Blame It on the Dog Read online

  Which is why I am leaving this to you. Please understand that the contents of this box are in no way tainted. In fact, in some ways this may be the purest money I’ve ever had, maybe even holy. Some of it I earned outright. Some was the gratitude expressed by people I helped along the way. I never asked for it (except what I earned, of course), in fact I tried to refuse some of it, but sometimes people have a need to give you things. When they gave me money I stored it here. After Nixon made it legal to own gold again I decided to convert to hard money. Gold always seemed a good idea to me; the way the government prints money when they need more of it there’s no way it can keep its value over time. And I never understood the stock market the way your mother does. So, hopefully the gold was a good idea for you.

  There are no strings tied to the contents of this box, son, except for one: do good with it and use it wisely. Never, ever tire of doing good, Gabe. I’m no preacher but if you do that you’ll be more like God than you ever thought possible.

  With great love and affection,

  Dad

  In silence Gabe folded the letter and slipped it in his rear pocket. Then he stacked the coins back in the box, secured the latch and stood there, thinking.

  Finally, Alyssa said in a quiet voice, “Was your father a religious man?”

  With his front teeth slightly askew he said, “No. At least I don’t think so. But what do I know? I obviously didn’t really know very much about him. Or my mother. I don’t know anything about either one of them.” Gabe reached across the room and pressed the buzzer.

  Gabe and Alyssa sat in two chairs across the desk from Mr. Hustadler watching him tap keys on his computer.

  “Here we are,” he said and turned the monitor where they could see it.

  “What are we looking at?” asked Gabe.

  Mr. Hustadler stood up and leaned over the desk, pointing, “Here.”

  “Oh,” said Gabe. “Oh! Is that right? $1743?”

  Hustadler smiled even more broadly. “Yes, it is. That’s today’s closing price: one thousand seven hundred and forty three dollars. Per ounce.”

  “Are you telling me this coin is worth $1743?”

  “Well, not really. That’s the price for bullion. That is a one ounce coin so it will fetch a few dollars more than the spot price, less a small fee to the dealer, of course. Would you like to sell it?”

  Gabe thought for a moment and then said, “Yes, I think I would, Mr. Hustadler.” He shoved the coin across the desk.

  The banker smiled and shook his head, “No, that’s one of the few things we don’t do, here. But,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “Regal should be open for a while longer. They’re across the street on Seventh Street, about mid-block. Ernesto is a good friend and an honest man; he will treat you right. But you should hurry. Sometimes he closes early.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “HOW MAY I serve you two nice people today?” The trim man behind the counter had jet black eyebrows that were in stark contrast with the white hair that crowned his head. He wore a peaceful air of serenity and a guyabera shirt. Gabe sensed wariness and a tension beneath the serenity. He had the tightness of a watch spring.

  “A gentleman at the bank said you might buy this,” Gabe held the gold eagle between thumb and finger.

  “And which gentleman at which bank was this? There are many gentlemen and many banks.” He smiled and added, “Many ladies, too.”

  Gabe slipped the card from his pocket and read, “Glen Hustadler?”

  “You are a friend of Mr. Hustadler?”

  “My father. They were friends.”

  “Do I know your father?”

  Gabe was getting irritated. “I have no idea. The reason we’re here is to sell you this coin. Are you buying?”

  The man waved the request away as if it were a gnat before his face. “I buy many things. Sometimes I buy coins like that. But there will be time for coins later. First the important things. Who is your father?”

  “Was, and I doubt you knew him. His name was Burton Chance. He died a couple of years ago.”

  The man’s face sagged. “How sad I am,” he said. “I did not know.” After a moment he said, “And what do they call you, Mr. Chance?”

  “My name is Gabriel, but most people call me Gabe.”

  “Gabriel – Hebrew for ‘God is my strength’.” He paused. The pause was sustained and pregnant.

  “It’s just a name. I’m not Jewish. It’s just a name. Just Gabriel.”

