Ronnie Basco fiddled again with his tie. The room was getting very warm and he could hear the whispers of estranged family members in his ears. He hated them. He hated them all. He was the only one who truly cared about his father. The others all huddled around him, feigning care and love in order to get their hands on his money. His father was dumb enough to believe it. Ronnie knew that he deserved the money. After all the years of putting up with his father’s madness, illness and attitude, that money belonged to Ronnie.

 

            He looked around the room. His Aunt Edna sat at the back with her husband Dennis and her daughter Sheila. His father’s long time partner Guy Fletcher had come with his wife Phyllis and his son William. There were some more distant cousins that Ronnie didn’t know as well. His sister Carla stood near the window refusing to make eye contact with anyone. 

 

            The lawyer was over forty minutes late when he arrived. Ronnie watched as the rotund attorney lumbered through the door and deposited himself in his seat.

 

            “I’m sorry everyone. I got held up in court.” The lawyer said as he pulled a stack of papers from his brief case. “I know it’s hot in here so we will get straight to the reading if you don’t mind.”  He began to read, “ I, Victor Basco, being of sound mind and body.” Ronnie audibly chuckled. The lawyer looked over the top of his wire glasses and cleared his throat “I, Victor Basco, being of sound mind and body leave my house and all its contents to my son, Ronald, and my daughter, Carla. My collection of family heirlooms I leave to my sister, Edna.”  Ronnie smiled and Edna broke into tears.  The lawyer looked again at the will. “All my liquid assets, including savings, checking, stock, real estate and various other holdings totaling $117 Million, as well as my controlling stock in Basco-Fletcher Industries, I leave to…” The lawyer paused. He loved this part. Ronnie made fists. “…Robert Johnson and Charles Pickens of Big City Eyes Investigations.”

 

            The lawyer folded up the will and returned it to his briefcase. The locking of the brief case echoed in the gaping mouths of the family. The lawyer clasped on to his belt loops and adjusted the soft gut beneath. He smiled politely.

 

            Victor Basco’s family and friends sat in stunned silence. All their blood left their collective faces. Ronnie’s fists had become so tight that his fingernails cut into his palm and drew blood.

 

            The lawyer cleared his throat. “I am mailing the heirs an inventory to sign. I will be sending you all an affidavit. I’m assuming none of you will contest.” He burst into laughter. He laughed out the door, down the hall, into the elevator, out the main foyer and into the rain outside. There he felt his heart flutter and he stopped laughing. He pulled a bottle of glycerin tablets out of his pocket and popped one. The lawyer then made his way to his car and drove off.

 

            Upstairs in the office, hell was unleashed in a wave of cursing and screaming. Ronnie Basco sat very quietly, seething with rage. He stood up and slowly made his way to the door as his family fell to ruins. In the corridor he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his dentist.

 

            His clenching had cracked a tooth.

 

Big City

“ANOMIE”

by Eric Schwartz

 

 

It was another gray, drizzly Tuesday afternoon in Burbdale. Over the tops of the ranch homes, the Big City skyline was blurred through the incessant spitting from the heavens. No birds sang. They just huddled together under overhanging branches, pissed off at the weather.  The weather had been like this for nearly 3 weeks. Some days were wetter than others, but on the whole everything was damp. The sun hadn’t poked out in all that time. Suicides, domestic abuse and depression were rampant as is normal in long spells of rain. Somehow the rain had brought  the tensions of city life, like worms, to the soft surface. 

 

            Sitting quietly in the rain was a 15-year-old dark green Sedan with an olive top.  Its rusted chrome bumper gave way to a series of bullet holes in the left front fender that some one had attempted to repair with minimal success. The widows were slightly foggy and opaque with rain. The tires were bald, had 4 different hubcaps and every last one of them needed some air.  It was a perfect, rickety looking, non-descript hunk of junk.

 

Over four days this car had become the pariah of Kilburn Ave. Janet Delgado thought it belonged to the Petersons.  The Petersons were positive that it must belong to that strange Crevitts kid across the street. That strange Crevitts kid had been sick with Mono for over a month and didn’t even know that the car was out there.  No one knew what to do about it. Every evening the car would vanish and no one ever saw anybody get into it. Day in and day out for four days this went on.  In the beginning phone calls were exchanged around the neighborhood between concerned citizens. Still, though they were all outraged at the sight of this “car”, the rain and personal insulation kept anyone from ever approaching the vehicle.  Eventually they forgot it was there. It blended into the suburban neighborhood like so many power lines; the suburban mind digitally removing unpleasantness from their green, computer-generated world. Besides, no body wanted the police pulling up in front of their house. What would the others say?

 

The only person never contacted about the mystery car was Emily.  Nobody ever called Emily, except when they needed her permission for a block party or they needed her to sign a petition for the local city council. The sedan, for a time, drew the mind of the neighborhood collective away from Emily. It didn’t take long for them to snap back into place. Emily was a young single mother whose husband had run away with another woman. She was fairly well off. She would have to be to live here.  But the neighbors didn’t like her no matter how hard she tried.  She was beautiful, single and she was an Elf.  These were the qualities that made the Kilburn Ave. Wives hate poor, misguided Emily.   

