Family Thang Read online

  “Last year Mrs. Avery’s husband died and she found out her youngest boy had blown all their millions on cocaine and leveraged funds. Now she lives in a ratty duplex on Mallory Street and walks seven miles each day back and forth to work at McDonalds. Poor, just like me and a lotta other folks. Each week faced with tough decisions. Rent or fill the prescription? Food or the light bill? Not enough money to do both. Kid’s clothes or the gas bill?

  “You either got it or you don’t. If you ain’t got it, you need to figure a way to get it or learn to live without it. Doesn’t matter what you used to have, what you used to do, what you gonna do when you get it again. All anyone cares about is do you have it now. Everywhere you go—bank, hospital, courthouse, wherever—the second someone sees you don’t have it now, you might as well sit down because you fixin’ to wait a long time. ‘You ain’t got no money, what’s your rush?’ The more money involved, the longer the wait.

  “I know Mrs. Avery is having a helluva hard time adjusting to now and she can’t afford to send me two hundred dollars. She can barely feed herself. She thinks I’m in far worse shape than she. So each check I put in another envelope and mail it back to her with a note. Thank You, Mrs. Avery, But There Are Some Things I Cannot Do. This Is One Of Them.

  “Ruth Ann, someone could have a put a gun to my head and I would not have done what you did to me. Never! Hungry, dead broke, living on the street, there are some things you should never do.”

  “Shirley, you’re not going to beat me down?”

  “You didn’t hear a damn thing I said, did you? Not one word. It doesn’t matter. You’re no longer my sister. You’re bad news. Somebody ask you who I am, tell em you don’t know. Tell em I’m an acquaintance, someone you used to know. Don’t tell em I’m your sister because you’re no longer related to me in any way.”

  Ruth Ann laid the gun on the couch and stood up. “I do love you, Shirley.”

  “Don’t you dare! You hear me? Don’t ever say that shit to me again!”

  Ruth Ann swallowed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Do I look like I’m bullshitting? I’m not! Sit down and let me finish what I have to say. Where’s Shane?”

  “Out hunting. Shirley, how long we supposed to act like we’re not sisters?”

  “Forever! Shut up and listen! I want a life, a real life, not this nightmare I’m currently living. I aim to have it, one way or the other. I also want Eric. He’s a dog, a dirty dog, but he’s my dog. I picked him and I’m keeping him. I’m not giving him up to you or no one else. We’re still getting married. No, before you ask, you’re not welcome at the wedding. Don’t even send a card. I’ve thought about this long and hard, and there’s no reason to change my plans because my former sister doesn’t give a fuck about nobody but herself.

  “I want a computer for my son. A car for Mrs. Avery so she can at least drive to work. I want a home of my own. You know how I’m going to get all this? The money Daddy left for us, is how. Once I get it, Eric, Paul and me, we’re getting the hell out of Dawson. You feel me, Ruth Ann?”

  Ruth Ann nodded.

  “Good. Then you’ll have no problem helping me out, will you?”

  “Uh, what do you want me to do?”

  “Help me catch whoever killed Daddy.”

  Ruth Ann eyed Shirley toe to head, from her well-worn sandals to her extra-large gray sweat suit to her hair, a tangled mess. She forced herself to look in Shirley’s steely brown eyes. “How do you propose to do that?”

  Shirley smiled at her.

  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this? An hour ago a humongous tick with an hourglass on its back bit me. Its head is still in my neck. I may not have long to live.”

  “My sympathies lay with the tick.”

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing, really. Stay here for a couple days.”

  “That’s it? I guess I can do that.”

  “When the killer comes here, I’ll nab him or her.”

  Ruth Ann cleared her throat. “What makes you think the killer will come here?”

  Shirley smiled again. “I sent out invitations.”

  “Invitations? Shirley, honey, don’t take this the wrong way. Killers rarely answer invitations. They view those the same as going to the police and confessing.”

  “I’m not your honey. I told everyone Daddy left all his money to you. My friend Darlene designed a fake will on her computer and I showed it to em as proof.”

  “So everybody thinks I’m getting all the money?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think whoever killed Daddy will now come looking for me?”

