Liars table, p.18
Liars' Table, page 18
“One hundred nineteen thousand five hundred dollars.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the questioning look from C.J. I had never mentioned the money I used at the nursing home, so he had expected a different answer.
“A number the sheriff no doubt said to all you fellows sitting around Abe’s store, swapping gossip like you do every morning.”
“No, sir, he only said over a hundred grand. And we don’t gossip.” I shook it off. Didn’t matter right now. My only job was to convince Brawley to help us. “The money was in a black trash bag. The bills were bundled in those color bands the banks use. Three of the bundles were ten thousand each, made up of hundreds.”
“Still details the sheriff might have said in his desire to court votes from you fellows.”
“Except if you ask, you will find he never said that.” I looked over at C.J. to make sure he was still backing me up. I was about to reveal another detail I hadn’t shared with him. “A handwritten note was included, scribbled on the back of an envelope from the electric company. I told you to make sure the money went to those who needed it most. If you want, I can write that out so you can see it was my chicken scratch.”
Brawley nodded slowly and leaned back in his chair, apparently satisfied with my answers. C.J.’s glare burned into the side of my head, so I guessed he wasn’t satisfied, but I could deal with that later. The minister asked, “Do you want to tell me how you came into that kind of money? That’s a lot of hard-earned dollars to stuff into your mattress or bury in your backyard.”
“It wasn’t hard-earned, which is why I didn’t want it. I…” I nodded my head toward C.J. “We found it, and it would’ve been wrong of us to keep it.”
“I see.” He steepled his hands again, tapping the index fingers together in thought. “If it’s wrong of you to keep it, why do you want it back?”
“We don’t. The owner does. When I dropped it in that box out front, I didn’t know who it belonged to. Now I do. I need to give it back to him.”
“I see,” he repeated, still tapping those impossibly long fingers. “And did he earn this money in a respectable manner? My experience is people who carry large sums of cash are rarely the most godlike people.”
I had expected this question and planned to lie in my answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If Brawley didn’t trust me, he wouldn’t give me the money. “I wish it wasn’t true, but he is decidedly not a godlike person.”
“And would that have anything to do with the fresh bruises on your face?”
I paused and touched my cheeks and nose. I hadn’t thought about how I looked and wasn’t sure how to answer. “He was persuasive.”
“Hmmmm.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “So the money came from devilish means?”
I shrugged. “I don’t actually know, but I suspect so. But it’s not my job to judge, right, Reverend?”
“No, of course not. But it is my job to protect my flock from all sorts of dangers. Is this man here in Miller County? Do his money-making opportunities tempt our citizens?”
“No, sir, he’s from out of state. If I give him the money, he goes back to where he came from and leaves us alone. That’s all I want.”
“Fair enough.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “How much of this should I tell our good sheriff in order to get the money back? The whole reason I gave it to him was because I was afraid it was tainted by evil. Now you are telling me my worst fears are true. You can surely see my quandary.”
“Yes, sir, but I think you can see my quandary as well. I gave you money that wasn’t mine to give, so you could say I stole it. Unintentionally, but it happened, and I need to return it. The sheriff’s involvement could complicate things, so I would appreciate it if you would tell the sheriff as little as possible.”
“You want me to lie?”
“No, sir. Just maybe not tell him everything.”
“Mr. Webb, I’m sure you understand how a man in my position might consider withholding information akin to lying.”
I couldn’t argue the definition of sin with a man of the cloth, but nor could I afford the delay that involving the sheriff would mean. I looked Brawley in the eye. “Isn’t something said in confession sacred? You can’t just share it with the police?”
“Not quite.” He smiled. “But I work hard to keep my confidences and try to do the right thing at the same time.”
“When I give this man his money, he will leave the sheriff’s jurisdiction—and our community—and not come back. That seems to be the right thing for us. The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can all relax.”
Tap. Tap. Tap. Brawley’s eyes twinkled as he leaned forward. “I tell the sheriff the true owner has been found, and I will see to it the money is returned. By doing so, I help you absolve yourself of your sin. But that, Mr. Webb, does require a penance from you.”
I was dumbfounded. “A what?”
“A penance. An act you commit to repent from your sin.” He nodded toward C.J. “And from you as well, Mr. Duncan. I suspect you are mightily involved despite your silence, despite your occasional looks of shock that I can only assume implies Mr. Webb knows a bit more than you. If you didn’t have a role in this, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”
C.J. and I exchanged glances and shrugged shoulders. What else could we do? I asked, “And what would our penance be?”
“The only way you can truly repent is to be here in the house of our Lord, am I right? Something the two of you have been most lacking in the last few years. Both of you used to be quite regular in attendance, I suspect because your wives cared more about your souls than you do. When your wife died, Mr. Duncan, and your wife fell ill, Mr. Webb, your attendance—oh, let’s say—slipped. Quite dramatically. That needs to change.”
“You want us to come to church?”
C.J. spoke up. “Both of us?”
