Hell's Nerds and Other Tales

by Stephen Lomer

Herb swallowed hard. “What was it?”

  Officer Steinway looked down at the table. “A machete.”

  Herb’s heart hammered in his chest. He heard the others let out audible sounds of disgust and horror.

  “Do you . . .” Herb started, and cleared his throat hard. “Do you have anyone in custody?”

  Steinway shook his head. “I’m afraid not. There’s very little evidence at the crime scene. And you know how remote the lake is, especially this time of year. We canvassed the area, but haven’t found any witnesses.”

  “I see,” Herb said.

  “Mister Dunkelberger,” the officer said, pulling a battered notebook and an old pen from his breast pocket, “do you know of any enemies your wife might have had? Anyone who might have reason to cause her harm?”

  Herb knew what Steinway was doing, but the question still rankled him. Kate had been the sweetest, most gentle soul he’d ever known. In all the years they’d been married, he’d never once heard her say an unkind word about anyone.

  “No,” Herb said flatly. “No one.”

  “Mister Dunkelberger . . . can you account for your own whereabouts on the night your wife and daughter were killed?”

  “Now wait just a minute!” Willie cried from behind Herb, but Herb held his hand up to indicate it was all right.

  “We were all here,” Herb said. “The four of us. Playing Dungeons & Dragons.”

  Steinway looked around the room at the four middle-aged men and seemed to be trying to picture them doing so. At last, he nodded.

  “All right then,” he said. He tucked his notebook and pen away, and then rose from the table.

  “I may have more questions for you as things develop,” Steinway said, placing his hat back on his head. “If so, I’ll be in touch. Thanks for the coffee.”

  A few weeks later, Herb sat at the gaming table in the basement, absentmindedly twirling a cast-iron figure of an elf around in his fingers. His thoughts were a million miles away, and he didn’t even hear Willie coming down the stairs.

  “Herb?” Willie said. Norbert and BooBoo were with him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Herb said absently, studying the sketched-out map of their aborted adventure. “Have a seat, guys.”

  They sat in their customary seats and waited for Herb to say something. When he spoke, there was a strength and a focus to his voice that had been missing since the night he learned about his wife and daughter. The numbing effect of the pills was gone as well.

  “I’ve been thinking about something,” Herb began.

  Norbert nodded. “Okay, good,” he said. “What have you been thinking about, Herb?”

  Herb didn’t say anything, but had locked eyes with Willie. The two men stared at each other for a while, and Norbert and BooBoo looked back and forth between them.

  “Herb wants to take a trip up to the lake house,” Willie said slowly. “Don’t you, Herb?”

  “Yes,” Herb answered. “I do.”

  “What?” Norbert asked. “Why?”

  “He wants to find the man who killed his family,” Willie said baldly.

  There was a stunned silence that met this proclamation, though Herb was nodding ever so slightly.

  “Wait. What?” BooBoo piped up.

  “I want to find the man who killed my family,” Herb repeated.

  “Herb, that’s what the police are for,” Norbert said. “That’s their job.”

  “Yeah, but they’re not doing it very well, are they?” Herb said, turning to Norbert and locking eyes with him. “It’s been over a month. I spoke to Officer Steinway this morning. There hasn’t been any progress. He says the trail has gone cold. I don’t think it’s much of a priority for them any more.”

  “So you want to go and find the killer,” Norbert said.

  “Yes,” said Herb.

  “You,” Norbert said.

  “Yes,” said Herb.

  Norbert turned to Willie. “Are you hearing what I’m hearing?” he asked. “Please tell Herb that he’s talking crazy.”

  Willie leaned forward, and the antique light over the table shone brightly on his face. “I don’t think it’s crazy at all.”

  “What?” Norbert cried out.

  “Herb’s right, the cops aren’t going to do anything,” Willie said. “And he needs closure. How’s he ever going to have it if the man who killed Kate and Emma goes free?”

  Herb nodded fully, and for the first time in weeks, even smiled a little bit.

