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After a halfway decent night’s sleep, I awake with a feeling of urgency. I don’t have much of an appetite so I get started right away, leaving Mike asleep on the couch in the living room, a twelve-gauge Remington pump shotgun on the floor next to him.
First thing on my list is a visit to cellular network provider, where I find a sizeable deposit solves all problems.
Next I drive out to Tommy Boudreau’s for some serious discussion.
Tommy and I drink a few beers and smoke a couple joints then go outside and blow stuff up with old C-4, black powder and various other homemade explosives Tommy has whipped up in his spare time.
And who said military training has no application in real life?
Blowing shit up is a hobby Tommy’s had for a long time. He’s a real whiz. He can load up objects of all sizes and shapes, from one-inch pipe bombs to bridge-blowing wads of C-4.
I offer him ten grand to help me carry out my plan to save Mike.
He says he’d rather have a percentage of the take.
I tell him there isn’t any take and explain the whole deal.
“Give my ten grand to the grandkid’s mother,” he says. “If there’s any profit to be made, I’ll get my share. I know you, Keith.”
“The only profit here is that my kid and his family get to stay alive. At least I hope so.”
“I ain’t gonna believe you don’t have a scam going down, Waverly,” Tommy says. “All that shit at the bar the other night about throwing a bucket of shit before you die—one last hurrah and all that bullshit—you were setting me up, weren’t you?”
“I was serious when I said those things, Tommy, but now I’m not so sure. I didn’t know about all this shit at the time. Meeting my family has changed my thinking, I suppose. You don’t even have to be there, man. Just rig a few things up for me or show me how to do it.”
“I can do that. There are a few wrinkles I can show you.”
“Great. And one more thing: You ever hear from Ricky and Lyle anymore?”
“Once in a while. Once a year or so. I usually stop in and see them when I’m in the Cities.”
“Things still the same down there?”
“Pretty much. They’ll still do just about anything to make a buck, if that’s what you mean.”
“Think they could move twenty thousand hits of Ecstasy and a few pounds of weed?”
“Probably. There’s always a lot of shit going on there when I visit. Seems like the connections are still there, such as they are. Those that haven’t died or found the Lord.”
“Think you could get a hold of them and tell ‘em to call me on my cell phone?”
“Can do.”
The sun is sinking down the horizon when I leave Tommy’s. I’m tired and half in the bag but I suck it up and drive out to Poplar as a blanket of stars covers the sky.
I drive right up to the farmhouse and Jan comes out the front door. The way she stares at me I can tell she’s a little put off by my unannounced visit. We stand outside on the front porch with the mosquitoes and I try to explain the current situation and how it came to be. I try hard to soften the blows and make it sound like Mike is just an innocent dupe but I think she knows him too well to totally believe me.
Somehow I’m able to convince her I’ve got the situation under control. That everything will turn out hunky-dory. My plan is a reach, a shot in the dark, but I tell it to her like it’s a sure thing, guaranteed to succeed. She sheds a few tears and a few angry looks pass across her face but she seems to fall for my experienced line of bull.
I sense she’s a gamer and make my proposal:
“Jan, this part is very important. These people have agreed to accept a payback for the stolen, or should I say, missing, goods. They’ve agreed to leave us alone if we pay them off. To make this work, I need two things from you: One, I need to use this house as a meeting place. These Chicago boys are mighty suspicious by nature, and we need a place that’s remote but out in the open. The second thing I need from you is that you take the kids and get out of here. At least until everything is under control. I got you a reservation for a month at a fantastic resort in the Wisconsin Dells. Everything there is paid for, and I want to give you ten thousand for fun money.”
She looks at the envelope filled with cash I’ve just pulled from the pocket of my shorts, then stares into my eyes. “Is this some of that drug money?” she asks. “Cause if it is, I don’t want it.”
“No, this is my hard-earned cash. I sweated for hours over a blackjack table for this.”
“I can’t take your money, Keith. But I guess I can take the kids to the resort. They’ll love it.”
“Please take the cash, Jan. Spend it on my grandchildren, if nothing else. I really need to give you guys something. I love those kids. And besides that, I owe it to my, ah... family. My bloodline. Please take it. There's plenty more where that came from, and it’ll make me feel better.”
“Well, all right, then,” she says, shaking her head, her eyes with a dull glow. “I’d hate to stand in the way of someone trying to buy off his guilt.”
“Ouch. Right hook to the heart.”
“Sorry,” she says, her upper lip wrinkling as she takes the envelope from my outstretched hand.
“You have to promise to make Mike call us,” she says, as concern covers her face like a lone cloud floating across the sun.
“I do solemnly swear.”
In return for my promise, I make Jan promise she’ll take the kids and leave, first thing in the morning.
I drive away from the farmhouse with a feeling of accomplishment. At least those little kids will be safe.
After a dark and lonely twenty minutes, I’m in my driveway. The house lights are off but I can see the dancing shadows of the television through the shades. I reach under the seat and grab the pistol. Then I remember Mike was here at the house. By the look of things, he probably never left.
I go in the front door slowly, gun concealed by the garbage bag, and I’m greeted by the smell of cigarettes and dirty socks.
I don’t particularly like it.
Mike is on the couch with his feet stretched out on the coffee table, eyes half-mast, mouth, loosely agape. David Lettermen’s strange aging-hobbit face grins gap-toothed at me from the tube.
“Sup, Dad?”
“Just taking care of business, Michael. Looks like you’re doing the same.”
He laughs sleepily, “Ah come on, Dads. I just took a couple of Oxys to relax. This is some stressful shit we’re going through.”
“That’s right, Mike, it is. And you need to take it real seriously. Stop taking those garbage drugs and get your head right. We need you to be sharp.”
“Tomorrow I’ll stop.”
“Did you gather up all the shit I told you to get?”
“Now how am I s’posed to do that without a car? Besides, I don’t think it’s too cool to be seen in public, the way things are going.”
“You’re probably right. Any chance the rich girl could bring the shit here? I mean, doesn’t she have to return your Chev?”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. All depends on her mood at the time. She’ll probably just leave the Chev at her house and make me come out and get it.”
“Reliably consistent, huh? We also need to find Ronnie. If they haven’t found him already.”
“I got him on his cell this afternoon,” Mike says. “He’s hiding somewhere in the woods near Lake Nebagamon, at some friend’s cabin.”
“What else did he have to say?”
“He’s freaked. But he’s ready to fight, if he has to. He, ah, ah... says he doesn’t want to be looking over his shoulder anymore.”
“What about money?”
“Said he’d—uhm—kick in fifty large.”
“Think that’s all he has?”
“No. I, ah... Really, I don’t know.”
“We’ll have to talk to him about that. What about the drugs?”
“Said he’d bring over everything he had left.”
“Believe him?”
“Yeah. I can tell he’s scared. And sick of the dope business. When I told him you were going to help us, he bitched at first, you know. Then he started to like the idea, after he, like, thought about it.”
“He know how to handle a gun?”
“Ronnie’s one of those dudes fills out everyone else’s tag at deer camp. He’s from Wisconsin, dude’s shot a lot of stop signs in his day.”
“Good. How about you?”
“What about me?”
“You like guns?”
“Not much.”
“Ever shoot them?”
“I played a lot of laser tag.”
“Ah ha. That’ll help, I guess.”
Jesus.