 

Life with Emily in the neighborhood was a revolving door.  Every few months there’d be a new live-in boyfriend. There would be a new smile on her face. Then a few weeks later there would be the inevitable late night shouting match in the driveway. Then the boyfriend would be gone and Emily would revert to wearing tight clothes and flirting with the neighborhood men.  Amongst the wives it was decided that Emily was falling in love again. 

 

The man they had seen coming and going at all times of the day was older, in his late forties. He drove a beautiful metallic gray town car. Mrs. Peterson also noticed that he wore a wedding band.  They all agreed, again, that Emily was a home wrecking slut. It was the only thing they could agree on.

 

Emily never noticed the sedan. 

 

            The only person in the whole neighborhood that knew who the car belonged to was setting a furious pace on his 10-speed toward the sedan.  He was excited, out of breath and couldn’t care less about the rain.  For the last few days he’d been making extra money running errands for the guy in the sedan, and it was looking like this would be the last one.  Over the last few days he had gotten food and the paper for the man in the sedan, but today was different.  The guy gave him 5 bucks to take some pictures in the parking lot at Broemmel Elementary School, and get back here before Emily and that guy brought her kid home.  He could feel the camera slapping his thigh through his newspaper delivery bag as his 13-year-old legs pumped his bicycle pedals faster.  He had very little time left.  Even though he had cut through a few yards and traffic, leaving the school was always tough and they still had a car.  He prayed for a couple of more minutes.  He didn’t want to let the guy in the sedan down.

 

            Filthy water splashed up the seat of his pants as he skidded to a stop next to the car. Catching his breath he knocked on the window. There was a subtle whir as the window lowered.

 

            “Are they on the way?” The guy said wiping sleep from his eyes.

 

            “Yeah.” The kid extracted the camera from his newspaper bag. “Here. I got to get home before they get here.”

 

            The guy just chuckled. He snatched a twenty from the dashboard.  “Here. This is for all your help, Chad.  And don’t worry. You haven’t done anything wrong. I promise.”

 

            Chad stared at the twenty for a moment. “Thanks Mister. Wow. I should talk to strangers more often.”

 

            “I wouldn’t suggest that. You got lucky with me. Now get on home before they get here.” The guy rolled up his window.  He heard Chad shout his goodbye before pedaling like a madman off into the rain.

 

            Smiles Johnson sat back in the car seat and felt a little guilty. He had paid that kid to go do his job.  He knew it wasn’t right but it was all he could’ve done. Broemmel Elementary School was exceptionally sensitive to adult strangers and if he had waited in the parking lot for the shots he wanted, the cops would have been on him in a heart beat. His case would’ve been blown. This case was far too involved and satisfying to be blown. He sipped his coffee to that thought. The coffee had been cold for hours, but he drank it all the same.

 

            For three weeks he’d been following Judge Leonard Mackery. Mrs. Mackery had hired him to get proof of an affair so she could start divorce proceedings. He was getting paid well, but that wasn’t the only thing giving him a sense of satisfaction. Back in the days when he was a cop, Mackery had been a particularly corrupt judge. He was rumored to have been on the Manzetti Family payroll. Every time Smiles dragged one of the Manzetti thugs in, Mackery would let them walk. Even now, this little chippy he was bedding was brought up before him on a check fraud charge. The good judge’s bit of side action was a result of letting her walk. Smiles was dying to watch this guy go down in flames. His only regret was that this young Elf girl, Emily, and her son Dex would be dragged through the mud. He took another drink of the disgusting coffee, hoping that it would drown the rising guilt.

 

            He had been living in his car for four days, collecting pictures of Mackery and Emily in different domestic situations; taking groceries into the house, collecting Dex from school. There was still no kiss. Not even so much as holding hands. He had built a case around Mackey living this double life and now all Smiles needed was the capper. That one picture that he could take to Mrs. Mackey and walk away on. As he thought about how great it would be to go home and take a shower, he heard Mackery’s car splashing along the road behind him. He brought his camera to the ready.

 

 This was usually when Smiles felt like a leech; hoping for a show of affection so that he could get paid. After he left the force and started the agency, he hoped that this wouldn’t be all about taking dirty pictures. Unfortunately, that’s what it had become. The Mackery case felt like some kind of redemption. Perhaps, after four years of taking dirty pictures, things were on an upswing.

 

A few houses down Emily, Dex and Mackery were getting out of the car. Emily crouched down and said something to her son.  As she talked Mackery checked his watch.  Emily smiled and Dex ran happily into the house.  Smiles began clicking the shutter on the camera as Emily stepped close to Mackery as the two talked.  They stood close. The body language read familiarity and intimacy. Smiles knew this but you can’t spell that out in a picture. You can’t testify to that in court.  He growled softly to himself in frustration. He sat back, defeated. Then Emily leaned in and kissed Mackery.

 

Smiles’ car was filled with the sound of his camera shutter clicking and the film advancing. Mackery placed one hand on her chest and pulled her close.  When the camera was spent, Smiles let it fall onto the seat next to him. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket.

 

“Thanks for the money shot, Your Honor.” He mumbled as he lit his cigarette.

 

*

            Charlie had never spent much time in houses like this. This house, situated in the upper class River Lake area of Big City, was huge.  He chuckled at the thought of trying to fit any of this furniture into his one bedroom apartment. He sat down in the middle of a huge white couch and waited to spring the surprise. He didn’t really like doing this, he thought it was overly dramatic, but the customer wanted it this way. The plan was for him to stay in the living room until called for. So he waited, feeling like a little kid about to go in and see the principal.