  “Okay, hang on, hang on just a second,” Norbert pleaded. “Herb, what exactly are you planning to do if you find this man?”

  “I’m going to kill him,” Herb said.

  “Oh, okay,” Norbert said wildly, “well that makes this whole thing much more sane. I didn’t know you were planning to kill a guy, I thought you were planning some sort of citizen’s arrest. Now it all makes sense.”

  “Good,” Herb said. “So are you in?”

  “Absolutely,” Willie said, and reached across the table to shake Herb’s hand.

  “Wait a minute!” Norbert practically shrieked. “Do you realize what you’re saying? You want to track down a guy that the police—trained professionals, mind you—weren’t able to find, and then you want to commit murder!”

  Out of nowhere, BooBoo nodded. “I’m in.”

  “Am I the only sane person at this table?” Norbert shouted. “You don’t have access to the police files! You don’t even know who you’re looking for, or even where to start! Plus, you have no weapons or hand-to-hand combat training, no background in criminology, and no discernible upper-body strength! And, if all that weren’t enough, killing someone will get you a one-way ticket to prison for the rest of your life!”

  “You don’t have to come then,” Herb said softly.

  “I’m not gonna!” Norbert said, standing up. “Because it’s crazy!”

  He stormed up the stairs and slammed the basement door behind him.

  “Okay then,” Willie said. “What do we do first?”

  “First we head up to the cabin,” Herb said, “and look for clues.”

  The next morning at first light, BooBoo, Herb, and Willie loaded up into BooBoo’s van. The van was brand-new, gleaming, with all the technology and gadgets anyone could ask for, and a mural painted on the side of a spinning galaxy surrounded by hundreds of stars. No one asked BooBoo where he got it or how he could afford it, and BooBoo offered no explanation.

  The van started and was rolling down the driveway when they spotted Norbert’s car pulling up to the curb in front of the house. Norbert got out, carrying a large Thermos in his right hand, and trotted over to the van’s passenger side. Herb rolled the side door open.

  “Fine,” Norbert said without preamble. “I’m in. You lunatics are going to need someone with a clear and level head. But we have to do this right. That means we don’t go to the lake house first.”

  “We don’t?” asked Willie.

  “No,” Norbert replied. “Boo, take us to the police station.”

  The van rolled into an empty space across the street from the downtown plaza where city hall and the police station sat side by side.

  “Um,” Herb said, eyeing the imposing brick building, “is this really where we want to go, considering I’m planning to commit murder and you’ll all be accessories to murder?”

  “The murder stuff notwithstanding, yes,” Norbert replied. “We’re going to get our hands on the police report and at least know what they know.”

  “We are?” Herb asked, mystified.

  “Follow my lead,” Norbert said, sliding the van’s side door open.

  Herb fell in step behind Norbert and they made their way across the street and through the front doors of the station. The building was old and in dire need of renovation. The linoleum of the entryway had all but worn away under decades of footwear and the exposed pipes that snaked across the high ceilings were patched in places with moldy brown rags.

  The station was quiet. The only
person they saw was a tired-looking officer sitting at the front desk, sighing over piles of paperwork. Norbert and Herb approached him.

  “Good morning,” Norbert said genially.

  “How can I help you?” the officer said in a flat monotone, not looking up from his work.

  “This is Herb Dunkelberger,” Norbert said, indicating Herb. “He’s hired a private investigator to look into the deaths of his wife and daughter. He needs access to the files for the case.”

  The cop looked up and stared at Herb for a long few moments, then at Norbert. “Is that right? And who might you be?”

  “I’m his attorney,” Norbert answered.

  The officer nodded, slid sideways off his stool, and pulled open an ancient hanging file. He dug out a handful of forms, placed them on a clipboard, and handed them to Norbert.

  “Have Herb Dunkelberger fill these out,” the cop said dismissively, then returned to his work.

  “Why?” Norbert asked.

  The cop looked up again. “Why? Because that’s the way this works, Herb Dunkelberger’s attorney.”

