Orest Stelmach - The Boy Who Stole from the Dead

“You have some beautiful things here,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a collector.”

“I’m not,” Johnny said. “This stuff came with the house.”

Victor and the Ammunition sat down on a red velvet couch. Johnny slipped into a small chair the shape of a half-circle. He wore blue jeans and sparkling white tennis shoes. Sneakers, Victor thought. In his own home. Victor cringed. No foreign country deserved thanks for such a complete lack of class. That was America’s creation.

“Since you’re here,” Johnny said, “I might as well be hospitable. You guys want coffee, tea? Something stronger? I’ve got bourbon. And vodka.”

Victor was taken aback by the offer. He studied Johnny. Noticed his hands looked red and clammy. This was not a man who lost his cool easily. Victor knew from experience. Johnny was anxious because he knew why Victor was here. He was nervous because he did indeed have the locket. Best to let the evening develop slowly. In Victor’s experience, patience was a prerequisite to a non-violent resolution. And the pursuit of non-violent resolutions was the single biggest reason he was still alive today.

“Since you’re offering,” Victor said. “Coffee will be fine.”

Johnny glanced at the Ammunition, who shook his head.

A fourth voice rang out. “I’ll have a Coke if you have one.” The Gun appeared in the hallway. “You should keep your backdoor locked. Nice neighborhood, but it’s still Elizabeth.”

“It was locked,” Johnny said.

The Gun put his hands on his hips. His sports jacket opened up to reveal a gun in his waistband. “Huh. Somehow I walked right in.”

Johnny took a deep breath and regarded the twin with a mixture of respect and concern. “I don’t have Coke. I have Diet.”

“Coca Cola Light? That’s for girls. I’ll have coffee instead.”

Victor nodded to the Ammunition. The three of them went into the kitchen. Johnny described how he’d bought the house from a bank after the former owner was sent to prison for embezzlement. Victor wanted to interrupt him but couldn’t find an opening to say a word. Johnny simply wouldn’t shut up. No surprise, Victor thought. He was a lawyer.

The water came to a boil before Johnny was finished. He fixed two coffees and a tea for himself. Victor and Johnny sat down at the kitchen table. The Timkiv twins stood, one near the hallway leading to the front door, the other blocking the way to the back door the Gun had jimmied open.

“You know why we’re here,” Victor said.

“I do?”

“Yes. I could see it in your face as soon as you opened the door.”

Johnny pretended he didn’t know what Victor was talking about. Victor stayed patient. Let him deny his accusation five times.

“One last time,” Victor said. “You know why we’re here.”

Johnny took a breath. “The locket,” he said.

“Good. Where is it?”

“You know where it is. In an envelope with Bobby’s other personal possessions waiting for his release.”

Victor sipped his coffee. It was good and strong, the way he liked it. “I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then where is it?”

“Here. In your home. Or in a safe place of your own choosing.”

Johnny laughed. He sounded nervous. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Of course it is. That’s what makes it so brilliant. The boy knew he was going to meet Valentine, didn’t he? That’s my guess. He must have known his life was in danger. And he knew the locket might be priceless after all. So did he wear it the day he ended up killing Valentine in self-defense? Of course not. The last thing he wanted was for the locket to fall into someone else’s hands, or simply be lost. So he sent it to you through the mail for safekeeping instead. He knew you from his journey to America. He knows you’re the man Nadia trusts the most. In fact, he probably knew odds were high he’d either be dead or might need a lawyer. Making you an even better person to trust with his most priceless possession.”

“That’s such a load of garbage I don’t even know what to say.” Johnny turned serious. “You didn’t come up with this on your own. Who told you this?”

“I only act on impeccable information,” Victor said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Impeccable information means an impeccable source.”

Victor chuckled. “Are we going to dance all night? You know me. You know how I work. Do I need to remind you the pressure I can bring to bear to make you speak the truth?”

“No,” Johnny said. Victor was certain he was thinking of Nadia. “You don’t have to remind me what kind of man you are.”

Music started up on a radio. It was a song about a preacher’s son named Billy Ray. Johnny reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile telephone. Victor realized it was a phone call, not a radio. Johnny touched the phone and started reading the screen.

“Stop,” Victor said. He extended his hand. “Make it loud so everyone can hear.”

Johnny held both hands up, phone in his right. “It’s not a call. It’s a text.”

“A text?”

“A written message.”

Victor snapped his fingers. The Gun stepped forward and took the phone from Johnny’s hands. He read whatever was written on the screen. Then he frowned, glanced at Johnny, and handed the phone to Victor.

The message consisted of two words.

It’s done.

Victor checked to see who sent the message but he didn’t see a name. Just a random string of numbers and letters.

“What’s done?” Victor said.

Johnny didn’t answer.

“Your laundry?”

“No.”

“A transaction related to the boy’s case?”

Johnny considered this for a moment. “I guess you can say that.”

“I’ll ask you one more time. What’s done?”

Johnny leveled his chin at Victor. “You’re done.”

Victor laughed. “Really.”

“Yes. Really.”

Victor nodded at the twins. The Gun headed for the foyer to look out the front window. The Ammunition stepped to the rear to check the back door.

“You have less than two minutes,” Johnny said. “You might still have a chance if you make a run for it now.”

“Who am I running from?”

“Now.”

Victor smiled. “Let me give you some advice, Johnny.”

“What’s that?”

“Never bluff a thief.”

“I’m not bluffing.”

Victor studied Johnny. Light perspiration dotted his forehead. Was he sweating because Victor and the twins were in his house, or because he was waiting for some plan to come to fruition?

“Impossible,” Victor said, the word escaping his lips accidentally.

“Not only is it possible. It’s done.”

The twins returned.

“Nothing,” the Gun said.

“The back’s clear, too,” the Ammunition said.

Johnny glanced at his watch. Some gaudy black thing with a face the size of a manhole cover. “The cops will be banging on both doors in less than a minute. This is your last chance.”

A sense of apprehension seized Victor. It was an alien feeling, one that came to him in rare moments of self-preservation. The sensation infuriated him, as it suggested he may have been duped, which was the most horrific thought he could imagine other than his daughter or grandson getting injured. Who could have duped him? The ponytailed one? Impossible.

“Do you play chess?” Victor said.

“No. But I played checkers as a kid.”

Relief washed over Victor. “Then I give you my congratulations. You had me doubting a second ago. You actually had me considering leaving your home without the locket. You had me scared. That is not an easy feat. Nicely done.”

“Thank you,” Johnny said. “But I can’t take credit for all this. I had help.”