Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 by Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams

eight or ten grand. A sizable amount of cash by most standards. Much more than a piggy bank amount.
    “Jackpot,” I whispered and pocketed the wads of cash. Then I pocketed the little key. Placed the safe as I’d found it and left the room.
    In the bathroom I took notice of the sink. Initially because it was vintage and reminded me of the sink in my grandparents’ Colonial house. Upon closer inspection I realized just how filthy it was. I couldn’t believe that it actually functioned. It was caked with fuzzy scum and was rusty and the bottom had a puddle of standing brown water. Age and neglect and decades of clogs left it unable to completely drain.
    I retrieved the little safe key from my pocket. Dropped it down the drain. Pushed the stopper lightly with my pinky, so that it was blocking the drain while appearing to not have been deliberately inserted. Then I turned on the cold water. The pressure was low, but soon enough the shallow sink began to fill. I lowered the stream to halfway and stood back once it began to overflow.
    It was a prick move. No excuses. My thought was that maybe one brother would blame the other for forgetting to turn off the water. But really it didn’t matter. They could ignore their own mess. They could get used to that. But they couldn’t ignore a waterfall cascading down the stairs. Their discomfort was my primary objective. When it came time for me to confront them, they’d be annoyed and frustrated. Which played into my favor.
    I went back downstairs and outside and took a huge breath of fresh air. The stench of their house was trapped in my nose. But still the outside air was a vast improvement. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth to combat the mild nausea.
    The old woman was still sitting on her porch when I went down the drive. It looked like she hadn’t moved since I’d spoken with her. I hoped she hadn’t. I didn’t want to see flashing blue lights coming in my direction.
    She said, “I guess you didn’t find your dog.”
    “Not exactly. But they certainly are keeping dogs.”
    She nodded. “Should I expect to see you again?”
    “I’ll be back for sure.”
    “Be careful. You’re playing with fire with these two.”
    I grinned and said, “Thanks for your concern.”
    “I’m not playing,” she said.
    “Neither am I. Life is about to get very hard for the Benson brothers.”
    She hesitated before whispering, “You’re not going to kill them, are you?”
    “Doubtful. Just make them wish they were dead. If they choose to kill themselves, that’s their call.”
    She was quiet. After a moment I took the wad of cash from my coat pocket and peeled off a grand and set the pile of bills on the porch railing. The old woman glanced from the cash to me.
    I said, “Consider it a parting gift for having to endure nasty neighbors.”
    “That’s their money?”
    “It was.”
    “I can’t take it. It’s dirty money.”
    “Do something good with it.”
    “I don’t know,” she muttered.
    “Drop it in a donation box if you want, it’s up to you. Makes no difference to me.”
    Finally she nodded and said, “You take good care of yourself.”
    I said, “Same to you.”
    “I really mean it. Be very careful, young man. These aren’t good people.”
    I thanked her again for her genuine concern. Said good night and walked back to my van.
     
     

 
     
    15
     
     
    Frank was anxiously awaiting my return.
    “Who’s a good boy?” I asked, sliding into the van.
    He thumped his tail like a hammer and made Chewbacca sounds.
    I peeled off my gloves, turning them inside out. Balled them up and tossed them in the trash bag on the passenger floor. Then I gave my overeager sidekick a good scratching as he forced his way between the front seats. I told him he was good for waiting patiently. He panted his replies. It almost sounded like he was saying, “Yeah. Ha-ha. Yeah.”
    Then his glee gave way to curiosity. He commenced to giving me a thorough inspection.