by Thomas Scott
“What do you mean? Was something wrong?”
“No, mon. In fact, I don’t tink I’ve ever seen her so excited.”
Virgil thought about it for a minute. “Huh. Did they say where they were going?”
They both laughed at him, then Robert said, “They were looking for you, mon. They’re on their way to your house right now.”
Virgil stopped at the store on his way home to get everything Huma had put on the list, plus a few items he needed for himself. He had to stop at two different places before he found the right diapers, then got caught up looking at a contraption called a Diaper Genie. Huma had it on the list, but Virgil didn’t think it was necessary. He was about to put it back when a cute young female store employee who was passing by pointed at it and said, “Have one yet?”
Virgil put it back on the shelf. “No. Not going to get one either. Looks to me like it’s nothing more than a fancy trash can for dirty diapers.”
She laughed at him and walked away. A few minutes later as Virgil was standing in the checkout lane he realized his cashier was the same young woman who’d just advised him about the Judy Jetson dirty diaper disposal unit. He’d already forgotten what it was called.
She scanned all his items and instead of telling him the total amount due, said, “I’d re-think the Genie, I were you,” she said. “It’s the last one we have.”
He wanted to ask her if she was on commission. Instead, he said, “What’s the big deal? Why not just toss them in the trash?”
“Because your whole house will smell like baby poop, that’s why. With the Genie…problem solved. Trust me. I’ve got three kids.”
Virgil thanked her for no other reason than to shut her up. He paid, stuffed everything into the truck and headed home. People needed to mind their own business once in a while, he thought. Nannies, Diaper Genies, doulas, baby monitors, electric swings…the whole world was going soft. Although he thought the nanny was a good idea, mostly because it had been his.
When he walked in the back door the smell hit him like a Mack truck. “Dear God, what the hell is that?”
“That’s Wyatt’s business,” Jonas shouted. He was jumping up and down on the sofa.
“Don’t do that,” Virgil said. “You’ll ruin the furniture.”
Sandy shot him a look. It was one that Virgil knew well. “I mean, be careful buddy. Not too high.”
Huma took the bags from him, “This is what your house is going to smell like for the next two or three years if you didn’t get everything I had on that list, which, it appears you did not.”
“I thought it was a waste of money.” Virgil walked over to the trash can. “How about I just take the trash out? That should help.” He removed the lid from the kitchen trash and the smell slapped him again. The can was empty except for one diaper.
“I already did,” Huma said. “By the way, you’re low on trash bags.”
Virgil looked across the kitchen counter and saw Murton and Becky sitting in the living room across from Sandy. Becky was holding Wyatt and making funny faces at him. Murton was listening to the exchange between Virgil and Huma, shaking his head and smiling at the same time. He stood up and made his way into the kitchen.
“Didn’t get the Genie, huh?”
Virgil puffed out his cheeks and shrugged his shoulders. “I thought—”
Murton cut him off. “I know, I heard. You thought it was a waste of money. What do you think now? Come on, let’s make a run back to the store. We’ll get the genie…my treat. Besides, we’ve got something to talk about.”
“Hey, where are you two going,” Becky said. “Murt, we’ve got to tell them!”
Virgil and Sandy looked at each other. “Tell us what?” Virgil said.
Sandy had a look of satisfaction on her face, like she already knew what they were going to say.
“It’ll keep,” Murton said to everyone. Then to Becky: “Not a peep until we get back.”
“Murt—”
“I mean it Becks. Not one single word.”
Sandy waved them out the door. “Go ahead and go. Besides, I’m pretty sure I already know anyway.”
But she didn’t. She had no idea.
Virgil and Murton went back to the store, grabbed the genie, and to Virgil’s dismay the only open checkout line was the same one he’d gone through less than an hour ago. The cashier, trying to be polite, was sucking on her cheeks to hold back her laughter. Her eyes were watering with the effort. Murton, nobody’s idiot, put the whole plot together in a matter of seconds. He looked at Jonesy, then the young lady behind the cash register. “You tried to tell him, didn’t you?”
She nodded, her hand over her mouth. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore and the laughter burst out. Virgil just stared straight ahead at a spot about six inches in front of his face.
“How was it?” she asked Murton.
“Like a bomb went off.”
She nodded. “I tried to tell him…”
Murton waved her down. “Oh, I believe you. The other day, at the hospital, he tried to park in the valet lot—”
“Can we go now, please?” Virgil said.
Murton turned, tipped his head sideways and looked at Virgil, who in turn, refused to look back.
“I’ll wait in the truck,” Virgil said. “Don’t forget who drove you here.” He walked outside.
“Is he okay?” the cashier asked.
“No, but he’s about to be. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
The cashier had no idea what that meant, so she let it go. “You want the extended warranty? It’s an extra fifteen bucks.”
Murton didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
Back in the truck: “Have you ever noticed that I often end up as the butt of your jokes?”
Murton looked over at him. “Have you ever noticed that you set yourself up perfectly for those very same jokes?”
