Curtis by Kathi S. Barton Page A

one of them. Still nothing.
    Mary walked in at that moment and set
his usual tray on the desk. He looked at the note again then at her. What the
hell, it was worth a try.
    “Who do you know that might have worked
with my father? Someone that would have signed their name with the letter ‘M’?”
    She looked thoughtful as she moved back
his chair for him. “You had an aunt Margaret, but she was as dumb as rocks and
probably couldn’t spell ‘M’ if her life depended on it. I think she’s dead now.
Does this person need to be alive?”
    “No.” He sat down as she uncovered the
silver covers. “I kind of hope the person is, but it’s not necessary, I
suppose.”
    “There was this woman who had a torrid
affair with your grandda. She’s dead too and I think her name was Marilynn. Strange
woman. I think she spent a great deal of her short life coked up.” He was
beginning to think this was a waste of time. “Then there was your mother. Her
name was Michelle. Her parents were…let me see…Micky and Rochelle Barr. She isn’t
dead, but I think she’s in one of those homes for the criminally insane. She
tried to kill off your father a few too many times and he had her committed.”
    He’d always thought his mother had died
during his birth. He asked her where she was now. “Oh, upstate somewhere. I get
a card from her caretakers every Christmas. Your daddy, he donated a lot of
money to them to keep her quiet. Michelle was reputed to have been feeding
information to the Feds by leaving them notes at the library. No one could
prove it, but still, it was hard to kill her off if it was true.”
    Except for his father. It appeared that
he knew a bit more than he had told anyone. He looked over at the note and
wondered if he had found it and had her committed to avoid whatever fell on her
spilling over onto him as well. If he didn’t tell the organization the truth,
then she’d be committed and he’d still have the money. The organization would
have most assuredly found out about it if it became public about the money.
    “Do you know who in the Feds she might
have been talking to? Or was it something she made up?” He’d heard from his
father that his mother was the biggest liar in the world. She’d tell one on you
if you were standing right next to her.
    Mary shrugged. “Don’t know. Could have
been all in her mind. She was something of a crackhead too. Mostly it was to
get away from your daddy, but she’d sometimes get high she would leave you to
me. Never seen a woman more unsuited at being a mom than her.”
    He realized then that he didn’t even
know what she looked like. There were never any pictures around, and the few
times that he’d asked his father about her he’d been hit or sent to his room. He
wondered now if her supposedly talking to the Feds had anything to do with it. But
if she knew about the money why didn’t anyone go and get it?
    “I’d like to find out where she is. If
you could get me that information, I’d appreciate it.” She nodded and went to
the door. “Mary, do you know if there were any other children besides me?”
    He didn’t know why he’d asked that. He’d
been content with being an only child, but something made him ask.
    She looked at him as if he’d been very
odd, but answered. “You have an older sister and a younger one. Don’t know much
about them other than they were taken away when your daddy took himself off to
prison that first time.” She nodded to the books on the wall. “Somewhere in
there is an album. Don’t know how it’ll help you much, but there were some
pictures in here at one time. The older one is about forty now and the younger
one…I’d say she’s about thirty-five or thereabouts.”
    He sat there in stunned silence. Sisters.
He wondered if they were his or his step sisters. The younger one would more
than likely be simply because he’d never seen her. He started to the wall of
books and went back to the table. There would be plenty