Twenty-one
Michigan
July 1999
The next day, when I rode out to the Marshes’ house, I saw the car parked in the driveway. The same long black car from the day before. The car was empty, but as I got off the motorcycle, I could hear the car’s engine still ticking in the heat. They hadn’t been here long.
I went to the front door and knocked. A voice from inside told me to come in. As soon as I pushed open the door, I saw the three men in the living room. The same three men. All of them now making themselves at home. The man with the tan fishing hat was standing on one side of the aquarium. The tall man with the mustache that didn’t quite go with his face, he was on the other side.
The third man, the one with the slow, hooded eyes that made him look half asleep, he was just sitting there on the couch.
“You’re late,” he said to me. “They’re waiting for you. In the office.”
The other two men looked up at me. I stood there wondering what the hell was going on. And where Amelia might be.
“Today would be nice,” Sleepy Eyes said.
I took a few steps forward, pausing at the bottom of the steps. I could see that Amelia’s door was closed.
“Hey!” Sleepy Eyes said. “Are you deaf or what? Get your ass in there right now.”
Fishing Hat and Tall Mustache both seemed to think that was funny. Sleepy Eyes pointed one finger at them and was about to say something, but I didn’t hear it. I opened the door to the office and stepped inside.
Mr. Marsh was in his usual chair, and in the guest chair sat a man I’d never seen before. He had a gray suit on. A white shirt. A red tie. He had dark hair and dark eyebrows. There was something a little rough and sand-papery about his skin. He was smoking a long cigarette.
“You’re here,” Mr. Marsh said. “Come on in! Have a seat!”
He jumped up to pull over the other guest chair.
“I’d like you to meet somebody,” he said. “This is, um…”
Everything stopped in its tracks right at that second. The man with the cigarette looked up at Mr. Marsh. Mr. Marsh ran his tongue along his lower lip.
“This is another business associate of mine,” he said. “Please sit down. We’ve got something we want to, um, talk to you about.”
I sat down. Mr. Marsh sat back down in his own chair, wiping sweat from his face.
“So you’re the young Michael,” the man with the cigarette said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good,” Mr. Marsh said. “All good things.”
The man with the cigarette looked over at Mr. Marsh and raised one of his eyebrows. Maybe a quarter inch. Mr. Marsh put up both hands and then kept his mouth shut for the next three minutes.
“I understand that you went to see Mr. G yesterday, and that the results, at least from this preliminary meeting, were not so good.”
I sat there, looking at him.
“Would you agree with that assessment?”
I nodded my head.
He leaned forward in his chair, pinching the cigarette between two fingers and being careful not to spill ashes on his pants. I could smell the cigarette and maybe the cologne he was wearing. It was an expensive and exotic smell that I’d never forget.
“You don’t speak,” he said.
I shook my head.
“You don’t speak ever.”
I shook my head again.
He leaned back in his chair. “Okay then. That is something I can appreciate. In fact, that’s a gift that I wish you could pass on to others.”
He didn’t look over at Mr. Marsh. He didn’t have to.
“Norman here tells me that you broke into this house. Is that true?”
I nodded.
“He tells me that you refused to give up any of your accomplices.”
I nodded again.
“You’re two for two here, Michael. You sound like the kind of man I could trust.”
I looked over at Mr. Marsh. He was smiling and nodding his head. He had his hands clasped together tight.
“But then we get to the business with the locks,” the man said. “Because here I was led to believe that you can open up anything. Hence my disappointment when I heard back from Mr. G.”
I didn’t know how to react to that. I sat there wondering if Amelia was up there in her room, if she was scared out of her mind or pissed off or what.
“Now, I know that Mr. G can be a little abrupt sometimes. So I’m wondering if maybe the two of you just got off on the wrong foot. Is that possible?”
I didn’t move.
“Michael? Is that possible?”
I shrugged. The man kept watching me.
“Here’s the thing. Mr. Marsh and his partner, Mr. Slade, both have certain obligations right now, and I’m afraid that neither one of them have been meeting those obligations. In Mr. Slade’s case, well, he seems to have disappeared completely, so I’m not sure how we’re going to deal with him when he does eventually show his face again.”
He finally looked over at Mr. Marsh. Mr. Marsh was staring at his own hands now. The giant fish loomed over everything.
“Give Mr. Marsh credit for one thing,” the man said. “At least he’s facing up to the situation. He wants to make good on those obligations, which I appreciate. So I’m willing to work with him. The problem is, he’s sort of overextended himself right now. With the one health club and the plans for another, and these plans for a new housing development… well, I’m afraid he’s already leveraged all of those assets about as far as he can go. Do you understand what I’m saying? The poor man doesn’t have anything else of value that he can use in place of actual cash. But what he does have…”
He leaned forward in his chair again.
“Is you.”
I looked over at Mr. Marsh again. He wouldn’t meet my eye.
“Don’t get me wrong. I know you’re not his property, but as I understand it, you were sentenced by the court to perform certain services for him, for the rest of the summer. Whatever he sees fit for you to do. Within reason, of course. Which means that while he doesn’t own you, he does, in fact, own a certain amount of your time. A set number of hours, every day. Every week. And that, Michael, is the closest thing to a real commodity that he’s got right now. So in the grand scheme of things, what else can he offer me to help make things right?”
I watched the smoke from his cigarette curl toward the ceiling.
“So both of us would like you to think about giving it another shot with Mr. G. I’ve already spoken to him. I’ve explained that you sound like a young man with a lot of promise-which now that I’ve met you I can see is most definitely true-and that you deserve another chance.”
“It would really help us out,” Mr. Marsh said, finally finding the courage to speak again.
“It would,” the man said. “It would help me out, because I’m very interested to see just how good you really are. And it would certainly help out Mr. Marsh. And his family, don’t forget. The son, he’s already off to college? Getting an early start on his football career?”
“Yes,” Mr. Marsh said.
“Excellent. And your daughter?”
Mr. Marsh closed his eyes.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, not at all. She’ll be a senior in high school.”
“Very good. What was her name again?”
“Amelia.”
“Amelia. That’s a beautiful name. Don’t you agree, Michael?”
He saw me holding on tight to the sides of my chair. He didn’t say a word about it, but I could tell he was registering my reaction.
“I think we’re all on the same page now,” he said. “Michael, if you’ll excuse us. We have a few more things to talk about. I know Mr. G is waiting, so you might want to go ahead and make your way down there. I’m sure the two of you will have a much more productive time of it today, huh?”
He sat there and waited for me. I stood up.