Chapter Fourteen #3
“It’s my goddamned building, so I’ll yell if I want to.”
“That’s so unnecessary,” Napoleon interjected.
Mr. Murphy waved a finger at the big man’s face. “It’ll take me a year to get reimbursed for this mess.”
I felt my eyes welling with tears, upset and angry with myself for feeling totally defeated.
Mars must have seen the distress in my face, because he came and put his arm around my shoulders, ignoring the looks his teammates were giving him.
I leaned into him, desperately wanting to turn and bury my face in his chest.
“Don’t worry, Cam. We’ll get this sorted.”
“You brought vandals to my building, Demarco!” Murphy repeated at the top of his voice.
Mars whipped his head around, glaring at my landlord. “I told ya, he’s the victim of a crime, so watch ya fucking tone with ‘im.”
“Oh, really, Monty Python!” he shouted.
I would’ve laughed if I didn’t feel so violated.
Everything I owned was destroyed…everything but the things I’d kept hidden, I hoped.
I was itching to go look, but I wasn’t going to do it until he’d left.
If he caught me digging into the baseboard behind my bed with a pocketknife, he’d no doubt charge me for even more damage.
“You’ll pay for this, Demarco.” He glared at me and shook his fist.
“I think that’s enough out of you,” Mickey said, opening the front door wide in an invitation I hoped Mr. Murphy would take. “Submit a bill or don’t. Break the lease or don’t. He doesn’t deserve that kind of verbal abuse. Now, get the hell out.”
Murphy looked like he was about to lunge at Mickey when Napoleon walked over and swept out a hand in an obvious invitation to leave.
“You heard, Agent Way. Submit the damages to the FBI. You can visit the local field office or file the paperwork online.” Inexplicably, he smiled. “Have a nice day now.”
Murphy sniffed, glared at me one last time, and left the apartment. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as soon as Mickey shut the door behind him.
As Mars dropped his protective arm, Napolean said, “He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “He’s always been a jerk.
I understand that he’s upset because this is a furnished apartment.
” I stared at the ruined couches, coffee table, and TV.
I sighed, glancing back at Mars. “Let me see if there are any clothes I can salvage and then I gotta grab those hidden things I told you about.” He nodded and I went into the kitchen, stepping over the puddles and broken glass before opening a cupboard.
I pulled out a plastic grocery sack and moved past the others into my bedroom.
I was able to find a couple of intact T-shirts, boxer briefs, and a pair of jeans that had survived in the back of my closet. I stuffed them into the sack and then walked over to the mattress.
“Do ya need ‘elp with anything?” Mars asked from the doorway.
“Yeah. I need to get into the baseboard behind the bed. Would you help me move the mattress?”
“Course.” We each grabbed a side and moved what was left of the mattress and box spring off the bedframe and then I squatted, pulling out my pocketknife.
I worked the point into a crease and pried about a foot of the baseboard free, setting it aside.
I breathed out a sigh of relief before reaching into the space and pulling out five comics in their plastic sheaths.
I’d paid a little over a thousand dollars a piece for them at auction two years before Jessie died, using the money we’d made stealing cars to buy them.
We’d shared in the cost because—as Jessie told it—everyone needed a retirement plan.
When Jessie had started doing drugs after his release from prison, he’d come around looking for them.
I’d seen what was happening to him, and figured out a hiding place in advance, hoping he’d get clean someday when we could sell them.
I didn’t know what their value was now, but I knew the price had gone way up at auction.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t need to sell them anytime soon, but they were my backup plan.
I twisted around and handed them to Mars, lamenting the loss of the ones I’d stored in the coffee table drawer.
There was at least a thousand dollars lying on the floor of my living room, covered in sticky syrup.
Mars whistled as he looked at the comics, but I ignored him, turning back around and reaching inside again.
I pulled out a small box which contained Mom’s jewelry as well as a stack of the recipe cards I’d recreated from the ones Mom lost long ago when her memory began to vanish.
I replaced the board and straightened to my full height, throwing the box into the bag.
Mars looked almost heartbroken as I lay the comics on the top and closed the bag.
“Well, that’s it.”
He reached out and patted my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cam.”
I cleared my throat, feeling my face heat. “We’d better get to the plane.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said quietly, leading me out of the apartment, where I left my former life behind.