Jack little, p.3
Jack Little, page 3
And this old pair of eyes would be watching.
2
Watching his own parents die proved a burden upon Will Hodge. They had done very well by him. He never needed for anything while growing up. They provided just as much love for him as they did his older brothers. Maybe even more since he was the baby. Watching his wife’s Aunt Doris die proved no less burdensome. He never knew her very well, but he kept his distance on purpose. The truth was that his wife and her aunt had their own little world together. He dared not disturb it. Two weeks after she went into the hospital she was gone. Will hated seeing his wife suffer. It made the recent events seem less important.
Never the less, he did have thousands of dollars in jewelry to move. The bank would not care about dead relatives. They would only see to it that the Hodge family came up with the mortgage payment. As of her death, that was going to take nearly everything they had. Will had no time to think.
Thanksgiving came along more quickly than he would have preferred. His brother from NASA came in to visit. His wife begged him to ask him for some financial help, but he refused. He never borrowed from anybody and damn well did not want to start with family. He made a promise to his wife that he had something coming up that would tide them over. She asked him for how long. Will gave a simple response.
“Long enough to breathe.”
He felt a surge rush through him at the sight of his son. The kid looked good. His grades were up this semester and he even brought his girlfriend down. Will loved his wife, but he couldn’t figure out how he had won over such a beauty. Apparently those genes passed onto his son. The girl was simply stunning. They had a bountiful dinner. Turkey, ham, dressing, cranberry sauce, corn on the cob, rolls, mashed potatoes with gravy, pumpkin pie all sat upon the table. Most of it got eaten, but the turkey leftovers would hold out until his son returned to school. For that Will was thankful.
On the Monday following the holiday, his wife had grown weary of wondering. As he sipped his coffee in the kitchen she approached.
“So listen, honey.”
Will set his cup down and looked her in the eye.
“I know you said you have something working to get us back on our feet. I have to know what that something is.”
“Why?”
Will saw the confusion or even apprehension in her face. He had raised his voice a bit too much.
“I’m sorry, dear. Why are you so curious?”
“I just worry all the time. If you tell me I can stop.”
“Well, honey-
“Will. You don’t own a jewelry store anymore. You are out of work. I haven’t worked in years. I know how much is in our account. Now I have to know what your plan is. Please tell me.”
Will wanted to avoid this. He had a plan. It would take a little longer to pull off. But he wanted more than anything to keep it a secret. He could not be sure why. Before he never kept anything from his wife. Even if he looked at a woman crossing the street he would confess it to her later. And because of his openness they had very few problems over the years. Looking into her eyes, he knew he had to cave. But to tell her everything? He really could not do it at this point.
He explained that he came into some jewelry donated by an old customer. She asked for a name, but he did not give her one. Instead he just insisted she not worry about it. He had a way to sell the jewelry and bring them back into comfort for a good two to three years if they were smart about it. She nodded in agreement, but there was something below the surface. She knew he wasn’t telling her everything. He loved the way she could read his mind sometimes. When it came to what he wanted for dinner or what he even wanted in the bedroom, she just seemed to know somehow. Only now, she knew he was not telling her the truth. And she resented him for it.
That night in bed, she tossed and turned but finally fell into dream. Will never did. He pretended to be asleep, but he couldn’t. His secret was tearing his insides out day by day. He read about the man in the van being found two days after he left the van on the side of the road. There had been no visit from the police. If the woman who saw him at the motel had said anything the newspaper did not indicate this. The neighbor from down the street never paid them a visit. The kid still rode by on his bike, but he never stopped by. For all purposes he was in the clear.
It just didn’t feel like it.
When he drove down to Mississippi, Will had only one hundred dollars to his name. Once he was done with the monthly flea market, he was worth several thousand.
The jewelry went like hot cakes. For one the boxes were all so elaborate. Every piece was as real and professional as any person entering a jewelry store could hope for. Beyond that it was all half price. Despite the occasional haggler, he usually got the price on the tag. He managed to move nearly half of his stock in three days. He simply used a phony name on the income tax form and told anybody who asked that he received the jewelry from an inheritance. All in all it was a wonderful weekend.
But lonely.
His wife pulled away from him for the first time in years. She hadn’t left him, but he could sense it was close. She could smell the deception on him. But all things considered, he knew he was doing the right thing. They now had enough money in cold hard cash to get them through until this time next year with ease. And he still had half of the merchandise left. He had also looked into reinvesting his gains in other products he could turn quickly at the next flea market. This was a good thing but then something happened.
Will never read many novels. However he had seen his share of movies. Especially old movies. He loved the film noir stuff from the 1940s. Particularly The Maltese Falcon with Humphrey Bogart. A thought crept into his head from that movie. He recalled how the Gutman character told Bogart’s character Sam Spade about the Maltese Falcon. A group of knights persuaded Emperor Charles V to give them the island of Malta and pay a tribute of a falcon each year. How the supposed golden bird turned up in Sicily. Then in Paris. How once it got to Paris it was covered in a black enamel. For years, collectors traded it around with no idea that pure gold and much wealth hid beneath the enamel. Such fools would never know its value. This amazed Will when he first saw the movie as a child. And these days, he began to think the little story made one terrific point.