  Norbert frowned. “How long will it take to get the files once we’re done with the paperwork?”

  “Six to eight weeks,” the cop intoned.

  “That’s a joke, right?” Norbert asked in disbelief.

  The cop looked up again, his expression completely neutral. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

  Before Norbert could reply, the front doors swung open and BooBoo walked in.

  “Hey, do either of you guys have any quarters?” he asked. “I need to feed the meter and all I have is hundreds.”

  The cop looked up at the sound of BooBoo’s voice, and to Herb and Norbert’s surprise, his face split into an enormous smile.

  “Clarence!” the cop cried, sliding once again off his stool and making his way around the counter. “Is that you?”

  Herb turned to Norbert and silently mouthed, Clarence? Norbert shrugged.

  “Officer Moody,” BooBoo said, smiling. “Been a long time.”

  “Too long!” Officer Moody said, taking BooBoo’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “How have you been?”

  “Fine, just fine,” BooBoo said. “You been taking care of my friends here?”

  Officer Moody looked from BooBoo to Herb and Norbert, and began to nod.

  “Oh sure,” Moody said. “I was just telling them they could skip all that pointless paperwork and have the files they need as soon as I can dig them out. Should only take a few minutes.”

  Moody patted BooBoo on the shoulder and disappeared into the maze of desks and file cabinets beyond his station at the front.

  “There’s . . . there’s just so much to unpack here,” Herb said, staring at BooBoo like he’d never seen him before.

  “How do you mean?” BooBoo asked innocently.

  “How do you know good Officer Moody?” Norbert asked.

  “Oh that,” BooBoo said. “I don’t remember.”

  “Imagine our surprise,” Herb muttered.

  “I think I might have introduced him to his wife. Or did I help him get into the police academy after he washed out? Or maybe he’s the one whose life I saved. Can’t recall.”

  “Okay,” Norbert said. “Sure. And, um, ‘Clarence’?”

  “What about it?”

  “Your name is Clarence?”

  “Well you didn’t think my given name was BooBoo, did you?”

  “But we’ve known you since elementary school,” Herb said. “How could it never have come up that your real name is Clarence?”

  BooBoo merely shrugged.

  A few minutes later, Officer Moody returned with a thick manila folder, which he handed to BooBoo.

  “Here you go,” he said. “Should be everything you need. Anything else, just let me know.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” BooBoo said, and once again shook Officer Moody’s hand. “Hey, we need to set another skydiving date soon, huh?”

  “Definitely,” Moody replied. “Only this time not over any active volcanoes, okay?”

  “You got it,” BooBoo said, and he waved as he, Norbert, and Herb made their way out. “Take care.”

  As they loaded back into the van, Willie asked, “So how did it go?”

  “Great. Thanks to Clarence,” Herb replied.

  “Who’s Clarence?”

  “Head for the cabin,” Herb said. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  The drive to the cabin took them up long, winding blacktop roads, cutting through swathes of lush green land where humans had yet to encroach. For the most part, the four men were silent, Norbert reading through the paperwork in the folder, the others staring out the windows at the foliage that lined the road.

  After an hour, they reached the turnoff that would take them up to the lake area.

  “Herb?” asked Willie uncertainly from the driver’s seat. Herb, who had been dozing in the passenger seat, looked up.

  A bright yellow security booth sat on the road’s edge, with an orange-and-white striped barrier stretched out from it. A young man in a dark blue uniform sat inside the booth, busily scribbling on an old clipboard.

  “What the hell is this?” Herb asked no one in particular. He hopped out of the van and angled toward the guard, while BooBoo slid the van’s side door open so they could hear.

  “Excuse me!” Herb called to the guard, waving. The young man hung his clipboard on a hook and made his way out to meet Herb.

  “Help you, sir?”

  “Yeah,” Herb said, a bit dazedly. “What is this?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “This,” Herb said, gesturing at the security checkpoint. “Since when did you need to get through security to go up to the lake?”