 

            In the kitchen, the Hills had positioned themselves at the table. From the table they could look down the main hall to the front door. Fred and Linda Hill sat, with their hands folded, waiting patiently. It wasn’t long before they heard the key in the door and the door swung open. The Hill’s baby-sitter, Tracy, entered with Brit Hill riding her hip.

 

            “Oh hi. I’m surprised to see you guys home.” Tracy said. “Is everything all right?”

 

            Fred Hill stood. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down in sadness. He was playing the good cop. The mournful, put-upon cop that regretted having to do their job. Then Linda Hill stood up, in full bad cop mode. The hard ass, tough as nails cop with a degree from Street State University. They had seen this on TV a dozen times. It was very natural.

 

            “Tracy. Actually we came home to talk to you.” Fred said.

 

            Linda rushed to Tracy and snatched little Brit out of her arms.

 

            “What’s going on?” Tracy mumbled.

 

            “Charlie!” Mrs. Hill called into the living room. On cue Charlie came into the room, manila envelope in hand.

 

            Mr. Hill sat down again. “Tracy, this is Charlie Pickens with Big City Eyes Investigations. He’s been following you for a week and has been doing a complete background check. I’m sure you know that one can never be too careful nowadays. Charlie? Please read your report to Tracy.”

 

            Charlie suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and began. “Tracy Leslie Boworth.  Age 17.  A history of run-ins with the law most notably the drug possession arrest at last year’s Kollepi Festival. Over the course of the week that I’ve followed her she has taken your daughter, Brit Hill, to rendezvous with a series of young men whom she fools around with in the back seat while Brit sits in the front. She has also used Brit’s carrier to hide stolen goods at grocery and department stores.  She has also purchased and smoked Fleck in the presence of your daughter. It is my considered opinion that she should be made to leave your employment, and that you should notify the authorities so that Tracy can never again work in the child care industry.” Charlie stared at Tracy as he produced a series of pictures depicting the acts he had just described. He was proud of that last line. He hadn’t written it at all. He was simply swept away by the melodrama of the moment.

 

            Tracy burst into tears.

 

After a tongue lashing from Mrs. Hill that made Charlie blush, the Hills called the girl’s parents and Tracy sobbed until they came and picked her up.  Charlie soon found himself sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee. Mrs. Hill, now much softer, sat across from him.

 

“You did an excellent job Mr. Pickens. I will send a wonderful letter of recommendation to your boss.” She said smiling.

 

“That’d be wonderful. Thank you.” Charlie leaned forward and sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry that nice people like you have to go through things like this.”

 

Mr. Hill finished stirring cream into his coffee and dropped the spoon into the sink. He hoisted his mug and moved to the table. “The sad thing is what we have to put kids through in order to make a living.”

 

“I don’t know where we’re going to find another nanny.” Mrs. Hill chimed in.

 

Charlie chuckled. “It’s a little more than making a living isn’t it?” The Hills looked at him quizzically. “Well,” he continued. “ This is such a big beautiful house.  I’m just thinking that if you had a smaller place, maybe one or the other of you could stay home.”  There was a quiet moment that made Charlie’s stomach drop.  He hoped they knew that he meant no offense in that remark.

 

“In a perfect world, Mr. Pickens. Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I wasn’t working.” Mrs. Hill grinned, and Charlie breathed a sigh. “Was your mother a stay-at-home mom?”

 

“Actually, Mrs. Hill, I was an orphan.” There was a silence. “But I was a stay-at-home orphan.” Charlie said, relieving the tension on the room. The three chuckled. “Actually that’s why I went into private investigation. I’m hoping to track down my folks some day. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great life. I just need to know, I guess.” The Hills nodded. Charlie knew he was terrible at small talk. This was one of those times that he should have just let the mother comment pass. ‘Oh well,’ he thought ‘maybe next time.’  Charlie sipped his coffee and looked at his watch, which was the international symbol for ‘I gotta go’.

 

*

Smiles could feel Kredge’s eyes burning into the back of his head. Kredge was one of Smiles’ least favorite creatures in existence, a disgusting goblin lawyer. He found it hard to not show his distaste openly.  Smiles turned and smirked at him. Kredge turned and looked out the window swiftly.  Smiles looked back at Mrs. Mackery, who sat at Kredge’s desk sifting through the pictures.

 

“I’m sorry Mrs. Mackery. I was hoping not to find anything, but…” Smiles nearly always said it, and he nearly always meant it. Not this time. Mrs. Mackery said nothing for a long time. She just stared at the last picture.  Smiles saw that it was the money shot. He was bracing himself for the onslaught of emotion that usually followed this ritual. He began scanning his memory, for all the comforting things he could find to say.

 

“This is perfect,” Mrs. Mackery finally blurted.  “This is exactly what I need to nail that bastard in court. You’ve done well Mr. Johnson.”

 

Kredge’s leathery, gray goblin face came in close to Smiles who was standing stunned. “I told you Mrs. Mackery, Smiles is the best.”

 

“He certainly is.  This will ensure that I get a fair divorce.”