Virgil finally laughed. “I guess so. My god, that smell. He’s a baby, for Christ’s sake. He should be clean as a whistle. Instead it smells like he’s been drinking beer and eating boiled eggs and bean soup. It’s absolutely toxic.”
Murton picked up the box the genie came in and shook it. “Well, problem solved. I got the extended warranty, by the way. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks.”
They rode in silence for a few miles. Virgil knew Murton would come out with it only when he was ready. They were almost all the way back to Virgil’s place before he said anything.
“There’s something I need to tell you…about Decker and Gordon.”
“What’s there to tell? You took Decker off the board. The guy almost cost me my wife and son. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”
“Don’t ever thank me for killing someone, Jonesy. I did it because it had to be done.”
“Ah, come on, Murt, you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. I also think it might have been a mistake.”
Virgil took his eyes off the road for a second and looked at Murton.
“Watch the road, will you?”
Virgil pulled off to the side of the road and put the truck in park. “Why do you think it was a mistake?”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
“So tell me.”
Murton stared out the side window for a few minutes. Virgil let him. When he spoke, his voice sounded hollow and distant, like they were talking on an overseas call. “Gibson was there.”
“Paul Gibson? With the FBI?”
“Yup. I was just about to drop the hammer on Decker when Gibson walked in. He’s not with the FBI anymore, either. He’s with Homeland now.”
Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Huh. Well, good for him.”
“Yeah, good for him. Maybe not so good for me.”
Virgil thought about it for a minute, then realized the implications of Gibson’s presence. “He was either tracking Decker or you.”
“That’s right. And he never was very clear about that. Either way, he said he want
ed to have a conversation with me.”
“Listen, this just occurred to me, but you never told me what you did with Decker’s body.”
“That’s because I didn’t do anything with it.”
“What?”
Murton spent the next few minutes telling Virgil how everything happened, including the cleaners and the fact that the governor was there. Virgil felt his jaw hanging open. He had to force himself to keep his mouth closed.
“You’re telling me that Mac was sitting outside in a limo waiting to talk to you while you were inside…”
Murton nodded. “Yeah…killing Decker. Gibson’s boys took the body and Mac said let’s go for a drive, so that’s what we did.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere. We just drove around and talked, then they dropped me at my car and I went home.”
Virgil was getting impatient. “What did they want, Murt?”
“Decker was nobody. He simply did whatever Gordon told him to do. Gordon was the one pushing to have Mac hung from a meat hook. Now Gordon’s dead. Westlake too.”
“I know all that.”
“Just let me get to it in my own way, will you? The fracking in Shelby County was backed by the Russians. It wasn’t BP or Exxon Mobile or anything like that. It was the Russians, Jonesy.”
“All of this from Gibson?”
“Yes. And he’s as honest as they come. He might skirt the edges every once in a while to get things done, but he’s a patriot through and through.”
Virgil thought about it. “I guess I’m not seeing the bigger picture, because the guy who wanted Mac run out of office—the same guy who was in bed with the Russians—is dead, and the fracking operations have been halted.”
“You’re not seeing the bigger picture because you don’t have all the facts yet. According to Gibson, the Russians have bigger plans. Gibson’s got intel that puts them behind the theft of nuclear material that was supposed to be shipped to hospitals all over the state.”
“Why are we just now hearing about this, and not to put too fine a point on it, but isn’t this a little outside the scope of what we do?”
“We’re just now hearing about it because that’s the way the federal government works. They keep their mouth shut until they need something. As for the ‘what we do’ part of your question, normally I’d agree, but in this case I don’t. That’s why Mac wanted to talk to me.” Murton reached into his coat pocket, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Virgil.
“What’s this?”
“Homeland found it at Gordon’s house. The federal government needs something. Open it up.”
Virgil opened the envelope and shook out the contents. There were only two items. One was a small piece of paper, similar to a post-it note. On it was an address for someplace in Louisville, Kentucky. The address meant nothing to Virgil, and he said so.
“Me either,” Murton said. “But take a look at the photo.”
The photograph was the other item in the envelope. It was a black and white, slightly blurry, and taken from a distance. The picture was that of a man standing next to a locomotive in a train yard.
“That photo was taken less than a month ago. You know who it is?”
Virgil had an idea, but found himself unable to say it out loud.
“Yeah. I felt the same way. That’s my old man, Ralph Wheeler. So here’s the question: Why did Kreg Gordon, a guy who was mixed up with the Russians and missing nuclear material have information on my father? You know what else is interesting? There’s a rail line that runs directly from Louisville to Indy.”
“What the hell, Murt?”
Murton nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” Then, as if the conversation had never happened, Murton smiled and clapped Virgil on the back. “Come on. One thing at a time. We need to get back to your place. Becky’s got something to tell you and Small.” He looked at the box that held the genie. “I wonder if this thing will hold adult diapers?” Then he laughed like he didn’t have a care in the world. “You’re probably going to need them. Let’s go.”