On the Saturday following his flea market trip, he and his wife drove to a friend’s house in the Germantown section of the city. The friend was Tim Broderick. Tim’s father knew Will’s father and often the two dads hung out over at the Hodge’s when Will was a boy. Naturally Will and Tim played together while their dads played pool and talked about current events. They were never best friends, but they had stayed in contact over the years. Will did not know one single classmate from high school besides Tim. The others had disappeared from his life as old acquaintances often do.
The fireplace roared. Tim loved the crackle in his study. Tim was not considered rich, but he never really went without much of anything either. His father was in the construction business. Now his business was not the biggest outfit around, but his dad made quite a bit of money over the years. Tim sought the less laborious work of architecture. When he returned from college, he helped to design many of the structures his father oversaw building. Since his father died, Tim sold off the business and now only worked once in a while on contract. He had been married but was now a widow with no children. He was more than happy for any attention he received.
Will and his wife sat at the long oak table in Tim’s study. Two book cases held at least four hundred books. And knowing Tim he had read every single one of them. Tim returned to them after a few minutes with fresh coffee. Will thanked him and took a sip from his cup. His wife declined.
“Are you sure, honey? You haven’t had any coffee today.”
“It’s fine, dear. So, Tim. How have you been getting along?”
Tim sat in the recliner next to the table. He took a drink from his own cup and warmed his hands by the fire. The house was very warm, but it was more of a ritual for Tim. The rubbing of the hands together. An act man had done since his creation. Tim loved traditions. He enjoyed many with his wife before she passed on. Now in the presence of others, Tim came alive again.
“I’ve been reading mostly. I have a lot of time on my hands. It’s almost crazy how much time I have these days. My dad always said he never had enough time for anything, but me? Well I do.”
“But maybe you should get out of this house. Maybe go meet somebody.”
Will’s wife hated to think of anybody being unhappy or lonely. She had mentioned lots of her friends and relatives to Tim in the two years since his wife passed. He didn’t appear too interested. Will figured the man just loved one woman his whole life and wanted to keep it that way, but his wife persisted.
“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Sure. There’s my friend who works at the salon. A really sweet girl. And just around your age.”
His wife continued talking up her friend from the salon. Will nodded along. The girl was quite a looker. Maybe she could help bring Tim out a bit. Perhaps his wife was right.
The flash caught his eye.
Will had to look twice to make sure. In the corner of Tim’s study sat a pitcher. But not just any pitcher. Will had been looking at nothing but antiques guides for weeks. He knew that pitcher was no ordinary pitcher but it was Depression era glassware. The antique show in Crossville would scoop it right up for quite a price. He should let his friend know about this great chance for profit.
After the coffee was done, they moved into the living room. Tim turned on the TV. He went into the kitchen where he and Will’s wife began preparing cocktail weenies. Will sat on the sofa and watched the football game on TV. Actually his eyes were on the screen but his mind remained fixated on the pitcher. Yes. After the cocktail weenies and a few beers, he would let his good friend Tim know that he had a special gem in his house worth a good bit of money. Will was on fairly easy street now with the money from the flea market. And he was developing an eye for antiques. Lots of treasure sat around on the shelves and in the attics and basements of thousands of men across the nation. Men who were too ignorant to know what they had and too lazy to try to find out. Will would capitalize on their folly. But not on his friend. Tim was too good a man for that.
An hour later, the three ate the cocktail weenies. Tim and Will drank a few beers while the wife read part of the book she had with her. She usually carried a book with her, but whenever they came to Tim’s she made sure to. She knew boys would watch their game and drink their beer, but she wasn’t going to be part of that. Will and Tim shared a few laughs and night fell. Around nine o’clock, Will and his wife left his friend’s house.
Over the next three days, Will told himself he would call Tim to tell him about the pitcher. That antique show was coming up in February. He started to call his friend. He flipped his phone open. He punched in the number. But then he closed it back. He threw on his jacket and went to his wife.
“Honey, I’m stepping out a minute. I think I might go see if I can’t find a new rake.”
She paused.
“Well I think all the leaves are gone for the year.”
“Yeah. But that one is old and just about done. I’d really like to replace it for next year. You know I like to stay ahead of things.”
She nodded.
He leaned in to kiss her.
“Want me to go?”
He told her that would be fine, but once again he slipped. There was a half-second delay. Her eyes told him she was not pleased although she said she was. She pecked him on the mouth and returned to her reading.
As he reached the front door, he turned back to her.
“Maybe we could go out to dinner tonight.”
She smiled to him.
“Sure. Where?”
“Anywhere you like, honey. Just think about it while I get us a new rake.”
She winked at him.
