Page 24 of Average Joe

“Bill’s home,” he snapped, lip curled in disgust.

“My fucking house!” I yelled, slamming a fist on the sideboard. His ashtray jumped, and his half-smoked cigar tipped off the edge and rolled to the floor. “My home!”

The old coot jerked back, stumbled, and fell into a ratty wingback chair. I towered over his weathered body, then bent low so he’d hear me loud and clear. “The only time Bill ever stepped foot in that house was to take Alice’s money or beat the shit out of her. Now you’re sniffing around, invading my privacy. For what?” I asked, throwing my arms out wide. “There is nothing there for you. Nothing of your brother’s. Stay the fuck away.”

The man held his chin high, gaze fierce. “You’re crazy, just like that old bag.”

Too many seconds passed with unspoken threats hanging between us. I backed off, standing straight.

Larry huffed. “Get outta my house, boy.”

Yeah. Good idea.

Before I cleared the room, Larry shouted, “You don’t want me as an enemy, kid. Watch your back.”

That stopped me dead. Hmm. Larry had grown himself a pair of balls. Yeah, I couldn’t let that little threat slip. “Whatcha gonna do, uncle? Kill me? Or maybe pay your buddy Harper to take me out?”

Larry’s eyes widened, then narrowed before he dropped his head in false defeat. He said to his lap, “You wanna know why I was at the wake?”

Was he kidding me?

The man was a career lowlife, and as I watched the lie knit together behind his golden eyes, for a brief moment, I was tempted to play along.

Instead, I said, “Don’t give two shits. Whatever you’re looking for, it isn’t at the house. Even if it was, never belonged to you in the first place.”

“Wasn’t yours neither,” he grumbled.

It was then I knew. Larry shared the same suspicion I did. Alice hid something somewhere on her property, and he’d stop at nothing to claim what he believed to be his right.

I stormed out the door and damn near ran over a tiny little thing holding a covered casserole dish and wearing her weight in gold necklaces and bracelets. Smelled like garlic and herbs. My stomach rumbled.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said, scooting out of her way.

“Oh, my. You’re a big fella.” She looked up and smiled.

Red lipstick bled into the crepey skin around her lips. Long, silver hair billowed over her bright pink blouse.

“Are you a friend of Larry’s?” Such sweet innocence in her voice.

“No, ma’am.”

“Family?” she asked, her arm shaking under the weight of her offering.

Seemed wrong to lie to the woman. “Nephew.”

Her beady eyes narrowed. “The one who killed Larry’s brother?” Her head bobbed, then her hunched shoulders straightened. “Are you here to murder Larry, too?”

Kill me now.

“No, ma’am. Not today. He’s all yours.” I reached around her petite frame and turned the knob, opening the door.

“Oh, good.” Her crooked eyebrows bounced up and down. “It’d be a shame to waste this lasagna.” She stepped inside.

Larry stood at his kitchen counter, gaze bouncing between the two of us in confusion.

The woman turned to close the door and shot me a wink, whispering, “If things don’t work out with Lare-Bear, maybe you and I can give it a go.”

Marley

---