  “Amazing! Morally deficient with a degree of intelligence.”

  “If the killer takes the bait and comes up here to kill me, you’re going to nab him with an empty pellet gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shirley, why didn’t you just get a real gun and shoot me? Same results.”

  “I couldn’t get hold of a real gun. I was lucky to get this one. No one knows it’s a pellet gun. It’ll work.”

  “I know! What if the killer comes with a real gun, then what? Huh? What you gonna do? The killer firing real bullets while you’re shooting blanks. No, you can’t even do that. You don’t have any pellets.”

  “No doubt in my mind you’re the scariest-assed woman ever snapped on a bra. Listen, this killer is cunning, organized, methodical. He’s not coming in with guns blazing.”

  “Organized? Methodical? You finally got cable, didn’t you? Shirley, I really think we should let Sheriff Bledsoe handle the investigation.”

  “Sheriff Bledsoe? Ha! He couldn’t find smut on the Internet. I’ll be too old to enjoy the money by the time he figures out who did it.”

  “Maybe so, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll do anything but that. When Shane comes back I’m outta here.”

  Shirley raised her chin and looked down at Ruth Ann. “You owe me and you are going to pay me! One way or the other.”

  “Couldn’t you take a check?” Beseechingly: “I don’t like this, Shirley! I really don’t. Somebody could get hurt. Me!”

  Chapter 33

  Various birds chirped discordantly, hamsters and gerbils rattled exercise wheels, water-purifying machines percolated in aquariums. The entire pet shop, including the assistants, smelled of feces.

  Robert Earl, a beatific expression on his face, stood in front of a large aquarium that housed an inert albino boa constrictor, the same color as Albert, orange-and-white. But by comparison, this snake made Albert look like a worm. Robert Earl judged it to be about twelve-feet long and as thick as a man’s arm.

  He wanted it, desperately. He just knew this snake was much smarter than Albert. This snake could be taught a bunch of tricks. This snake wouldn’t belly-up under a little pressure around its neck. People would pay good money to see this snake.

  “May I help you?” an assistant asked.

  Robert Earl, eyes never leaving the object of his affection, said, “How much does he cost?”

  “Three hundred and seventy-five dollars.”

  Robert Earl looked at the young woman wearing a blue apron with the store’s name stitched on the pocket. “That’s not much,” he said, though he’d almost said, “Are you outta your mind?”

  “I’m just looking,” he told her.

  “If you need anything, give me a nod,” the woman said before moving on.

  Robert Earl gave the snake another longing look before walking out.

  Getting into his truck, he said, “Fuck!” He only had ten dollars and some change. All the snakes he’d owned someone had given him or he’d caught himself; he had no idea a snake could cost so much. Plus he’d driven all the way out here, Greenville, Mississippi. Fifty miles!

  The gas hand was almost on E. “Fuck!”

  He hadn’t tossed the F-bomb since his tour in the Marine Corps. “Fuck!” It felt good to say it. He started the truck and drove off. “Fuck!”

&nb
sp; A rusty Ford pickup pulling a lone cow in a cattle trailer slowed him on the narrow two-lane bridge over the Mississippi River.

  The Ford slowed to walking speed, and Robert Earl could see the driver looking right to left, admiring the picturesque view of gulls and pigeons gliding below an azure sky and above a collage of painted fields dotted with grazing cows and rusty tin buildings halved by a band of muddy-brown water.

  Robert Earl blew the horn. The wind shifted and the stench of cow manure hit him full face. Blew the horn again. The driver, an elderly white man—who else?—stuck his hand out the window and waved, as if he were in a parade.

  “Fuck!” Robert Earl shouted. “Get out the damn way, you coot!”

  The Ford inched along even slower. For the next fifteen minutes it took to cross the half-mile long bridge, Robert Earl cursed and screamed, veins pulsing in his forehead, cow manure assaulting his nostrils, and the old fart up ahead waving and strolling along as if he were lead float in the Rose Parade.

  At the foot of the bridge, just past the sign that said Arkansas, The Land of Opportunity, Robert Earl jerked his truck in the opposite lane, an eighteen-wheeler approaching less than a quarter mile away, and drove alongside the Ford. “Get out the damn way, grandpa!”