“Will do.”
He left his house and cruised around a while. He figured to pick up the rake first. He entered the Home Depot. He picked up the rake. Not a bad price. The quality was decent although they didn’t seem to make tools like they used to. But that was how things went. The best made things are usually hard to find. As hard to find as the pitcher in Tim’s house.
He pulled into Tim’s driveway. Tim had a two car garage and rarely left. Will figured him to be home. He walked to his front door and gave it two knocks. He peered around. The day was quiet. Very little traffic around. He gave it two additional knocks. Nothing.
From his earlier visits, he knew Tim had no security system. He tried the front door even though he figured it was locked. Tim was a careful guy. He would have locked it.
Wrong.
The door eased forward. Will stood there for a moment. He knew this was wrong. No. It wasn’t. He would see if his friend was home. Fairly likely considering the door was left open. He stepped inside.
The house was entirely quiet. No TV going. No radio. The central heating might be working but it was not running. Just dead silence. He stepped into the house with caution. Surely something hadn’t happened to his friend. He called out his name. No answer. He walked into the study. He thought maybe Tim would be curled up with a book at his fireplace. Maybe he fell asleep. He checked but found no sign of Tim and the fireplace sat cold and dormant. He stepped into the hallway. Called to his friend again. He checked the bathroom. He even pulled back the shower curtain. Nothing. He stepped back into the hallway. There were two bedrooms. He checked the first. Nothing out of the ordinary. He walked down to the second bedroom. He knocked lightly and called to his friend. Nothing. He entered the master bedroom.
The room was much darker than the rest of the house. Will literally could not see much of anything. He called to Tim again but got no answer. He flipped the light switch. Nothing but darkness. The bulb must have blown. He moved to the window. He drew back the curtains and turned to look. Just an empty bed. He checked the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Nothing. Once again he pulled back the curtain. Nothing.
Will figured to call his friend. After all he needed to let him know about this. He also felt some concern. It wasn’t like Tim to just go off and leave the house un-locked. Or he figured it was not typical behavior for him. He pulled out his cell phone and returned to the study. As he punched in the number he stared at the pitcher. Closing the phone, he walked to the pitcher and examined it. As he guessed it was in immaculate condition. It was real Depression era glassware and it would bring a great price. He stood holding the pitcher. Then the thought occurred to him.
On the drive back to his house, he figured Tim needed some cheering up. Will would take the pitcher to the antiques show and sell it himself. He would surprise Tim with the profits. Add a little cheer to his life. Besides Will would know the right price to get. Tim did not know about such matters. To Tim, the pitcher was covered with black enamel like that old falcon. Will made sure to leave the house unlocked. He returned to his house and placed the pitcher in the basement later that night while his wife slept.
The Christmas holiday was as pleasant as Thanksgiving. Their son came alone this time but assured Will and his mother that his relationship with the beautiful young lady was still going well. He also stayed glued to his phone with her almost the entire week-long visit. Young love was so inspiring.
In January he traveled back down to Mississippi with more jewelry. He got half price on the jewelry. This take wasn’t quite as large as the last, but it added to the growing pile. His days were filled with pretending to look for jobs, but really scoping out things on the street he might take for himself. He visited other friends and former customers. One elderly lady even gave him a whole box of hundred year old silverware. He used the services of a pawn shop to move that particular item. He now made more money than his best months at the store. It was amazing to him what could simply be taken with next to no effort at all. And from there the money poured in. Will Hodge felt a tremendous sense of pride in his new found abilities. His wife had come around, too. The distance was gone and all was well.
February brought two nice little additions. The insurance check for the “stolen” jewelry came in the mail. The amount was actually two thousand more than the estimate he turned in. When his wife asked, Will explained that the amount was correct. He swiftly put that in the bank. And the next week he attended the antique show in Crossville. The pitcher brought a sizable price. And while Will thought he would get more for it, he considered what he had paid for it and knew it was all a gain. He told himself he would take the money over to Tim and surprise him, but an interruption occurred on the way there.
“You going north?”
Will nodded. The man climbed into the passenger seat. Unlike many homeless people who stood at intersections with signs, this man did not appear to be homeless. He wore a suit and his hair was very well kept. He had a nice tan for February, too. He even reminded Will of his oldest brother, the Navy man.
“Were you ever in the service?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“You just remind me of an old Navy officer. You have that military stride and confidence.”
“Oh. Well, I am a speaker at many business conferences across the country. It takes a lot of confidence to do what I do.”
“Oh sure. Sure. I could never do that.”
The man shrugged. They headed north. The man needed a ride to his home. He had a fight with his girlfriend and she kicked him out of the car. Things happen. Will wondered why he had actually stopped to pick the man up. He had never picked anybody up his entire life, but something about the man gave him motivation.
“Ted Mills.”
The man reached a hand toward Will. Will took it with his right hand while steering with his left.
“Jack Little.”
“Ah.”
The man paused.
“Something wrong?”
