Cheddar

The last person Nelson Donovan expected to see at the airport was Carol Austin.

Carol still has her dimpled smile, freckled features, and hourglass figure. The girl holding her hand is her mini-carbon copy.

Carol sighs with regret. Ten years have passed, but Nelson still has his striking good looks and athletic body.

“What brings you here?” Nelson asks.

“Gary Banks. I’ve been dreaming about him lately.”

“Me too.”

“Coincidence?” Carol asks.

“I doubt it.”

Driving to the hotel, they talk about the circumstances that brought them back home.

“Did you ever get married?” Carol asks.

“My wife passed away three months ago.”

Carol blushes. “I’m sorry.”

“We met at the ad agency. She was our illustrator. We were in Maui on vacation when the hospital called saying her mother had been in an accident. The last memory I have of Nikki is her sparkling smile as she got on the plane.”

“It crashed?”

“Yes. And they never found Nikki’s body.”

There is a long silence between them. Carol’s daughter begins singing, “Teach your children well. . . their father's hell, did slowly go by. . .”

“Your kid just said hell.”

“That was Gary’s favorite song,” Carol notes, “How did he contact you?”

“Through Nikki. I was late for dinner. She was doodling on the sketch pad she carried with her. A young man at the next table complimented her work…”

“I wish I could draw like you.”

“What would you draw?” Nikki asks.

“My home.”

“Describe it to me.”

“I live on a hill overlooking Lake Kitchiwan in New York.”

“Small world. My husband is from there.”

“There are several condos overlooking the hill near me.”

Nikki shows him the sketch. “Something like this?”

“Perfect. Mind if I add a title?”

Nikki hands him the pad and pencil. He scribbles a few words across the bottom of the page.

“Show it to Nelson,” he says, departing.

Rushing to the table, Nelson bumps into someone, excusing himself.

“No problem, bucko,” the young man replies.

“Bucko,” Carol says. “Only one person used that word.”

“By the time I turned around to see if it was Gary, he was gone.”

“What did he write on the sketch?”

“’Look for me.’.”

“When did the dreams start?”

“After Nikki died.”

Nelson moans in his sleep.

A blurry figure takes shape. …Sandy hair…a mischievous grin…bright blue eyes…

“Hello, bucko.”

“…Gary?...”

“I need something, and you can help me get it.”

“What?”

“…Justice…”

“Then he said something odd,” Nelson adds. “…Cheddar...”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Ten years ago. The day after we beat Ham’s team for the championship.”

“The day you took Ham Hock yard!” the girl shouts.

Carol blushes. “I may have told Sarah that story a few hundred times.”

“We won the championship on Saturday. That night we went out with the Holiday twins. At some point, I walked the girls home, and he headed toward Finn’s Bar. The next day when I met Gary for a slice, he seemed distracted. When I left, Gary was supposed to go on vacation, then on to Purdue.”

“He never made it to Purdue.”

Sarah quietly sings, “…Teach your children well…”

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Nelson asks, “Is she Ham’s kid?”

“My kid,” Carol answers forcefully.

“So, you and Ham?”

“Had a bumpy relationship. I fell for him because you and Gary deserted me. Hamilton was there for me, at least in the beginning.”

“I couldn’t turn down a full ride to U.S.C. . . .”

“I know. But you and Gary played baseball that summer and partied with the Holidays. Then you gave me a lame goodbye, and Gary disappeared.”

“You still could have done better than Ham Hock.”

“He wore a leather jacket, had an Elvis pompadour, and a Chesterfield hanging from his lower lip. That was an irresistible combination for any eighteen-year-old girl.”

“If you say so. He was pretty good with cars, too. Mumbled a lot, though.”

“His troubles began when he started running a chop shop with that crooked cop Iggy Skinner,” Carol laments. “Ham wanted a dutiful wife. It wasn’t the life I wanted. It really bothered him when I got my law degree. I couldn’t be associated with a car thief, so we separated. I moved out, then Sarah came along…”

Carol turns, smiling at her daughter. “Hamilton tried to be a good father.”