  “Oh, yes, of course, just a name, like Saturday – the day of, Saturn, the father of Zeus, the chief of the Greek gods. Or Thursday – Thor’s day – he was the Norse god of thunder. Just names, Just Gabriel, just names, do you think? Just names. Hmmm.” Gabe grew uncomfortable under the man’s penetrating gaze and peculiar way of speaking.

  “I loved your father, Just Gabriel. You are very much like him in the kind eyes, the way you speak, the way you move. I think I will love you, too.

  Gabe’s unease grew and he shifted his weight before this strange man. “Uh - is Ernesto here?”

  The man ignored the question. He studied Gabe. Gabe grew restless under his stare.

  With a nod the man said, “I don’t believe you know your father well, Just Gabriel. Yes, your father was a very kind man. He was even kind to bad animals, those ones that only know how to tear and kill and destroy. He put that one out of his misery with one, single bullet.” Ernesto pointed his finger, cocked his thumb with the other hand, and then made the sound of a gun firing with his mouth, the way little boys do. “If I had done it, I would have put his head on a pike—before he died.” The last he said matter-of-factly and without passion, as if he was explaining how to apply a coat of varnish without leaving bubbles in the finish.

  Gabe sensed Alyssa tensing behind him.

  “Was the animal rabid? Is that why you men killed him? And why would you even think about torturing a defenseless animal? Sane people don’t torture animals!” she said.

  The man turned his penetrating eyes on the veterinarian and said, “I am always kind to animals, dear lady, as was Just Gabriel’s father. I was speaking of a human animal, though humanity could not be seen in his behavior which is why he is no longer with us. No.” He shook his head from side to side. “This man was not rabid, nor was he defenseless. He was cruel and mean of spirit. He enjoyed torturing and killing, not animals, but people. For him it was sport. He was the one we killed. He cried out for killing. It was written on his soul.”

  Alyssa shrank back.

  Ernesto turned his attention to Gabe. “Yes, Just Gabriel, I will buy this coin. Do you wish cash or a check?”

  “Are you saying my father killed someone?”

  “Only when it was absolutely necessary. And only when it was deserved. Your father was quite adept.” He stopped speaking and sucked his teeth. “You look shocked, Just Gabriel. You truly did not know your father well?”

  “Apparently not,“ he said. “Are you Ernesto?”

  “Of course. This,” he indicated with both arms opened wide, “is my shop, my regal domain,” he chuckled, “my royal pawn shop.”

  “How do I know you’re not lying? My father wasn’t a murderer.”

  Ernesto sucked his teeth again, and stared down at the floor. When he raised his eyes to Gabe he was still smiling but the smile had been drawn over something very hard. “It is never a good idea, Just Gabriel, to call a king a liar in his domain.” As suddenly as the hardness appeared it vanished and he said, “I never said Burt Chance was a murderer. I said he killed an animal that looked like a man. That is not murder. It is like…” he shoved his tongue over his teeth, up between lip and gum, thinking. Abruptly he brightened and raised his right hand in triumph, “Ah, yes! It is – pest control.” He smiled, pleased with the description.

  Gabe was confused by Ernesto’s story, not believing what the man was saying. Alyssa’s face had fear and disgust chiseled across it which added anger to his emotional stew.

  Not takin
g her eyes off Ernesto, her head made small back and forth movements, “Your father is a killer, too?

  ”You don’t know that! Neither does he.” Gabe snapped. He was standing on the balls of his feet, hands loose and ready at his sides, for what he didn’t know.

  “Oh, I do. I know because I saw him. Can I get you something to drink, Just Gabriel? Beer, whisky? No? A soft drink, then. Or water?”

  “We don’t want anything to drink. I want to know what you’re talking about.”

  “I am surprised you don’t know. Mr. Hustadler’s daughter was kidnapped by a terrible man. She was not the first, but she was the last. When your father and I found her the man was on top of her. Your father only shot him once, in the right side of his head. Here,” Ernesto touched his head with his finger. “He was a very bad man.” He shook his head. “A very, very bad man. It was an excellent shot. Your father was over 40 feet away and there were tree limbs and leaves in the way. He would have shot him again, but there was no need. The animal did not receive the punishment he had earned because your father was generous. And expedient,” he added.