39
They walked in the back door and even though Virgil didn’t think it was possible, the smell was worse than before. Huma grabbed the box from Murton and began assembling the contraption that would hopefully restore some olfactory stability to the interior of the Jones residence. Virgil pulled Murton aside. “Listen, really quick, do you have any idea what a doula is…or does?”
Murton glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah, of course. Huma’s a doula. Becky told me. I thought you knew.”
Virgil shook his head. He felt like a dope. “Never mind.”
They went into the living room and sat down, Murton next to Becky, and Virgil next to Sandy. Wyatt was sleeping peacefully in the bassinet next to the sofa and Jonas was in the other room crashing toy trucks together and making explosive noises.
“So what’s this big news?” Virgil said. “You guys getting married or something?”
Becky frowned at him. “No, we’re not. But your comment would have been a great way to take the fun out of telling you.”
Sandy punched him in the shoulder. “She’s right.”
Virgil held up his hands. “Okay. Sorry, sorry. Let’s hear it.”
Becky reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of papers. Murton was so excited he was rocking back and forth on the sofa. He didn’t even realize it.
Becky looked at Virgil. “Do you remember the conversation we had just before the governor held his press conference?”
Virgil thought about it. “Yeah, basically. I thought there must have been a connection between Charlie and Martha Esser and Pam Donatti. It was right after you told me that Decker—” Virgil stopped himself to make sure Jonas was out of earshot. He was. “Right after you told me that Decker was Jonas’s father.”
Becky nodded. “That’s right. But I never found the connection because I wasn’t looking at it the right way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was looking for a criminal component. Something that would tie the three murders together. But Vernon Conrad killed Charlie Esser, and after Murt took care of Decker I sort of let the whole thing go because I thought it didn’t matter anymore.”
“It really didn’t,” Virgil agreed. “There won’t be a trial, and the guilty party is dead.”
“Right. But do you remember what else I said during that conversation before the press conference?”
Virgil thought some more. “Well, I remember you were worried about Murt. But that’s all been taken care of too.”
She shook her head. “Not that. I said Cora had me looking at something. She wanted to cover Mac’s butt with that little stunt he pulled at the press conference…about Martha Esser still being alive. They wanted me to be absolutely certain that there were no Esser heirs because Mac and the state could get sued for saying something that they knew to be absolutely false.”
“Right,” Virgil said. “And they don’t. Have any heirs, that is.”
Becky smiled at him. Murton winked at Sandy.
“Except they did. I dug a little deeper than I normally would have and found something. Charlie Esser married into his land and fortune. The land from all those generations ago came from Martha’s side of the family.”
“So what?”
“I’ll give you so what, mister,” Becky said. “Martha Esser had a half-sister. She died about ten years ago. Her name was Annabelle Mumloe.”
Sandy’s eyes got wide and she brought her hands up and covered her mouth. “Oh my God.” She started vibrating. Virgil could feel it.
Virgil looked at her, then back to Becky and Murton. “I don’t get it. Who’s Annabelle Mumloe?”
“I just told you, Jonesy. She was Martha’s half sister.”
“But I don’t understand—”
Sandy looked at Becky, who nodded at her…an indication to tell the rest of it. When she tried to speak she could barely get the words out. “Virgil, Mumloe was Pam Donatti’s ma
iden name. Annabelle Mumloe was her mother.”
Virgil stood up then sat right back down. “You mean that Jonas is…”
Murton nodded. “That’s right, Jones-man. And you guys just adopted him. That means you are now the proud owners of over two thousand acres of farmland down in Shelby County.” He reached into Becky’s purse, pulled out a piece of straw and stuck it in his mouth. “Virgil Jones. Even sounds like a farmer’s name, doesn’t it?” He stood up and walked bow-legged around the room.
“He’s been waiting all day to do that,” Becky said. “We had to stop at Hobby Lobby to buy a single piece of straw.”
Sandy looked at her husband. “Oh-My-God. Virgil…we’re rich!”
It took a minute for it to all sink in for Virgil. Becky showed him all the documentation and before he knew it they were all dancing around and laughing like they’d just won the lottery, which, essentially they had. Huma was listening from the kitchen.
She walked over, looked at Virgil and said, “It suddenly occurred to me that we hadn’t actually agreed on my salary…or benefits.”
All the noise woke Wyatt and he began to cry. Huma picked him up and snuggled him. Then she patted Virgil on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry…we’ll work something out, I’m sure. Whew, someone needs their diaper changed.”
Murton popped the tops on two bottles of champagne he’d brought along, one a non-alcoholic version for Sandy because she was breast feeding, and they toasted their future which looked brighter than ever. The rest of the evening was a roller coaster. One minute they would all be speaking calmly and rationally about what it all meant, then, what it all meant would sink in all over again and they’d get up and hug each other and dance around like a bunch of kids. They were making so much noise that Huma—who was trying to get Wyatt to bed—told them they had to quiet down or take it outside. Quieting down didn’t seem possible, so they took it outside.
Epilogue