 

Kredge gurgled a goblin laugh, “And more money.” Smiles shook his head in disgust. He turned to leave.

 

“Thank you Mr. Johnson. We will inform you of the court date.”  Mrs. Mackery said.  Smiles pulled his raincoat on and grabbed his umbrella. He stopped at the door.

 

“Look. I don’t normally ask this. Is there anyway we can do this without dragging Emily and her boy through the dirt? She just seems real misguided, like a good girl that your husband is taking advantage of.”

 

Mrs. Mackery and Kredge burst into laughter. 

 

Smiles stood for a moment, stunned. He knew it was an out of the ordinary request but he didn’t think it warranted THAT response. 

 

“How noble of you, Mr. Johnson.” Kredge managed to gurgle out between chuckles.

 

Smiles stared at the two for a moment. “What do you mean?”

 

“Mr. Johnson, the cost of her tarnished reputation was more than compensated for.” Mrs. Mackery said as she slipped the pictures into her brief case. Nothing more was said. She just stood, smirking at Smiles. When it finally hit Smiles, it felt like a hang over.

 

“You set him up. You paid her to set him up.” His hands began to shake with anger. “I am not getting sucked into this!”

 

Kredge threw 2 returned checks down on the table. “You’ve already cashed your retainer and your first payment. You’re in it up to your balls, Johnson.”

 

Smiles turned and burst out into the hallway. He could hear Kredge’s voice behind him.

 

“I’ll be in touch, Smiles.” Kredge said, breaking into fits of laughter.

 

Alone in the elevator Smiles felt his ulcer flair. He stood there, staring at his own distorted reflection in the doors, thinking that the hardest thing to deal with when you’re seething with rage is a slow elevator ride.

 

*

            Big City Eyes resided in an old brick building in a part of town known as The Bunker. Just below the office was a physical therapist, and just above a woman taught piano. Recent urban renewal movements had turned the street into a bustling hive of trendy eateries and coffee houses. None of that really bothered Smiles, he was just glad that Tucker’s Tap was still situated next door, and that the newsstand was still standing.

 

            Smiles shook off his umbrella and stepped into the dark comfort of Tucker’s. He stopped and bought a pack of cigarettes from the machine and gave a wave to one of the waitresses. He took off his raincoat, put it on a peg and flopped down on a barstool next to Charlie.

 

            Charlie was nursing a double shot of Elven rum that Smiles could smell when he sat down. He just stared at the bottles behind the bar as if he was trying to melt them.

 

            “Tucker? Can a get a beer?” Smiles said, packing his smokes. The bartender nodded his answer.

 

            “How’s the judge?” Charlie said without breaking his stare.

 

            “Crooked, horny and being set up. How’s your little felon?” Smiles said lighting his cigarette.

 

            “She’s been fired. All in a days work.” Charlie finally broke his stare and looked at Smiles. “Why is it that I started this job with hopes of finding my family, and all I ever seem to do is disrupt other people’s?”

 

            Smiles chuckled. “Were you reading my mind? I had a lot of time in that car to

hone my telepathy.”

 

            “I thought I was picking something up last night.” Charlie smiled. “Were you thinking about female elves wrestling in pudding?”

 

            Smiles laughed. “For once, oddly, no.”

 

            Tucker dropped a cardboard coaster in front of Smiles and rested a pint of dark beer on top of it. Smiles took a long drink.

 

            Charlie looked back behind the bar and his smile faded. “I used to get really excited coming to work. Now, it just seems to be…” He trailed off.

 

            “…taking dirty pictures?” Smiles chuckled ironically.

 

            Charlie looked back at him. “Yeah. Exactly.”

 

            “Well, Charlie, we’ve done a lot of good, of late. You did really well with that whole Johnny Angel thing.” Smiles almost bit his tongue.

 

            “Yeah, but that’s whenever we’re helping out Stack and Needless. It’s second hand. And I sent that girl into the elevator…” Charlie stopped at shut his eyes. It had been weeks and he still hadn’t talked about the Goblin Hill incident. He took a hard drink. “It’s just that this job isn’t nearly as noble as I thought it would be.”

 

            “You know, when I joined the force twenty-odd years ago, I really believed I was going to make a difference. I was going to make a name for myself fighting crime. Get out from under my Dad’s shadow and all. But after a few years of dealing with the lowest scum in the world, it wears you down. Things get twisted inside. Black and white just turns muddy. I paid a twelve- year-old kid to take pictures of the judge today. Ethical? No. I can’t even begin to justify it. It’s just getting the job done. It’s all about the job.” Smiles lost his thought in another long stretch of beer.

 

            Charlie finished his drink and sucked an ice cube into his mouth. They both sat there for a moment in silence. Smiles was bumped out of his thoughts by another patron squatting on the barstool next to him. He could hear the man’s breathing in his ear as the guy shifted his girth on the stool.

 

            “Can I buy you gentlemen a drink?” The guy said. Slowly Smiles and Charlie looked at him. His face beamed back.  “The name’s Conroy. Steve Conroy.”

 

            Smiles stubbed out his cigarette. “The lawyer. I’ve heard of you.”

 

            “Ah. Good.”

 

            Smiles pulled out another smoke. “I’m not real fond of lawyers right now, so why don’t we cut to the chase. Are you looking for us, or are you slumming it in this bar, looking for some kind of kinky action?”