“All three of you, because young Wyatt needs guidance, too, I am sure. Each and every Sunday. And not in the back, but down toward the front, so I can see your eager faces.” He placed his hand on the desk telephone. “Do we have a deal?”
At that point, I would have promised anything, so I nodded.
Brawley smiled and dialed the phone. “Sheriff Newman, I have excellent news. The donor of that money has come forward and identified himself, though he wishes to remain anonymous to the community. He has provided me explicit instructions on its dispensation. I’ve become convinced his plan is to the benefit of the community—therefore I would like to get those funds back forthwith.”
For a man who didn’t approve of lying, his explanation was about the smoothest thing I had ever heard.
The preacher listened intently on the phone and smiled. “No, sir, you know I can’t do that. A man trying to do the right thing doesn’t need everyone knowing his business.”
After listening a bit longer, he said, “I understand. I’ll be by your office then and pick it up.”
He hung up the phone and spread his hands wide. “You can relax. It’s all arranged.”
I leaned back in my chair and exhaled. Relief flowed through my body. “Thank you. That’s such good news.”
“Now, if you’ll stop by around ten tomorrow morning, I’ll have it ready for you.”
All the air in the room evaporated. I struggled to find my voice. “Tomorrow? Can’t it happen today?”
“Oh, no, gentlemen. The sheriff secured the money in the evidence lockers.”
“He can’t just get it out of there?”
“No. First of all, you’re assuming he’s at the office, which he isn’t. That was his cell phone I called. But second, he must manage the property records carefully because the lawyers eat that chain of custody stuff up, so they have strict rules for access. He will direct his team to prepare the proper paperwork, but it’s the end of the workday. He will pull it first thing tomorrow. Keeps it all neat and legal, which I’m sure is quite important to all of us.”
30
“Now what?”
C.J.’s question echoed in my head as I stood next to Wyatt in my driveway, my hands shoved in the pockets of my jeans while I stared at the range of mountains surrounding the valley. Those looming peaks had smothered me as a child, a barrier preventing me from escaping to the wider world. Adventure and opportunity waited beyond them, at least it seemed like it until I left home. Once the military was done with me and I returned to Millerton, though, I began to see those barriers as keeping the bad out and our valley safe.
Like I had, Jessica left our safe haven as a teenager. Rather than being repelled by the bad in the world, though, she wallowed in it until it killed her. Bringing Wyatt back to live with us had protected the boy from some of the bad in the world and allowed him to become a decent young man. We were safe until evil, unfortunately, had slipped back into Miller County with Noah. I made the mistake of following his trail back across those ranges and brought the bad back to us again.
I needed a way to chase it away permanently. Returning the money that night would have worked, but now I was empty-handed. I could see only one path forward. To miss the meeting in Coogan’s Cove would only invite the villainy to stay in our peaceful valley. To go without the money would probably result in disaster, but what choice did I have? It was the only option. “I go to Coogan’s Cove. I tell the tattooed man the truth.”
C.J. replied, “The truth never entertained anyone. I’d rather make up a good lie.”
“You’re the storyteller. If you have a suggestion that might work, I’m all ears.”
He kicked the gravel in the driveway with the toe of his boot. “I’m working on it.”
“When he realizes I don’t have his money, he won’t care about any story. The only chance I have is to convince him we’ll pay it back.”
Wyatt leaned against the car. “Then you can’t go empty-handed. You’ve got to give him something.”
I reached into my front pocket and pulled out a money clip. I counted the attached bills and announced, “I’ve got forty-three dollars. Probably have as much in change in a Mason jar in the house.” I scratched the side of my head. “Got a couple of hundred in my rainy-day fund stuck inside Shelby’s old Bible too.”
C.J. dug into his overalls and extracted a well-worn leather wallet as thick as his hands. Papers overflowed from the sides. From hundreds of viewings over the years, I knew the plastic sleeves contained well-worn photographs of fish, trophy deer, and Wanda. He might talk as if those three held an equal place with him, but the wallet flopped open on its own to Wanda photos. His fingers pushed aside the receipts and notes and counted the bills. “Twenty-seven dollars, but it’s all yours. We can stop by my house too. I’ve got a few hundred dollars in an old coffee can in my kitchen.”
Wyatt slung his arm over my shoulders. “I don’t hide my money in coffee cans or books, so I’ll go to the ATM in town. Take out whatever they allow. If we pile everything together, maybe we have a grand or two to offer him tonight.”
I looked down at my feet. “I can add another four.” My throat felt thick as I confessed what I had done with the money for the nursing home. Their response surprised me because I expected shock or even anger. Spending that money for Shelby’s comfort felt like using it for myself, but they didn’t see it that way. Wyatt’s eyes even teared up as he said, “We’ll get her a TV when this is done, Grandpa.”
C.J. asked, “Do you think it’ll be enough to convince him to wait another day?”
“Who knows? I’ll do what I can.”
“We… We’ll do what we can,” Wyatt said.
“No. Me alone.” I stepped back, creating space between us. “I can’t put the two of you at any more risk.”
“He might kill you,” C.J. said.
