Jason Deas - Benny James 03 - Brushed Away (13 page)

“OK.”

“How much is your monthly payment?”

Without missing a beat the kid answered, “$376.52”

“I’m guessing the car isn’t
brand
new?”

“No. Only has 52,000 miles on it.”

“Sounds like you got a great deal,” Benny lied. “How would you like to put one of those payments in your back pocket?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Let’s just say the ice cream business doesn’t work out for you and you find yourself looking for work. Unable to work you will be unable to collect a paycheck. With no paycheck, you’re going to miss your payment and get that dreaded belt your loving father was talking about.”

“Yeah.”

“What if you had an envelope with $376.52 in it in case that ever happened. You wouldn’t miss your payment and you would avoid the belt.”

“Well, how would I get an envelope with that much money in it?”

Benny smiled. He tried to over-exaggerate the smile, but the kid didn’t pick up on the hint.

“Did I say something funny?” the kid asked.

“No.” Benny thought he was perfect for the job he had in mind as he was too stupid to connect any dots, no matter how easy they might be to connect. On a sad note, Benny knew the kid would never own the Camero outright and hoped he enjoyed it for the short time the bank would allow him to drive it around.

Chapter 15

When Benny finally made it to Uncle Karl’s, Karl had already devoured his two ice cream breakfast. Benny wondered who he would be today.

 Benny knocked on the open studio door and entered to find Uncle Karl rubbing his chin in thought.

“Let me ask you a question,” Uncle Karl said turning to Benny.

“OK.”

Uncle Karl walked toward Benny with a particularly familiar trot. He slowed as he neared him. His gaze tightened and his mouth tensed. His eyes focused and he stood still.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know about the situation.” Uncle Karl’s stare did not waver.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Benny tried.

Uncle Karl kept his gaze on Benny and pulled his hand to his hip as if he were reaching for a gun. “I don’t like losing my cool, but you’re about out of chances to stay on my good side.” Uncle Karl cocked his head and Benny felt a wave of déjà vu.

“What?”

“Listen. We can either do this the hard way or my way.”

It clicked. Uncle Karl was Benny. Benny wondered what would happen if he gave it right back to him.

Benny put his hand on his own hip and inched his fingers up toward the holster position. “I don’t think we’re understanding each other, and I’m afraid things are about to turn ugly here,” Benny said.

“I live for ugly.”

“Me too.”

The two men lunged toward each other. Benny was surprised by Uncle Karl’s strength as he threw him backward into one of the posts supporting the bell atop the roof. Benny grabbed at the air as he fell, only to clutch the hanging rope. As he bounced on the ground the rope tightened around his fist and the bell rang loudly, disturbing the quiet morning.

Benny popped up as Uncle Karl hovered above him. Benny hit him like a lineman making a block and Uncle Karl tumbled backward into a stack of canvases. Not wanting to hurt the old man, Benny paused as Uncle Karl’s eyes adjusted and flashed. Uncle Karl grabbed a long wooden paintbrush on the ground next to him with two hands and snapped it over his knee producing a skewer with a ragged tip. Not waiting for him to act, Benny dove on top of him and pinned his arms to the ground. With wild eyes, Uncle Karl inhaled and flexed as if he were about to spit in Benny’s face. Benny, still holding Uncle Karl’s hands on the ground, pulled his head back and head butted him directly in the nose.

Uncle Karl screamed in pain as Angel came bolting through the door of the studio.

“I heard the bell, what’s the …”

Benny took two steps back and held his hands up. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Uncle Karl continued screaming as blood gushed from his nose. “Bendy is a bad, bad man.” Uncle Karl changed personalities again.

“I can explain,” Benny said to Angel.

“I’m sure you can, Mr. James. Before you do though, can you run into the house and get my mother and a wet wash cloth?”

“Certainly,” Benny said, sprinting toward the house.

Opening the front door, Benny tried not to sound too urgent as he yelled, “Nina!” Nothing. Benny took a few more steps into the old house and tried again. “Nina!” Again, nothing. Feeling the urgency of the moment, Benny hurried back to where he remembered her studio was and threw the door open. Nina barely noticed the intrusion as she was deep in thought, hovering over a painting on the floor below her.