“Well, he did have the I.Q. of a baby,” Nelson jokes.

Carol playfully smacks him on his shoulder.

“Ham’s drinking got worse. When I pushed him to get help, he gave me a black eye and a bruised jaw. I was representing an abused woman, and I was just like her. I won the case, packed, and took Sarah with me to New Mexico.”

“And Ham?”

“He continued living on cigarettes and scotch. Then he started coughing all the time. Ham’s beloved Chesterfields had given him cancer. I got back here as the priest was administering his last rites. Ham asked for forgiveness. I hesitated. He died during that moment of hesitation.”

“He knew you loved him,” Nelson says.

Nelson looks in the rear-view mirror. Sarah sticks her tongue out at him, laughing.

“Has she seen Gary?” Nelson whispers to Carol.

“She’s the reason we’re here.”

Carol walks into the living room, her mind preoccupied with her closing statement for the next day’s case.

Sarah is playing with Carol’s old toy telephone.

“Telephone call, mommy.”

“Not now, Sarah.”

“But my friend has a message for you.”

Sighing, Carol picks up the receiver.

“Hey, bucko!”

Carol traps a gasp. “Who is this?”

“Think hard, bucko.”

“I don’t know how you’re doing this young man, but if I find out who you are ...”

“Can the habeas corpus. All I wanted to do is say hello to Mrs. Ham Hock.”

“Gary? It can’t be.”

“You’re talking on a toy telephone, so anything’s possible. I miss you, Carol. I’m calling to give you a message…Come home.”

“Same thing he said to me,” Nelson says.

“I wonder if Gary’s been haunting anyone else’s dreams?”

Officer Ignaz Skinner snores through his shift, his massive girth twisting in the driver’s seat of his police cruiser.

The hirsute, fifty-eight-year-old is three-hundred-forty pounds of triple-chinned, sweaty fat with a thick mono-brow, jagged teeth, and receding hairline.

A voice yells at him in his dream.

“MULE TRAIN!”

“Don’t call me that,” Skinner mutters.

A watery image takes shape in Skinner’s mind.

“Banks! Go away!”

“You owe me, bucko.”

“I don’t owe you nothin’!”

Blood pours from a hole in Gary’s skull.

“No! What do you want?”

“Justice,” Gary says.

Goran Hyde is convinced he’s being watched by a man standing across the street.

Short, with a prominent overbite, and small, close-set eyes, Goran seems good-natured but is violently motivated by money.

A passing car blocks Goran’s view. When he looks up again, the blonde-haired man is gone.

“How much?” Pokey Littlefield asks.

“Same as usual.”

Reaching into his worn army jacket, Pokey produces a wad of wrinkled bills.

The jarring flash of a police cruiser’s lights interrupts their transaction.

“It’s that fat pig, Skinner.”

Pokey hides the plastic bag under the seat. Pulling back his shoulder-length hair, he attempts to look straight and innocent.

Skinner ambles across the parking lot.

“Really, Hyde? In Finn’s parking lot?” Skinner scolds. “A dozen cars go by the bar every minute.”

“Just a quick business transaction.”

“Well, don’t conduct it here,” Skinner says.

“Finn don’t mind. We settled that argument a long time ago.”

“I want my cut.”

“You keep embarrassing me and you’ll get cut all right,” Goran snaps back.

“I’m still a cop. If I arrest you, you’ll do life.”

Goran’s feral features pinch together. “You haven’t been a cop for years, Slim. Think of your daddy’s spotless reputation when the world hears his son is involved in dealin’ and choppin’ up cars.”

“You’d be wearin’ pinstripes if it wasn’t for me.”

“Point taken, Slim.”

Reaching into his jacket, Goran hands Skinner a wad of cash. “Here’s a little cheddar for bein’ so conscientious. Go get a doughnut.”

“Just one more thing,” Skinner says. “I’ve been dreamin’ about Gary Banks lately.”