 

            “If you two are Johnson and Pickens.” Conroy was greeted by blank stares. He chuckled.

 

            “You know we are. Why don’t you get to the point?” Smiles said, lighting his new smoke.

 

            “That’s what I love about you private dicks. You seem to have this endless reservoir of humor.” Conroy pulled a bill out a money clip, separated a bill from the others and placed it on the bar. He looked at Tucker. “Buddy? Another of whatever they’re having for them and I’ll take a double Moonglow, neat.” Tucker silently went to work preparing the drinks as Conroy looked back at Smiles and Charlie. “Victor Basco.”

 

            Charlie didn’t recognize the name. He shrugged. Smiles nodded.

 

            “Yeah. I know the name. Rich guy. I think my dad knew him.” Smiles said.

 

            Conroy nodded. “Rich dead guy. He died about a month ago. Not a big surprise. He had been sick for years.”

 

            Tucker put fresh drinks down. Charlie looked at his drink. “Okay, the guy kicked it. So what?” He said as he lifted the drink to his mouth.

 

            “Victor had a small family. Two kids, some siblings, cousins and some other stragglers.” Conroy chuckled. “They’re quite a group. Believe me. I haven’t been his lawyer long, only about a year. But that’s long enough for me. ”

 

            “Well they should be pleased that he’s gone and the money’s available.” Smiles said, finishing his first beer.

 

            “You would think so. The fact is, Johnson, they aren’t.”

            “So they want to hire us to get dirt on each other for the court battle?” Smiles nodded. ‘Great,’ he thought sarcastically.

 

            Conroy laughed. “No they’re actually pissed off at you.”

 

            Smiles and Charlie looked hard at Conroy.

 

            Conroy lifted his Moonglow to his mouth and paused. He looked at his reflection in the bar mirror. “He left most of it to you two.”

 

*

           

Ronnie Basco looked deep into Dr. Gvood’s eyes. “Let me make this perfectly clear,” he said, “I don’t want any anesthetic!”

 

Dr. Gvood’s goblin eyes went sad. “Mr. Basco, this is going to be extremely painful and will take quite a while. We are going to have to do a root canal, a post and a complete crown.”

 

Ronnie looked at his reflection in the over hanging light. He closed his eyes. How could his father do this to him? He opened his eyes and looked at Gvood. “I don’t care how freaking painful it is.”

 

“Mr. Basco, I would really advise…” Gvood began, shaking his head.

 

“Dammit! I’m not paying you to advise!! I’m paying you to drill, poke, scrape, yank and then give me a sucker. You got it?! I don’t want to be numb! I want to be in pain and pissed off!!”

 

A few moments later, as fine dust rose like smoke from Ronnie’s mouth, he whimpered with a pained gurgle that would have sounded like ‘Johnson’ if the drill hadn’t been so loud.

 

*

            And the door opened Charlie lifted Laura off the ground and spun around. Laura shrieked in surprise that shifted to delight. Charlie lowered her into a deep kiss. As the kiss ended, Charlie placed Laura gently on the floor.

 

            Laura leaned back. “Damn cowboy! What was that for?” She  could smell and taste the rum on him. He had been drinking a little more in the last few weeks since Goblin Hill, but Laura hadn’t seen any need for concern. Yet.

 

            The words still stuck in his mouth. He had been unable to say them in the cab over. One Hundred and Seventeen million. Rich. He couldn’t say them. They wouldn’t work their way free, so he blurted; “Marry me!”

 

            Laura’s blinked slowly and stepped back. “I’m sorry? Are you feverish?”

 

            “Laura! It’s all happening. Everything I could have hoped for.”

 

            Laura stared at him as she shut the door. “Why don’t you come and sit down.”

 

            “I don’t want to sit. I don’t even know where to start.”

 

            Laura led him to the living room. “How about at the beginning. I’ll get you a drink. You start talking.”

 

            Charlie flopped down onto the couch. Laura moved into the kitchen as Charlie started. “You know Victor Basco?”

 

            Laura pulled a bottle of Moonglow from an upper cabinet. “Basco? The industrialist?”

 

            “Probably.”

 

            “I met him a couple of times. You know, at city functions and things. Not a good guy.” She poured the Glow into his glass and screwed the top back on. “Wait a minute. He’s dead. Died a little while back.”

 

            “Yep.” Came Charlie’s voice from the other room.

 

            Laura took the glass into the living room. “So what’s the excitement?”

 

            Charlie reached up and took the glass. “He left me and Smiles some money.”

 

            Laura sat down, staring at him across the top of the mountain of books and papers that littered her coffee table. “How…” Laura swallowed. “…much?”

 

            Charlie finished the drink in one swallow. “117 million.”

 

            There was a long silence as Laura looked into Charlie’s head. Charlie’s knees began to bounce like a kid waiting to open a present. Finally Laura shook her head. Her eyes narrowed until they gave her a headache. “Why?”

 

            Charlie burst from his seat. “I don’t know! But it’s legal. His family can contest it but it’s all in his will. Said my name and everything. Isn’t that great?!”

 

            Laura’s mind refused to bend around it all. “Did you solve a case for him or something?”

 

            “No. We’ve never met him.”