“Nina,” Benny tried again.

She turned to him and he could see in her eyes and face that she hadn’t slept in days. She probably wouldn’t have heard a jet plane if it crashed into the other end of her studio. She was zonked and in some sort of zone.

“We need you outside.”

She looked like she was still dreaming. Benny looked to the floor before running back outside. She had been dropping sand onto a canvas filled with numbers. The numbers were the metal kind one could buy for their mailbox and screw to the side. They had obviously been glued on and painted over numerous times. Nina dropped her bag of sand and followed Benny.

Back outside, Uncle Karl was up and didn’t remember anything of the confrontation he had earlier with Benny. Blood still flowed from his nose. Benny walked toward him and put a wet washcloth from the house to his nose. He didn’t seem to remember having the previous battle with Benny and let him take him into his care.

“For taking care to me I give you one thousand tomatoes.”

Nina seemed to have snapped out of it and looked to Benny for answers.

“He’s Red,” Benny whispered to her.

“Bendy, me not liking this blood.”

“I know, buddy. It will be gone in just a few more minutes. Can you hold this on your nose?”

“Me can.”

“Thanks. Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”

Uncle Karl sat in the bean bag chair on the floor and Benny motioned with his head for the girls to follow him outside.

Angel asked, “What the hell was going on in there?” It looked like you were going to kill him!”

“It wasn’t what it looked like. When I got here he was acting like me and he confronted me and attacked.”

“He’s getting worse,” Nina said. “He seems to be switching more often now than he ever has. When it started he was switching every few weeks. Now he seems to switch every few days.”

“Has he been taking his meds?” Benny asked.

“I don’t know,” Nina confessed. “Ever since the first murder happened I haven’t slept well. And now that I have a real opportunity to make some money with this interest in Tilley’s local art, all I do is work in the studio.”

“Is that why you’re making the piece I saw on the floor with the numbers? Trying to capitalize on the ones from the murder scenes?”

“Yes, and I’m not ashamed to say it either.” Nina’s face began turning red and her breathing quickened. “You’ve been in the house. You’ve seen what a disgrace it is—maybe I could make enough to get a new roof. Maybe I could make enough to fix up a room or two and at least begin to repair the last thing my family owns. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a painting to finish.” Nina stomped back into the house.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Angel said.

“I probably deserved it. I beat up your Uncle and put your mother on my list of murder suspects.”

Angel laughed. “I guess you do deserve it. I’ve actually been in charge of making sure Uncle Karl takes his medications. You have to trick him into taking them. I tried getting the ice cream truck driver to put it in his ice cream every day, but I don’t think he understood what I was asking. He just kept talking about a Camero and asking for my phone number.”

“Yeah, I spoke to him earlier and I don’t think he would be able to handle that.”

Uncle Karl came out the studio door and handed Angel the bloodied washcloth. “Must have spilled some red paint,” he said, handing it to Angel.

“You must have.”

“I think I’m getting a headache.” He rubbed his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

“Do you want me to get you something for that?”

“Oh no. I know your tricks. You’ll pretend it’s headache medicine and it’ll really be that medicine Dr. Walton wants me to take.”

“And tell me again why you don’t like to take it?”

“It takes away my creativity.”

Benny tried to hide his laugh, but his cheeks puffed and gave him away.

“What?” Uncle Karl asked. “An artist lives through his creativity.”

“I think you would be extremely creative either way,” Benny said. “But let’s get to what I came here for and I’ll be on my way.”

Angel started to turn to go into the house.

“Angel,” Benny called. “I’d like to ask you too if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. I probably should check on Mother in a minute.”

“Of course. But while you’re here, what do you know about Erick Frederickson?”

“Little E?” Angel asked.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“I’ve heard lots about him, but I’ve never met him. Growing up in Tilley it would be hard not to have heard some of the stories about him. It’s been a while since I heard one though.”

“Thanks, Angel. Why don’t you go check on your mother now.”

Angel turned to go and stopped. “Do you think you could just forget about her little outburst? I still think the two of you might hit it off under different circumstances.”

