Loose Ends. Don Easton
Ben Junior yelled. “Come on, Doodle, let’s go!” he said, leaping from the rope and crashing in amongst some bales. Both children scrambled to be first to reach the ladder.
Moments later, Ben Junior raced down the gravel driveway on his bicycle. Muddy water sprayed out from the puddles in some of the deeper potholes. Ben Junior lifted his feet high off the pedals, but not high enough to avoid getting splashed by the mud. Maggie followed behind but kept her distance.
Elizabeth, watching from the garden, shook her head.
“You two be back in time for supper!” she shouted. Then as an afterthought she added, “Maggie! If you want to pick some berries, I’ll make your favourite pie for dessert!”
Wizard checked his rear-view mirror as he turned off onto a gravel road. He held his breath and let it out when he saw that the Acura was the only car on the road.
“Where the fuck are you taking me?” The Suit asked.
His German shepherd stuck its nose out of the back seat and licked his ear. He yanked the choke chain around the dog’s neck, jerking it back.
“Just a small detail to talk about with Rolly. Will only take a couple of minutes. I’ll get you to the motel on time.”
The Suit didn’t respond. Wizard’s business could not be discussed in phone calls. He took a gold cigar case out of his Armani suit and opened it.
A ring-necked pheasant flew up from the side of the road as the car swept by. The German shepherd lunged at the side window. Flashing fangs exploded with saliva as the beast turned its attention to the rear window.
Maggie hung on to her plastic pail of blackberries as she followed Ben Junior around to the front of the abandoned farmhouse. Her skinny, freckled arms hung from her T-shirt and bore scratches from the sharp thorns of the nearby blackberry bushes. Ben Junior’s mouth and cheeks bore deep purple traces from the juicy berries he’d already eaten.
The front door of the house, leading into the kitchen, had been kicked open. By the way the big splinters of wood hung from the lock, Maggie figured it had to have been done by a grown-up. Most of the windows were broken, and the kitchen cupboards were only a shell. The grey linoleum was buckled and cracked. It made her think of a giant web.
“Next time, I’m gonna bring my stuff and draw a picture of a big spider on this floor.”
“Why?” replied Ben Junior. “I’m sure there’s real ones in here.”
A pigeon burst from the top of a cupboard and flapped across the kitchen.
Ben Junior instinctively grabbed Maggie’s arm but let go as the pigeon escaped through a broken windowpane.
“Scared you, Doodle?” said Ben Junior.
“It scared you too! And if you don’t stop calling me Doodle, I’ll tell Mom you stole money from her purse.”
“It was only a quarter,” he said.
“You still stole.”
“I just borrowed it. I’m going to put it back.”
“Doesn’t matter. You never asked, so that means you stole. I should tell Uncle Jack.”
Ben Junior paused, then changed the topic. “Come on, let’s play grown-ups!”
They entered a room off the kitchen that had once been the main bedroom. Part of a broken mirror hung from the back of the door. Maggie placed her bucket on the floor. She found a rag to rub a circle of grime off the mirror and pretended to put on lipstick.
She did not see the freckle-faced kid with pigtails in the reflection. Instead, it was a pretty lady. Like the cover girls who advertise makeup. Except I’m not going to be a cover girl. I’ll be an artist. A really famous artist…
Ben Junior nudged in front of her. “I have to shave,” he said, sounding gruff.
“Well then hurry. You have to drive over and pick up the baby…”
A car’s arrival interrupted their game. They knew the old farmhouse was off limits. Maggie looked at Ben Junior and put her finger to her lips. Outside, a big dog barked.
Maggie peeked through the crack in the bedroom door. She saw two men walk into the kitchen. One carried a blue sports bag. He had a grey goatee on his chin. He also had a tattoo that looked like a couple of words over a picture on his arm.
The other man was dressed in a suit. He was slim, clean-shaven, and had dark, wavy hair neatly trimmed at the top of his collar.
Wizard tossed the sports bag on the kitchen counter, where it landed with a thud.
“I don’t have all fucking day. Where is he?” asked The Suit.
Maggie heard another car arrive.
“He’s here now,” said Wizard, peering out the window.
Maggie looked at her brother. His sparkling blue eyes stared back. He had a devilish grin on his face and tried to push her aside to peek out the door. She grabbed him by the shoulder. He caught the fear in her face and became more sober, stepping back from the door.
Maggie saw the other man walk into the kitchen. He wore a black leather vest and a black T-shirt that partially covered a round and hairy belly. A hunting knife hung from a scabbard on his belt. The end of the handle had a skull on it with ruby red eyes. His balding head and hairless, pie-shaped face and chubby chin reminded Maggie of a plate she had in her dollhouse. The plate had a man-in-the-moon face on it.
“Any trouble finding the place?” Rolly asked.
“Your directions were good,” said Wizard.
“So what do ya think?” asked Rolly. “Good place to rent for a grow op.”
“Later. What about today’s business? Ya get it all?”
“Fifty keys of quick, dead on. Got the French bitch laid down at the Black Water for tonight. She’ll be back on the train tomorrow. That the bread?”
“It ain’t my fuckin’ lunch.”
Maggie saw Rolly unzip the blue bag. She could see the crack at the top of his flat bum. He took out a couple of bundles of money, then crammed them back inside. He reached inside his vest pocket and took out a small plastic baggie of brownish powder. He held it out toward Wizard and said, “I brought it if you want to see it.”
The Suit yelled “You fucking idiot!” while slapping Rolly’s hand. The baggie flew out of his hand and spilled on the counter. “I told you never to bring that crap around me!”
“Relax,” said Wizard. “It’s only a sample.”
“Not this! What about the fifty kilos?”
“You think I’d be drivin’ around with that!” said Rolly indignantly. “It’s already stashed.”
Wizard picked up the baggie. Sunshine illuminated his arm and Maggie saw the tattoo. The words Dirty Dog were emblazoned over the head of a dog.
These are bad men, thought Maggie. Uncle Jack will know what to do with them! She took out her sketchpad and heard Wizard say, “Make sure the French bitch is on the train tomorrow. Don’t want any complaints from back east.”
Maggie wrote the word Dirty and heard the whine of a dog. She peeked through the crack of the door and saw a German shepherd pad into the kitchen. It sniffed the floor, slowly moving toward her. Its claws made a light clicking sound on the linoleum, zigzagging closer.
Maggie gently closed the door. It creaked slightly.
The men quit talking. Did they hear me? What if they find us? I bet they’d be mad! She looked at the broken windowpane in the bedroom and then at her brother. No way to escape.
Wizard reached into the sports bag, wrapping his hand around the shortened stock