 

            Laura stood up. “Something’s wrong. No body leaves strangers 117 million dollars.”

 

            “Well, this guy did.”

 

            “Charlie, honey, I know this is exciting but you need to think straight. Doesn’t this seem weird to you?”

 

            Charlie stopped moving and looked hard into her. “Yes, Laura, it seems weird. But am I not due for some weird luck? Smiles is doing the same thing you are. This guy came and dumped money into our laps for no reason…” He stopped talking. His eyes widened and began to glisten with tears. A sudden flash swept through his mind.  “Laura?”

 

            She stepped close to him and took his hand. “Charlie?”

 

            He took a shallow breath. “What if he was my father?”

 

*

            Smiles sat in the darkness of the office. The unending rain drummed lethargically against the window. He sucked pensively on another cigarette. He knew something wasn’t right. He thought about how he should circle the date on his calendar and mark it as his strangest day ever. He kicked his shoes off under his desk. He leaned back and folded his hands behind his head.

 

            The whole thing stunk. He wished he could just accept it and be excited like Charlie. But Smiles knew the world didn’t work that way. His concentration was broken by a knock on the door. He looked at his watch. It was half past eleven. Instinctively he grabbed his gun and moved to the door.

 

            “Who is it?” He said through the door.

 

            A tiny voice cracked from the other side of the door. “Courier.”

 

            Smiles shrugged and slowly opened the door. He peered down at the goblin teenager who stood dripping wet outside. “Yeah?”

 

            “I have a delivery for Robert Johnson.” The kid held up a rain-dotted manila envelope. It was stuffed with something almost too big.

 

            Smiles opened the door full and signed for the envelope. He slipped the kid five bucks and chuckled to himself. Teenagers were going to break him today.

 

            He sat back down at his desk and opened the package. An unmarked video cassette slid out onto the desk. He moved to the TV and slipped the tape into the machine that still, after four years, flashed 12:00.

 

            The image of an old man appeared on the screen. An oxygen tube was attached to the old man’s nose. He looked at the operator behind the camera, and then back at the camera. He began to speak.

 

            “Mr. Johnson, if you are watching this, I am dead. My name is Victor Basco. Your father helped me broker several land deals many years ago. This is how I knew to find you. There is a mystery afoot. I’m sure you are aware of it and fairly surprised at being a wealthy man.

 

            I am being killed. I am not certain how, but I know I am being killed. A member of my family is attempting to get to my money. I have changed my will to make you and your associate heirs to the bulk of my estate. This way, no member of my family will be given anything until the murderer is flushed out. I could not send this to the police because there are financial and ethical indiscretions that will more than likely come to light that innocent members of my family would be attacked for. I trust your discretion.

 

            There is a final will. I have made certain that the final will is not legally binding until the guilty parties are brought to justice. Steven Conroy has final say depending on who is found to be guilty. I have provided that you and Mr. Pickens will be well compensated for your services.

 

            Truth be told, you could walk away right now and keep the money you have already inherited. However, if you are a man of character and ethics, you will do the right thing.

 

            I have done many questionable things in my life, Mr. Johnson. Please help me make some of my wrongs right. I know you will do the right thing.”

 

            The image flashed off and was replaced with a screaming blue. Smiles turned off the TV. He sat in his chair and began to drum his thumbs on the desk. He leaned forward and circled the date on his calendar and wrote “strangest day ever” next to it.

 

*

            Morning slipped in with a whisper. Laura’s feet slapped across the hard wood floor of her apartment as she made her way to the kitchen. As she passed the living room she saw Charlie sprawled out on the couch asleep. A half finished glass of Moonglow sat on the table. She looked out on the rain as she filled the coffee pot with water. She hated rain. This had been going on too long. She dumped the water into the maker and turned it on.

 

            Laura flopped down at her kitchen table and waited for the coffee. The table had long since ceased to function as a kitchen table. It was instead piled with notebooks, files, newspapers, computer discs and her laptop. She switched on her laptop and logged into the newspaper’s intranet.

 

            She knew that something was wrong in all this. Why would a stinking rich business man leave all his money to two people he didn’t even know? It wasn’t even a hard question. It really was just begging for an answer. She requested a search for any articles pertaining to Basco or the Basco family. After a long processing period the list of articles came back. Nearly one hundred and fifty articles dating back fifteen years.

 

            She set all the articles to print at her workstation at the paper. She’d pick them up later. She logged out of the intranet and stood up to get some coffee. She was startled to find Charlie standing behind her.

 

            “You can’t just leave it alone, can you?” He said.

 

            Laura sighed. “Charlie, something isn’t right. You shouldn’t take this money.”

 

            “I know!” He snapped. He ran his fingers through the tangled mess of his hair. “But why can’t I enjoy the feeling for a while? My life has been shit lately!” 

 

            It was like a slap in the face to Laura. She ignored it and looked at the floor. “Because it’s wrong.”

 

            “It’s like the ATM giving you too much money. Or finding a sack of cash in a field.”

 

            Laura finally yelled. “No, it’s like the head of a criminal corporation leaving 117 million big ones to two people he didn’t even know. There’s something in it for him. Even dead these people want to come out on top!” Charlie looked at his hands. “Now I’m only doing this because I love you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

 

            Charlie stood quietly. “I know.” He mumbled. Laura kissed him. “I love you too.”