  Gabe felt the earth tilt and he grabbed the counter. After a bit he said, “And the girl?”

  Ernesto nodded, “She was not hurt, except in here, and in here.” He pointed first to his head and then to his chest. “But she is fine, now. She completed college and married a nice, young man. They have a little girl of their own. Mr. Hustadler was very grateful to your father.” A mist had settled over his eyes. He wiped it away and said, “I would like to buy your coin, Just Gabriel. I would like to help Burt Chance’s son. I would like that very much.”

  On the sidewalk outside the pawn shop Alyssa and Gabe stood apart, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Finally Gabe shook his head and said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know about any of this.”

  The skin of Alyssa’s face was scarlet and there were white patches on her cheeks, as if she had worked out too hard and too fast. “I can’t believe your father took the law into his own hands… and killed a man!“ She spoke as if she were speaking around something vile in her mouth.

  “What would you have done, Alyssa? Dial 911 and wait for the cops while he was violating, maybe even murdering that girl? Is that what you think he should have done? Or maybe he should have crossed his fingers and yelled, ‘King’s X. Stop shooting. I called the cops and they’re on their way. It’s over.’ That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard. When you are face to face with evil, you have to do something.”

  “Of course I don’t think they should have let her get hurt. But killing people is wrong. You can’t just shoot someone.”

  “Uh, yes you can,” he said. “It’s called self defense; survival; protecting the helpless. Sometimes, Alyssa, there’s no one to do the hard thing except you, and if you don’t do it, terrible, horrible, unspeakable things will happen. My father did those things. I have done them, too.”

  Both their emotions and their voices had been rising until they were shouting. Ernesto stepped onto the sidewalk and said to them, “My friends please, please. Calm yourselves. Just Gabriel, put that money in your pocket or someone who wants it more than you might try to take it from you.”

  They both stopped and turned toward the older man who thought they looked chastened; at least a bit, perhaps.

  “That is better. It will be dark, soon, and it would be best to be in your car on your way back to your small city. But please come back, Just Gabriel Chance. Come back and we will talk more about your father.”

  “Sure. Yeah. You bet,” was all Gabe could manage to say before he turned and walked back the way they had come. It took Dr. Alyssa Carter, the veterinarian, longer, but ultimately she followed him.

  Needless to say, the ride back to Brandt was a quiet one.

  CHAPTER 9

  “WHAVEN’T YOU sold the Schmidt unit, yet! We’re running out of time, remember? Do I have to remind you of everything?”

  “Of course not. I have a showing tomorrow: Mr. and Mrs. Klobidanz from Duluth; on Wednesday I’m meeting Mrs. Leibowitz from Gary, Indiana at the airport in Austin. And I’m waiting on callbacks from,” he pulled a small stack of pink 3 x 5 index cards from his shirt pocket, sorted through them and read, “Mr. Morris of St. Louis; Mr. and Mrs. Smith from Minot, South Dakota, a great replacement for our dear, departed Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt; and the Lewises from Buffalo, New York - snowbirds all and eager prospects. Just pray they are still alive when I call them. Even so, there are just as many on the waiting list I haven’t called. I’ll close one of them by the middle of next month or turn in my Mountainview blazer. Probably the old lady,” he smirked. “Old ladies are suckers for my boyish charm.” Edsel Drake smiled the smile of a confident salesman at the stern woman behind the desk.

  “Harrumph. The middle of next month will be too late. You won’t have the money before his note is due.”

  “Worry not, dear Anita. Your Edsel is on the job. The note isn’t due until the 20th. I only said the 15th to give myself a little breathing room. You’ll have a check in your hands by next Friday.”

  “A deposit? You know that won’t be…”

  “Not a deposit, Anita; the whole enchilada.”

  “$250,000?” His wife was doubtful.