Goran and Pokey trade glances, chuckling.

“Keep your homo-erotic fantasies to yourself, Slim.”

“My what?”

Goran’s car pulls away. Skinner saunters back to his cruiser.

“Nice work, Good Year.”

Skinner looks into the glare of the sun. He can only make out the figure of a thin man.

“Good Year?”

“Yeah, you’re full of hot air, like a blimp. Still begging for chump change. Nice to see how far you’ve come along in the world.”

“Listen, Buster.”

“No, you listen, bucko. You owe me, and I’m coming to collect.”

Skinner covers his eyes with his hand, squinting.

The man is gone.

Playing with the ducks at Lake Kitchiwan, Sarah pauses, staring at Nelson and her mother.

“She must be getting tired,” Carol notes. “What’s up, buttercup?’

“Welcome home,” Sarah says, flashing a mischievous smile.

Carol grabs Nelson’s arm. “That’s not Sarah. Leave her alone, Gary!”

Sarah smiles. “Would I harm a kid?”

“How can we help you, Gary?” Nelson asks.

“Find me.”

Moments later, a police car pulls into the parking lot.

Skinner waddles toward them. “I thought you’d end up together once Ham was out of the picture.”

“You insensitive pig,” Carol snaps. “You ruined Ham’s life.”

“Moi?”

“How’d that baseball thing work out for you, Donovan? I keep lookin’ for your plaque in Cooperstown, but it’s never there.”

“I’m doing fine, Mule Train.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Mule Skinner.”

Skinner’s jaw tightens. “You’re about two seconds away from a strip search.”

“I didn’t know I was your type, Iggy.”

“Maybe I’ll let you watch me and your girlfriend have fun.”

“I’d be too busy laughing at the sight of you naked,” Carol replies.

Sarah watches the trio trade tense stares.

She tugs on Skinner’s wrinkled pants.

“This your rug rat, Hoak?”

Sarah’s eyes meet Skinner’s porky stare.

“Come clean, bucko.”

The blood drains from Skinner’s features.

Skinner’s voice quivers as he retreats. “I want you troublemakers out of town, pronto! I see you again and…”

“Tell the truth!” Sarah shouts.

Breathing furiously, Skinner stumbles to his car, speeding off.

“That’s a very guilty man,” Nelson says.

“And he needs to be followed,” Carol replies.

Nelson pulls the car onto a side road.

“Why don’t you two wait here?” Nelson says. “I can spy on Skinner alone.”

“We’re a team,” Sarah replies.

They head into the woods, following a path leading up a hill.

The sound of an oncoming car freezes them.

“Looks like Skinner’s got an accomplice.”

They hug the ground for several minutes, then continue along the path.

Skinner is a short distance away from the cars, digging frantically.

“Where’s the other guy?” Carol asks.

“Behind you,” a voice answers.

A rat-faced man points a gun at them.

“You people are as quiet as elephants,” Goran says. “You got to be stealthy to steal my cheddar.”

“...Cheddar…” Carol repeats, looking at Nelson.

“Let’s go see what Slim’s diggin’,” Goran says.

They walk toward Skinner, who wheezes loudly as he digs.

Carol covers her daughter’s eyes, suppressing a scream.

Skinner has unearthed a skeleton.

 “I told you to leave,” Skinner wheezes.

“Murderer,” Sarah says.

“Not me,” Skinner replies, crooking his thumb at Goran.

“People will be looking for us,” Carol says.

“Nah,” Goran responds. “Skinner told me neither of you have any family. You know, I owe you two thanks. We’re movin’ your friend because you’ve been snoopin’ around. Now we can cram all three of you in a grave with him.”

“We deserve to know how our friend died,” Carol says.

“Closure, eh?” Goran huffs. “Sure, I’ll tell ya.”

Gary checks his watch, whistling, “Teach Your Children.”

Inside Micky Finn’s bar, a conversation between Finn and Goran Hyde has turned sour.