 

            Laura lifted his chin with her hand. “Hey,” she said softly, “if I’m wrong, I’ll be the first to borrow a huge amount of money and get you a gift of apology.”

 

            Charlie smiled and they hugged.

 

*

            Smiles hadn’t slept and figured he looked it. The cup of coffee that spilled on his pants didn’t help matters. He stepped out of his car and walked across the street to the wrought-iron gates. He tried to protect his head from the rain with that morning’s paper. He leaned in to the security box that was mounted to a post near the gates. He pushed the large red button and waited.

 

            After a moment a voice came from the speaker. “Who is it?” Came the female voice.

 

            “Robert Johnson. I’m here to see Ronald Basco.”

 

            There was another long pause. Finally, the gates swung open and Smiles made his way up the drive toward the huge estate. The drive was very long and he kept asking himself why he didn’t bring the car. He was drenched when he finally rang the doorbell.

 

            If he had to guess, there were probably twenty rooms in this place. The entire estate was done in white stucco and orange tile. It obviously was built for sunnier days. The landscaping was overgrown and completely enclosed by a stucco wall nearly eight feet tall. Smiles, under the protection of the porch, attempted to shake the rain off of himself.

 

            The door opened. A tall redhead in her early twenties stood in the door. She wore glasses and a UBC sweatshirt and jeans. Not exactly what Smiles had expected. The woman gave him the once over and chuckled. Smiles tried desperately to straighten his tie. Finally he stopped.

 

            “You’re Johnson?” The woman chuckled.

 

            Smiles shrugged. “Yeah.”

 

            “I’m Carla Basco. Come on in. “ She opened the door wider and Smiles stepped into the huge, tiled hall. “Uh, could you take your shoes off. Ronnie will have a fit if you track the place up.” She thought. “Actually, come with me.”

 

            Smiles followed her through the side door, and what appeared to be a mudroom, to another the laundry room. She opened a free standing wardrobe and pulled out a terry cloth bathrobe. It looked like the kind they would give you at one of those weekend spas, Smiles thought. He looked at her.

 

            “Get into this and I’ll throw your stuff in the dryer.”

 

            “Oh, you don’t have to,” Smiles said, waving his hands.

 

            “Is the stuff dry clean only?”

 

            Smiles looked at his clothes. “I haven’t a clue.”

 

            “Then let me throw them in the dryer.”

 

            A moment later Smiles was in a small bathroom stripping down. He made sure to take his wallet and belt with him and to tuck his underwear into the leg of his pants. He wrapped the bathrobe around himself and tied the strap twice. He stepped out and handed the pile of wet clothes to Carla.

 

            She chuckled, threw them into the dryer, and turned it on. She motioned with her head and Smiles followed her back out into the hall. They made their way down the hall to a large wooden door. Carla opened the door to reveal a large study.

 

            “Ronnie will be down in a minute. Can I get you something to drink?” Carla asked. Smiles, suddenly feeling like an eight year old at a new school, simply shook his head no. “Well, your clothes shouldn’t take long. I will put them by the door.” With that she left .

 

            Smiles had looked around the room for a bit when he heard the door open.

 

            Ronnie Basco stepped into the room. He was dressed in a cardigan sweater and nice slacks. Smiles suddenly felt more out of place. He put forth his hand to shake Ronnie’s. Ronnie didn’t shake his hand.

 

            “Mr. Johnson, please excuse me if I don’t like you very much.” Ronnie seemed to have something in his mouth. “And please excuse the cotton. I had some dental work last night, so I may be hard to understand, and slightly loopy from the medication. Other than that, I am in complete control of my dislike for you.” Ronnie flopped down behind the desk.

 

            “Mr. Basco, I can appreciate your position.” Smiles sat in the chair across the desk from Ronnie. “I can imagine that my surprise at all of this is nothing like yours.”

 

            “You’re damn right. This is a catastrophe.”

 

            “Please understand, though, that this is a surprise to me.”

 

            Ronnie threw his arms up in sarcasm. “Great! So you’ll contest the will and give the rightful heirs their due. That’s fantastic.”

 

            “Not exactly.”

 

            “That’s what I thought.” Ronnie stood up and began to pace. “Why the hell would some blue collar shmoe give up a 117 million dollar free ride? That’s the brilliance of my father.” He leaned in close to Smiles. “Let me let you in on a little secret. My father was a “Grade A” ass! He despised everybody but himself, and that’s why he did this. One last shaft up the backside from the grave. He knew how powerful his money was. Most of those idiots gave him free access to their posteriors because he owned them. He controlled them all on credit. He dangled the food and they’d grab their ankles.”

 

            “Didn’t you?”

 

            “No! I didn’t. Believe it or not, until the end I had hoped that we could have a normal father-son relationship. Even after what he did to me.”

 

            “What did he do to you?”

 

            Ronnie moved back to his chair. “You ever see the show Parting Shots?” Smiles shook his head. “I’m not surprised. It was only on for half a season. It was my big break. I have been acting since middle school and my father hated it. He believed that I should take over the family business when he died, but I insisted on being an actor. I landed the lead in Parting Shots. We had a killer, proven writing team. The audiences loved it. However, my father never watched the show. Instead, to prove a point and demonstrate his will, he pumped endless dollars into a show on the competing network that aired opposite us.”

