anything else, but he knew what she was thinking.
“When everybody is settled and happy and fed, we’ll talk.”
“Yes, we’ll talk. I think you have a lot to tell me.”
“Yeah, Ginny.” His face was serious, sad. “I have a lot to tell you.”
He’d wanted to have this conversation in their home, but he wouldn’t be able to. This was better than nothing.
A few hours later, chores done, Tommy and Ginny were sitting on the back porch, curled into Adirondack chairs. Ginny was sipping a cold iced tea and Tommy was drinking a big glass of water.
“Where do I even start?” he asked, looking over at his wife. She was wearing denim shorts, a tank top, and cowboy boots. Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head. They had chatted some while they worked together getting the animals fed and exercised. They cleaned out the horses’ stalls and used the scooper to clean up where the dogs were allowed to roam in the yard. Tommy hosed down the dog kennels while Ginny administered medicines and vitamins to the different animals. Carter had more dogs than any other animals she fostered and had been very involved in helping to spearhead a prison program, where she and her colleagues went into the penitentiaries and taught some of the most undesirable convicts how to train abused and abandoned canines to be used as service dogs. It was an excellent program where man and beast alike were given a second chance at life through rehabilitation. Ginny and Tommy spent almost a full two hours caring for and playing with the dogs. Carter’s animal sanctuary required a lot of work. It was hard work, but physically and mentally fulfilling.
Ginny wrapped her arms around her knees. “It wasn’t Blue who killed your sister and her husband that night when you were a kid, was it?”
“Before I start, Ginny, you need to know I had a good talk with Grizz before his execution. I was going to tell you everything. When Leslie hinted there was something I wasn’t telling you, it made it look like I was being forced to come clean. Ginny, I was going to do that anyway. I hope you believe that.” His expression was sincere. She wanted to believe him.
But something held her back. Ginny realized she wasn’t sure if she knew the real Tommy at all. If she’d ever known the real Tommy. She tried to think back over their fifteen-year marriage, but her mind was cluttered and she certainly wasn’t going to give too much credence to a facial expression that she’d seen countless times before.
“Please just answer my question,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t Blue, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t Blue.”
Then he told her everything: the night Grizz came for him. Moving to the motel. Meeting the gang. His early life there.
“So Moe’s gang name was Misty?” she interrupted. “I never once thought about where the nickname Moe came from.”
“Yeah, she used to be Misty.” He continued with his story.
When he got to the part about Curtis Armstrong, she sat straight up in her chair. “You were there? You saw me dump my lemonade on him?”
Yes, he was there. He was there for a lot of it. There when Mavis approached Grizz about getting some bras. There on the school field trip.
“Mavis?” she interrupted. “You knew Mavis?”
“Yes, Ginny. I knew Mavis. She worked for Grizz. She kept an eye out for you and let Grizz know if you needed anything. You must remember when the food showed up on your doorstep. Or the bicycle you probably thought the neighbors left for you? That was all because of Mavis.”
“I haven’t thought about Mavis in years,” she told Tommy, her face softening. “I stopped running into her after I started going to middle school. I wonder what ever happened to her?”
“She died peacefully in her sleep. She didn’t show up at The Red Crab for work one day. Mavis was the most punctual and reliable human being on the planet. Some of the regulars were really fond of her. One of the girls, I think it may even have been Chicky, went to her house after not getting an answer on the phone. She found her in her bed.”
Ginny’s eyes filled with tears. “She was so nice to me.” A laugh escaped suddenly. “She really hated that Curtis Armstrong, though. She never allowed herself to stoop to his level, but she defended all the kids he bullied back then. Not just me.”
“She used to say the same thing about you and all your causes. That you were the champion of the little guy.” Tommy smiled at her. Then he added, “It’s her chess set, by the way. The one I taught you to play on. The one that sits in our bedroom. That chess set belonged to Mavis and her husband. She’s the one
who suggested I learn to play.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t know why, but she was moved by the fact that she’d had a secret guardian angel all those years ago. Mavis. Impatiently, she brushed the tears away. She didn’t want to start crying again. She wanted, needed, to be strong. She took a gulp of air and changed the subject.
“I knew Chicky was in love with Grizz, you know.” Ginny felt a rush of sadness for the woman. “She told me that the day she came to spend with me at the beach over on the west coast. I never knew how she’d come into contact with Grizz, though. She told me she’d finally set her sights on Fess. I guess she never made any headway there. Of course, I’m sure Sarah Jo would’ve mentioned it if she had.”
Sarah Jo never really talked about her father. Fess had retired to Maine years ago.
“Maybe that’s why she ended up in South Carolina,” Ginny pondered.
“Yeah. I can imagine her running her own bar in South Carolina. Chicky really was an okay lady.”
Despite the heat, Ginny shivered a moment. “Grizz told me the day he married me about the first time he saw me. Told me how he’d had me watched. I never asked him any details. I doubt he would’ve answered them anyway. I just assumed Grizz sent someone to occasionally check up on me. Maybe that neighbor, Guido. I never realized he actually planted someone in my life. I never grasped how much he’d actually done for me during those years. I wish I knew some of this before. I can honestly say I would’ve liked to have thanked him.”
She had been staring out over Carter’s expansive yard as she said this. She looked over at Tommy. “I also never realized you had been there, too. That you saw me. How could I have never noticed?”