My knees weakened to hear my fears said out loud. “Better than him killing all three of us.”
Wyatt shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“I thought you said he would kill for this kind of money.”
“Of course he would.” He looked up and smiled. “But he knows he can’t kill us all.”
I ran my fingers through my hair as I tried to figure out his logic. “Why not? What stops him?”
The grin on his face widened. “You’ve got to think like he thinks. What’s his biggest fear?”
“Same as ours. Some weirdo called Rudy the Roach might kill him.”
“Exactly. If he kills us, he signs his own death warrant. Think about it. Is Reverend Brawley going to give the tattooed man the money? Would the sheriff? If he kills us, he has to explain to Rudy that he killed the last chance to get the money back.”
I nodded slowly, processing the logic. “But once he has the money, what stops him from killing us then?”
“Nothing, except I don’t think that’s who he is.”
“He killed Noah.”
“Are you sure? Maybe he just said that. Like I said earlier, things like that make you fear him more.” Wyatt looked wistfully to the west, in the direction of Knoxville. “I think it takes a lot out of a man to murder. He’s trying to escape, and I can’t imagine what killing three people would do to him. Once he has the money, we don’t matter anymore.”
I walked across the lawn and sat in a chair under the shade tree. Belle rested her head in my lap. I dutifully scratched behind her ears. “Say you’re right. Why don’t I go alone? Doesn’t it accomplish the same thing?”
Wyatt settled into the grass beside me and crossed his legs. “He’s already proven he can lose his temper and hurt you, right? And if he does, he still has us to come after. But if we’re all three there, he can’t. It makes it all or nothing, and he can’t play that game.”
He was right, as a group we were all safer, but was that worth the risk to Wyatt and my best friend? “I don’t like it.”
“There’s nothing to like about it, Grandpa, but here’s the deal. I do know these types of people. I know what they care about. The money. That’s it. We go see him tonight. We tell him exactly what’s going on. He’ll be mad, but my bet is he goes back home because he doesn’t really have any other choice.”
“Why wouldn’t he stay?”
“Right now, Rudy trusts him.” Wyatt shrugged. “Well, trusts him as much as he trusts anyone. But if he’s gone overnight, away from his family, maybe Rudy starts wondering why he’s disappearing so much. Figures out there’s missing money. The tattooed man has to keep up appearances, so he’s got to go home. He can always come back if we don’t show, and we all know it.”
“He’s going to believe we’ll get the money in the morning, drive to Knoxville, and deliver it right to him?”
“I think he will. He won’t like it, but he’d rather do that than risk going to jail on a murder charge or get killed by Rudy the Roach.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I can’t, of course, but what’s one day more or less? As long as his boss doesn’t find out, he’ll end up okay. When we give him the money tomorrow, it’s all over.”
I looked across the field and sighed. After thinking for several minutes, I nodded and stood. As I reached into my pocket for my keys, Wyatt grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”
“To have dinner with your grandmother. I never miss. And I’m certainly not going to skip tonight just in case it’s the last time I ever see her.”
31
I paused at the front door of the nursing home to calm my shaking nerves. With a deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face and entered the building. I nodded at the same faces I saw every night, warmed by the smiles and waves sent in my direction.
The building hummed with late-afternoon activity. Residents were returning from events to get ready for dinner. The low ringing of a telephone at a nursing station echoed in the hall. The canned laughter from a sitcom floated from the dayroom, the seated residents chuckling along with the characters. The click of keyboards from the computer room echoed their symphony.
I froze midstride. Why was I hearing so much noise from a normally quiet facility?
I stuck my head into the dayroom and looked at the half-dozen smiling residents scattered about the room in the glow of the TV. The day before, people had been sitting in here reading. Had that TV been working yesterday? I thought it wasn’t, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it had just been turned off.
Coincidence.
I leaned my back against the hallway wall as my nerves tingled with anxiety. Across the way, the glass-walled computer room hummed with activity. A half dozen residents sat in front of computer screens, happily typing away in the glow of the monitors. A spare computer waited for the next visitor. No one stood in line at the door. The machines didn’t look new, but they were all working. The day before, there had only been three.
Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.
Bobby had assured me he couldn’t move this fast. There had to be some other explanation. A government grant. A generous donor.
But that didn’t make sense. Bobby would have known about that and told me when I handed him the money.
I walked briskly down the hallway, doing my best to look and feel calm, though panic exploded inside. My pulse raced.
As I moved deeper into the wings with bedridden patients, my pace quickened. I passed the secured entrance to the dementia unit in a near jog to the rear of the building. Before I reached it, the employee access door opened as a pair of clerical staff members exited with their purses under their arms and headed for the parking lot and home. They didn’t say a word to me as I barged past them and into the hallway beyond. Out of breath, I arrived at the maintenance room door, rapped my knuckles on it in two quick bursts, and pushed it open.
Bobby was closing up his tool cabinets for the day and startled at the sudden noise. When he saw me, a grin broke across his face. “Our unsung hero. I have the best news ever.”