 

            Smiles nodded. “Not very nice.”

 

            “No. In the end his money paid off, and the other show went to the top of the ratings.  We got the axe after eleven episodes.”

 

            Smiles wished he had a notebook. He looked at Ronnie. “What about Carla? How does she feel about everything?”

 

            Ronnie chuckled. “Carla couldn’t care less about money.” Ronnie smiled to himself. “She’s the best person I know. She and my father seemed to exist with no friction but little contact. She tolerates the rest of the family, but spends no time with us…” He corrected himself. “Them.” Ronnie cleared his thoughts and sighed. “Mr. Johnson, I appreciate that this is not your fault. However, you are the physical manifestation of my father’s spite, and I can’t get past that right now. “

 

            Smiles nodded entertaining the thought of reaching across the desk and slapping the little shit.

 

*

            After Charlie went home to shower, Laura changed her mind about going in to the office. She had the enormous pile of papers couriered over to her place. She began to pile the articles pertaining to the Bascos around her coffee table. Each pile represented a different topic: press release, obituary, society pages, gossip, etc. After nearly three hours she sat back on her couch and stared at the mess. As she pondered where to begin, she went and made herself a fresh pot of coffee.

 

            She slipped into her sweats as the coffee began to drip. As she walked into the hall she was startled by a knock on her door. She opened the door to find Smiles standing on the other side.

 

            “Hi.” Smiles said sheepishly.

 

            “Hey.” Laura opened the door wider to invite him in. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

 

            Smiles stepped in. “Is Charlie here?”  Laura shook her head. “I haven’t been able to reach him all day.”

 

            “He was here until a few hours ago. He said that he had a report to write for you and he wanted to take a shower. Coffee?”

 

            “Sure. I’m assuming that he told you about the money.”

 

            “Oh yes. We had quite an argument about it, actually.”

 

            They stepped into the kitchen and Laura poured him a cup.

 

            “Thanks. He really wants the money, doesn’t he.”

 

            Laura leaned against her sink. “You could say that. He knows it’s wrong to take it, but the desire is strong.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Do you have any idea why Basco would leave this money to you? Charlie thinks that Basco might have been his father, and this is his way of making up for giving Charlie away.”

 

            Smiles looked deep into his coffee. He sighed. “Poor kid. It’s a retainer.”

 

            Laura blinked at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

            Smiles shrugged. “I got a video last night.  It was made by Victor Basco, probably about the same time he changed his will. He claimed someone was killing him and this was his way of hiring me posthumously.”

 

            “If he thought he was being killed, why didn’t he go to the police?”

 

            “He said that the police would uncover other things that he didn’t want brought to light, stuff that would ruin innocent people close to him. Slightly noble. Anyway, there is a second will that this lawyer Conroy can bring to light once the killer is flushed out.”

 

            “Like a dying puppet master trying to keep a hold on the strings.”

 

            Smiles chuckled. “Could you possibly pull up all the articles you can on Basco and his family? They might give me a place to start.” Laura walked to the living room door and motioned. Smiles poked his head around the corner.

 

            “Way ahead of you.”

 

            Smiles looked at the stacks of paper.  “Crap.” He said quietly.

 

*

            The old man with green eyes had been soaked for days. The constant rain had made him take a few more risks than usual in his vigil over Charlie. The night before he had actually ventured into Tucker’s to get out of the rain.  He still couldn’t believe what the lawyer had said.

The prospect of great wealth could potentially make protecting Charlie from a distance a bit cushier.

 

            The back of the old man’s mind had even jokingly toyed with the idea of becoming Charlie’s butler. A funny thought, straight out of a movie. He could tell, however, by Charlie’s demeanor that the money was not going to be a good thing. Even now Charlie sat in his car outside the Basco-Fletcher Tower staring up at the building.

 

            He couldn’t help but want the best for Charlie, especially after the events of the past months. He remembered the fear of watching the horrible events of Goblin Hill, and the Lake Monster attack. He wanted so badly to intervene, but circumstances made it impossible. He couldn’t do anything without giving himself away. Charlie was left to deal with those things alone.

 

            He had done extremely well, but there was still such a long road ahead. Longer than Charlie could ever dream.  ‘The boy should have something soft.’ The old man thought. He watched as Charlie stared up at the tower.

 

            Charlie sat for a long time. He thought of all the things he could provide for Laura. He thought about the possibility of Basco being his long lost father. Many thoughts. His train of thought was broken by a tapping on his window. He blinked and looked out.

 

            A young man, little older than Charlie, stood in the pouring rain looking in. Charlie rolled down his window.

 

            “Yeah?” Charlie said.

 

            “You Pickens?” The guy asked.

 

            Charlie nodded. A moment later Charlie felt a fist connect with his jaw.

 

            He scrambled from the car as the guy hit him again. Charlie stumbled back into the open car door. As the assailant moved closer, Charlie swept his legs out from under him. The young man fell to the wet pavement. The young detective jumped on him and punched him in the face. The guy struggled as Charlie’s knee pressed into his chest.

 

            “Who are you?”

 

            The guy spat in Charlie’s face and managed to knee him in the back, which sent Charlie sprawling. Charlie scrambled to his feet and spun hard to face