  The eighteen-wheeler less than a block away now, air horn blaring, Robert Earl jerked his truck in front of the Ford, narrowly missing the bumper.

  Maybe I should have let that big rig hit me, he thought. End my misery. Rotten rascal had a million dollars and couldn’t leave me a rusty dime. He should’ve been able to walk in the pet store and buy four or five snakes.

  Instead he had to walk out in shame, the assistant well aware he didn’t have enough money to buy a guppy, much less an expensive boa constrictor.

  He and Estafay had a little money in a cookie jar, but he couldn’t get it, not with the rent due and the light bill two days past the shut-off notice. Estafay would blow a fuse if she had to sit in the dark while he trained his new high-dollar snake in the backyard.

  “Fuck!”

  An hour later Robert Earl trudged up Maumelle Trail. The time had come for him to take matters in his own hands. He would convince Ruth Ann to give him some of the money; would not take no for an answer.

  No sireee!

  He patted the back pocket of his overalls. The knife was there. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but he wouldn’t return to his truck without a guarantee he’d get some of that money.

  The sun would be setting soon, and though he knew these woods like the back of his hand, he didn’t want to be out here at night. Ruth Ann’s boy didn’t have good sense; no telling what he might do if there were a full moon.

  He walked up to the cabin and knocked on the door. No one answered. He pushed it open and stepped in. Ruth Ann lay asleep on an orange couch.

  Nudging her awake, he said, “We need to talk.”

  Ruth Ann stared at him dreamily, and then jumped to her feet, a hand over her mouth.

  “We need to talk, Ruth Ann.”

  She backed away from him. “Robert Earl!” she shouted, looking about the room. “Hello! Robert Earl is here! He’s in the cabin… with me!”

  “What’s wrong with you? Why you acting crazy? Where’s the boy?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me, Robert Earl!” Ruth Ann shouted even louder. “What makes you think there could possibly be something wrong with me!”

  “Why you hollering?”

  “Am I hollering, Robert Earl?” Trembling: “Am I hollering, Robert Earl?”

  “Yes, you’re hollering, making me nervous.” He sat down on the couch. “We need to talk. I need some of that money, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “No problem!” She backed up against the wall. “No problem, Robert Earl! Hello!”

  “I wish you stop hollering. I ain’t deaf. Sit down and talk to me.”

  “I don’t want to sit down! Hello! I’m fine here!”

  “I need some of that money. I have a dream. Ain’t got a dime to my name. It ain’t fair Daddy giving you all the money. You know he was wrong. If you don’t give me some…” He produced a red pocketknife and flipped open a four-inch blade.

  Ruth Ann screamed.

  Robert Earl looked at the blade and then up at Ruth Ann, her eyes bucked, tongue wriggling as she screamed. “I don’t get some of the money, I’m gonna hurt myself!”

  “Freeze, brain trauma!” Shirley shouted, bursting into the cabin with a gun in her hand.

  Robert Earl threw his hands up. “What the—Shirley, what are you doing?”

  “Drop the knife!”

  Robert Earl threw it down. “Shirley, watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

  “You sure took a long time,” Ruth Ann said. “I could’ve been dead.”

  “I went looking for the lady’s restroom. Couldn’t find it.”

  “Shirley, what’s going on? Stop pointing that thing at me!”

  “So it was you, Robert Earl,” Shirley said. “Who would’ve imagined? I didn’t think you had enough sense to jaywalk without getting run over.”

  “Shirley, what are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumber than usual. You killed Daddy and you were fixin’ to kill Ruth Ann. Tie him up, Ruth Ann.”

  “Tie him up? Tie him up with what?”

  “What y’all been smoking up here? I didn’t kill Daddy. Tie me up? For what?”

  “Shirley,” Ruth Ann said, “he didn’t threaten to kill me. He said if I didn’t give him some of the money he would hurt himself.”

  Robert Earl said, “I mean it, too. If I don’t get some of Daddy’s money I’m going to do something bad to myself.”

  Shirley lowered the gun to her side. “What were you going to do, Robert Earl? Nick yourself?”

