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“No,” I said. “I can’t. I don’t have it.”
“Suppose you did have it,” Grandma said. “Would you give it to them?”
“Yes. Would you?”
“Heck no,” Grandma said.
“How about you?” I asked my mom. “Would you give the money back?”
“How much was it?” she asked.
“Eleven million.”
“That’s a lot of money,” she said. “A person could do wonderful things with that much money.”
“Like what?” I asked. “What would you do with eleven million dollars?”
“I’d go to Paris,” my mother said.
“I’d buy a horse,” Grandma said. “I always wanted a horse. I’d name him Brownie. What would you do with the money?” Grandma asked me.
“I’d get new towels for my bathroom,” I said. “And I’d get a new bathroom.” It seemed boring compared to a horse and Paris, but I had a really ugly bathroom.
I finished my sandwich and pushed away from the table. “I have to get back to work,” I said. “Stay safe. Be careful.”
I went to my Whatever and noted that the Rangeman car was still in place. I suppose it should make me feel safe to have them following me around, but it did the opposite. It increased my anxiety. It was a reminder of the danger. It was like the TSA people at the airport who were there to keep flyers safe, but their presence screamed out that it was perfectly possible for your plane to get exploded at forty thousand feet in the air.
I drove the short distance to the office and sat in my car for amoment, thinking about the eleven million. Suppose it dropped in my lap. What would I really do with it? First thing, I’d buy a condo. Nothing elaborate and not too big, but I’d want it to be new. New paint. New appliances. It should have its own washer and dryer. What else? New furniture. Maybe a fish tank for the living room. And I’d get a pedicure. And a new car. I didn’t want to spend time in Paris or get a horse. Probably I should quit my job, but what would I do all day? I could learn to play the piano. No, scratch that. I couldn’t see myself playing the piano. I could join a gym and get a trainer and get in really good shape. Ugh. That was a horrible thought. Or I could go to culinary school like Julia Child. She got a husband because she could cook. I have two amazing men in my life but neither of them wants to get married, and I don’t think acquiring cooking skills would change that. Maybe if I went to culinary school, I’d meet someone new who appreciated that I could make a soufflé. Something to consider.
A black Mercedes drove past me for the third time. Carpenter Beedle was behind the wheel. I called him and he picked up.
“Why are you driving past the bail bonds office?” I asked him.
“We’ve been checking to make sure things are okay. I see Connie is back at work. That’s a relief. We’re sorry we caused so much trouble, but it looks like everything’s good now, right?”
“Wrong. The kidnappers want the money.”
“Most of it’s spent,” he said.
“How could you go through eleven million dollars that fast?”
“It got divided up three ways so we each got a little over three and a half million. Half of that I invested in bonds for everyone. They’ll have a good yield, but we can’t touch them for five years. The rest of the money went to clothes, cars, boats, andentertainment. GoComic wasn’t cheap. Benji got his own apartment. Sparks married the hooker who gave him the lap dance.”
“What about you?”
“I paid the mortgage off on my mom’s house and I bought this car. I got an expensive haircut and some clothes, and I have some money put aside for a defense lawyer. This was found money to us. We didn’t know someone was kidnapped over it. We ran out and spent it. Even if we sold off some of the stuff we bought, we couldn’t come near to the eleven million.”
“Are you going back to panhandling?”
“I don’t know. I enjoyed panhandling, but I really liked moving money around and investing it. I might look for a job in finance if I can avoid going to jail.”
“Not accounting,” I said.
“Not accounting. That ship sailed and sank.”
“Good luck,” I said. “Don’t forget your court date.”
“I never forget a date,” Beedle said.