  “Oh,” the guard said, casting his eyes down. “Well you see, sir, there was an incident up at the lake. Two people unfortunately lost their lives. So the residents said they’d feel better if they had some idea of who was coming and going.”

  “Oh,” Herb replied. “Well that makes sense. Yeah.”

  “Anything else I can help you with, sir?”

  “Uh, yes,” Herb said. “My friends and I would like to go up to the lake.”

  “Just a sec,” the guard said, trotting over to the booth to grab the clipboard and coming back to Herb. “Name?”

  “Herb Dunkelberger.”

  The guard sifted through his paperwork and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, sir, your name’s not on the list.”

  “Why not?” asked Herb. “I’m a lakefront property owner.”

  “Have you checked in at town hall?”

  “Town hall?” Herb asked, as though he’d never heard the words before. “What does town hall have to do with this?”

  “Ah, well, all the lakeside residents need to appear at town hall to verify their identities and cross-check their names with their deeds. It’s quick and painless. Then your name’s on the list and I can let you through.”

  “Fine,” Herb said resignedly. “I don’t even know where this town’s town hall is.”

  The guard pointed down the road they’d turned off. “About three miles thataway. Old wooden building that looks like a church, you can’t miss it. They can sort all of this out for you first thing Monday morning.”

  “Monday morning?” Herb asked.

  “Yes, they’re closed on the weekends.”

  Herb felt a surge of anger. “Okay, look, just do me a favor and let us through this one time. I promise I’ll be at town hall bright and early on Monday.”

  The guard was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry sir, I can’t do that.”

  “My name is Herb Dunkelberger!” Herb shouted. “My house is 12 Sandy Circle Drive! I’ve owned the property for years!”

  The guard continued to shake his head.

  “The two people murdered up there were my wife and daughter!”

  The words rang out in the stillness. The guard’s young face looked as though it had been slapped hard.

  �
��I . . .” the guard said, and swallowed hard. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mister Dunkelberger. I am. But rules are rules and I have to follow them. Once you get your name on the list, I’ll be more than happy to let you pass. Until then, there’s nothing I can do.”

  The guard turned to walk back toward his post. A fury overcame Herb and he lunged at the young man’s back, but before he’d even taken two steps forward, he felt Norbert’s arms around his waist, pulling him back, and Willie was there, between himself and the guard.

  “Hey there,” said Willie smoothly, extending his hand. The guard stared for a moment, and then smiled and shook. “Name’s Willie. And you are?”

  “Gary,” the guard said, nodding.

  “Gary,” Willie repeated. “Great. You know, I’ve got a son who’s about your age. What are you, senior in high school?”

  “Graduated last spring,” Gary said proudly. “I start college next semester.”

  “Good for you!” Willie said with what sounded like genuine enthusiasm. “Man, college is expensive, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, well,” Gary said, nodding his head toward the guard shack. “That’s why I’m here. Saving as much as I can.”

  “Oh sure. You’ve got to. Hey, tell you what,” Willie said, reaching for his wallet. “Why don’t I make a donation to your college fund?”

  He pulled out five $100 bills, folded them deftly, and slipped them into Gary’s hand.

  “That ought to pay for a few textbooks, at least,” Willie said.

  “Wow,” Gary said, grinning. “Thanks.”

  “You know, I’ve got a little more I can contribute to the cause,” Willie said, lowering his voice, “but I don’t have it on me. I left it in Herb’s cabin. What do you say I go get it, give it to you on the way out?”

  Gary cottoned on immediately. “Well, it’s probably safer here with me than laying around the cabin. Yeah, I think you should go and get it.”

  “I like the way you think, kid,” Willie said as he backed up toward the van. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

  Norbert bundled Herb into the van and Willie hopped back into the driver’s seat. Gary returned to the guard shack and pushed a few buttons on a console, and the barrier rose smoothly into the air. As the van rolled past, Willie gave the young man a small, friendly salute.