  “Wouldna gone that far. I was just going to hold the knife to my throat.”

  “For Pete’s sake!” Shirley said.

  “How ’bout it, Ruth Ann?” Robert Earl said.

  “How about what?”

  “The money? I’ve quit my job. Bills due. Estafay plans to get a lot of cosmetic surgery. Not to mention—”

  “She can sure use it,” Shirley said.

  “—my dream.”

  “The snake gas station?” Ruth Ann said.

  “Combination gas station and exotic snake farm. There’s a snake in Greenville I need to buy before somebody else gets it.”

  “You call that a dream?” Shirley said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You need a mule.”

  “Can a mule do tricks?”

  “Did any number of your teachers suddenly disappear, left town without telling a soul?”

  “Why you keep asking about my childhood?” To Ruth Ann: “Sis, you’re not letting your oldest brother, your only straight brother, lose his dream and get kicked out on the street, are you? I’m begging you. Please! If I had money you wouldn’t have to ask—I’d just give it to you.”

  “Would you, really?”

  “Yes. In a heartbeat. Whatever you needed.”

  “Stop your begging, straight brother,” Shirley said. “You’ll get your share.”

  “What? Is that right, Ruth Ann?”

  Ruth Ann nodded.

  Robert Earl jumped up in the air several times, shaking the entire cabin. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you, Ruth Ann. Thank you! I told Shirley you were reasonable. I knew you were better off alive than dead.”

  “What?” Ruth Ann said.

  “Nothing. You’re my favorite sister.” He hugged her. “You know I wouldn’t let nobody kill you.”

  Shirley laughed. “Robert Earl, Ruth Ann has nothing to do with you getting your share of the money.”

  “Huh?” quickly releasing Ruth Ann.

  “Shirley set a trap. She faked the will. Daddy didn’t leave all the money to me.”

  Robert Earl stared at them both. “Which lie you want me to believe?”

  “I faked the will,” Shirley said, “to draw Daddy’s
killer up here. Once I catch whoever did it, we’ll all get our share of the money.”

  “I see,” he said. “A trick… to catch the killer. You sure had me fooled.”

  “Keep taking the bee pollen, Robert Earl. It’s finally starting to kick in.”

  Robert Earl stared at the door. “If the killer comes here, he’s going to kill Ruth Ann.” He swallowed. “And whoever else is here. I need to get my butt out of here. Now! What if there’s gunplay?” Shirley held up the gun. “I might not know long division, Shirley, but that sure looks like a pellet gun to me.”

  “I told you, Shirley!” Ruth Ann said.

  “Robert Earl,” Shirley said, “why don’t you stay here and help us catch the killer? If the gun doesn’t work, you can hold the killer at bay with your knife.”

  “Do I look stupid?” Shirley nodded. “Shirley, you’ve been watching too much television. I’m going home. Y’all know my number. Call me and let me know how it worked out.” He started for the door.

  “Ruth Ann!” a voice cried from outside.

  Robert Earl froze. “Ruth Ann, someone is looking for you.”

  Chapter 34

  “Linda!” the man called.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “I dropped the remote. Come get it.”

  Eric exhaled in relief when Linda leaned over the couch and retrieved the remote control. Thank God the man was lazy. Eric’s legs were numb. He’d ducked behind the couch in an uncomfortable position: knees bent; butt resting on his ankles; hands flat on the floor; head scrunched down to keep from showing above the headrest. And he now needed to pee.

  A few minutes later a foul odor drifted behind the couch. Hog maw? Sure smelled like it.

  Eric heard snoring. The man sleeping! Eric raised his head to take a peek.

  If he could have seen himself, he would have viewed a sweaty forehead slowly rising above the headrest, followed by bucked eyes flitting in every direction, and finally a mouth, opened wide, the bottom lip quivering. The smell much stronger now, he locked onto the source… feet…

  …funky feet!

  Eric stared at the man’s washboard stomach and massive chest. Though asleep, the man’s muscles were taut, twitching. Eric chanced a look into the man’s face: brown-skinned, square chin, broad nose and an inch-long scar below the right eye.