“Sure,” Benny said. “Consider it already forgotten.”

Benny turned his attention to Uncle Karl and immediately noticed fear in his eyes.

“Is he coming back? I don’t have any money. I don’t. I swear I don’t.”

“He’s not coming back. He’s dead.”

Benny tried to gauge Uncle Karl’s reaction.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Benny saw relief.

“Why don’t we go inside the studio and let me ride that horse of yours again and you can tell me all about him.”

“OK. Can I wear the cowboy hat, though?”

“I guess so.”

Chapter 16

Benny’s houseboat looked as though it had been decorated like the most luxurious of homes. Nothing about it besides the slight swaying said boat. Even before he sold his house to Red, when he claimed he only used the houseboat as his office, the designer bed and his favorite pillow told a different story.

Benny tossed his keys on the kitchen island and pulled open one of the doors on the giant fridge. He smiled as he remembered one of the first times Rachael had been on the boat. She had puzzled over how large the refrigerator was and how he’d managed to get it through the door. He looked up at the skylight he had installed after the hole had been cut in the roof to drop in the giant cooler. He tried to forget the thought and grabbed a beer.

With one tilt he finished half the bottle and breathed out a sigh consisting of four stressful days. Once again he was back in the game he came to Tilley to disappear from—and he liked it. Faces and names and places swam around his brain as he tried to put all the pieces together. Benny felt the tingle, the rush, and he rolled his neck as the tension popped and cracked.

Benny spied the answering machine and noticed the flashing red light, signaling a new message. His heart hoped it would be Rachael, but his mind told him it wasn’t. She was gone.

And he was wrong. It was her.

“Benny,” she began, “I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you. I may have made the second biggest mistake of my life by quitting my job this morning, but I did. I’m coming home on the next flight and I’m going to beg you to take me back. If you don’t, I’ll understand, but at least I’ll have tried.” She started crying and hung up.

Benny hadn’t moved since the first whisper of her voice. In disbelief he reached out his hand and pushed the play button again. This time as he listened, he laughed and danced in place.

When the message ended he flew out the door and up the dock toward the office to tell Donny. He needed to celebrate and knew Donny would be just the one to feel his elation.

Benny busted in the door. Donny had his head in the bait refrigerator counting worms.

“She’s coming home!” Benny screamed.

Donny popped up and smacked his head on the top of the fridge.

“What? Tell me you ain’t kidding?”

“She quit. Rachael’s coming home!”

Donny screamed like he had just won the largest lottery jackpot in state history. “She loves us! She loves us!” Donny began a happy dance the likes of which Benny had never seen. Benny began a dance of his own as Donny came around the counter still dancing and jumped into Benny’s arms. Tears poured from Donny’s eyes as he trembled and Benny just laughed and laughed.

“That’s what happens when you come to this town,” Donny said rubbing the top of his head. “You can’t forget us. We crawl right up under your skin and stay whether we’re wanted or not.”

Benny shook his head and said, “You think she might be coming back for me?”

Donny looked perplexed. He scratched his head as though he were deep in thought. Finally he began bobbing his head up and down as he said, “Maybe.”

“I’m going back to the boat and I’m going to try to call her back.”

“Tell her I said to hurry.”

“I will.”

As Benny emerged from the office the evening looked different. The setting sun had more colors than before. The air smelled sweeter, and felt warmer. There was a buzz in the air that had not been there before. He felt like a school boy, in love for the first time.

As he neared his houseboat he noticed the door was open. He didn’t remember leaving it open but didn’t remember closing it either. He noticed a speedboat travelling faster than allowed out of the marina and he knew something was wrong.

Picking up a wooden oar from the dock, he inched toward his boat and listened. Aside from the motorboat speeding off into the distance, there weren’t any other sounds. Peeking his head into the doorway of his home, Benny didn’t immediately notice anything awry. The door to his bedroom was closed, and he knew for a fact he always left the door open to let air circulate. Carefully, he opened the bedroom door, readied with the oar to strike. He at least expected to find another piece of twisted art. Nothing. He checked the bathroom. Nothing. The closets. Nothing. And even strange places like inside the fridge and oven. Nothing.