  “I guarantee it. That will more than make up his shortfall, don’t you think?”

  “I will believe it when I see the check in my hand.”

  Edsel wondered, again, how his wife managed to speak at all through her chronically pursed lips.

  “Anita, have I ever let you down before? I’m the best at what I do. That’s why we set this deal up the way we did. Selling these old farts is a piece of cake.”

  “Old is right. Some of them look like they would be better off putting their money into a mausoleum!”

  “And those are the ones we love! They pay their non-refundable acceptance fee, first and last month’s payments, common fees, prepaid electricity, water, garbage … and then,” he clicked his tongue twice, “they kick the bucket and we do it all over again. We are sitting on a gold mine, Anita, a freaking gold mine!”

  She eyed him and wagged her head. “Don’t fool yourself, Edsel. We’ve been lucky up until now. How many stupid people are there who’ll fall for all your malarkey?”

  “Once again you prove why you need me, dear Anita. Their lack of IQ points has nothing to do with my success. In fact, the smarter they are, the harder they fall. ”

  His wife did not seem to agree. No matter how often they had this conversation her response was the same.

  “If you don’t believe what I say, believe what I do. Have I ever failed you? Haven’t I sold every unit before deadline? Haven’t I beaten even my own deadlines? Absolutely, I have! And I’ll do it again and again until the day I die. The only real problem we have is that your father can’t seem to live within his very rich means.”

  “That is none of our business! What we need to do is buy more land, build more units.”

  Edsel shook his head, “He won’t allow it, and for good reason: that would kill the golden goose.”

  She started to object but he stopped her with a lifted hand.

  “This is a truly unique location – bountiful springs gush from the base of this cliff, the horseshoe shape and its orientation create an ever-flowing stream for fishing and swimming and languid walks in a cool microclimate you’ll find nowhere but here at Mountainview – and it always flows, even during the harshest drought. The rest of the world around us may be dry and dusty and hot as hell; water sources may dry up, but those springs and this cliff make Mountainview a divine ground like you’ll find nowhere else in the world. What you can’t grasp, Mrs. Drake is that there is nowhere we can add cottages that will provide what Mountainview is known for. And without that, no one will pay us $250,000 for the privilege of living here at an ongoing cost of $10,000 to $15,000 per month. That’s why we sell to old people. Old people die. And every time they die their unit is thrown back into inventory so I
can work the Drake magic once again.”

  “Yes, but we need more money!” she hissed. “I’m not one of your suckers, Edsel! We need more sales. The wolf will be back at our door all too soon. Then what do we do?”

  “We will do what we have always done, Anita: we will wait patiently for the hand of providence to return a unit to inventory. And, if divine providence doesn’t provide, we will. That’s why my favorite suckers are the oldest and the sickest: their units return to inventory more quickly than any others.” He smiled broadly, teeth glaring. “And that, my dear, is the magic of turnover.”

  “Turnover,” she muttered.

  “Turnover,” he said.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE ODOR OF rotting fish mugged his nostrils, jarring him awake. He’d had all the jarring he could endure on the road back from Austin with the never-more-to-be-thawed Dr. Alyssa Carter. It took all the self-control he could muster to keep from buying a bottle of something with alcohol in it. Instead, he popped a can of Dr. Pepper to drown his sorrows and crawled into an empty bed.

  “What is that smell?” he muttered

  Gabe pried his eyelids open and then slammed them shut. He waved his right hand in front of his face but it was a useless gesture.

  “Get off me!” he yelled. When the dog actually obeyed and sprang to the floor he wasn’t sure how to respond. He heard the stiff-legged trot fade down the hall so he decided to do nothing. Except complain.

  “I swear he gorges on road kill at night.” With a groan, he rolled onto his side just as the phone rang. He caught it on the sixth chorus.

  “Oh, hey, Sophie… Yeah, he just ran down the hall… no, no eggs for me, but your homemade English muffins sound a lot better than breakfast tacos… I’ll be there in 20 minutes… Of course. You bet. Sure.”