Micky Finn may be seventy, but the barrel-chested veteran still has plenty of grit.

“I said get outta here, Hyde, and I mean it.”

“Not until we settle this,” Goran returns. “I make most of my cheddar here, and I give you a good cut.”

“I don’t want your dirty lucre anymore. I don’t want the cops comin’ here.”

“I own the cops,” Goran replies.

“Not Abe Skinner.”

“Chief Skinner is so decrepit they’ll soon be draggin’ him to work in an iron lung.”

“Abe gave me a warnin’. I’m gonna heed it.”

Goran reaches across the bar, grabbing Finn by his collar.

“Then ignore my warnin’ at your own risk.”

Finn breaks free. Reaching behind the bar, he finds his revolver, pointing it at Goran.

“If I ever see your ratty face in here again, Hyde, I’ll send you straight to hell where you belong.”

Gary pulls open the front door, distracting Finn.

Goran reaches into his jacket. Pulling out a gun, he fires three shots at Finn.

Finn’s perforated body slides to the floor.

Gary slams the door, racing down the street.

A man in a flannel shirt sprints past Skinner’s police car.

Skinner spins his car around, quickly catching up to the runner.

“So, what did you do now, Banks?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m glad to see you, Skinner. Some dude just shot Micky Finn. He’s probably looking for me.”

“Get in the back seat and stay low,” Skinner commands.

Skinner drives to Finn’s bar.

“What are you doing?” Gary protests. “The killer might still be here!”

“I know what I’m doin’.”

“I doubt it.”

Skinner pulls his bulk out of his car as Goran exits the bar.

“I got your witness in the back seat.”

“So, all that cheddar I’ve been feedin’ you has finally paid off. Meet me at the construction site near Lake Kitchiwan.”

“He’s just a kid,” Skinner says. “If you offer him money, he’ll see reason.”

“He’d better.”

Gary watches Goran’s car pull away.

“Excellent police work, Mule Skinner. You let him go?”

Skinner handcuffs Gary. “This is for your own protection. And don’t call me Mule Skinner.”

“You just set a killer free and now I’m trapped in the back of your car. I’m not exactly feeling safe.”

“Relax. It’s all gonna work out.”

Skinner drives out of town.

“The police station is the other way, Skinner.”

Skinner speeds up the hill toward the construction site.

The car Gary had seen at Finn’s is parked in the cul de sac.

Skinner parks behind it. He opens the back door, uncuffing Gary.

“Keep your trap shut and you might wind up getting rich.”

Skinner pushes Gary into the woods.

They reach a clearing where Goran is waiting for them.

“Is this the kid?”

“You never got a look at me,” Gary realizes.

“Nope, but I see you now. And you saw me do something you shouldn’t have.”

“I saw you murder Micky Finn.”

“You saw me defend myself against Finn. Here’s the deal, kid. I’m gonna give you fifteen thousand bucks. All you gotta do is leave town and never come back.”

“This is my home.”

“The ground you’re standin’ on will be your home if you don’t play ball. Fifteen large is a lot of cheddar.”

“I’m going to the police,” Gary replies. Staring angrily at Skinner, he adds, “The real police.”

“Hold him,” Goran commands.

Skinner pins Gary’s arms back. Goran balls up his fist.

Gary kicks Skinner in his shin. Yelping, Skinner releases him.

Gary runs down the path.

Goran draws his gun, firing two shots. The second one strikes Gary in the back of his leg. He pitches forward, hitting the ground.

Gary rolls over, grimacing. Goran stands over him, pointing the gun at his head.

Skinner stands behind him, huffing thunderously.

Gary locks eyes with Skinner.

“You’re going to let this psycho murder me for chump change? You’re a useless coward, Skinner. I swear, I’m going to haunt you.”

The last thing Gary hears is the blast from Goran’s gun.

“We buried him where he fell,” Goran says. You wanna hear somethin’ funny? Finn didn’t die and we made up.”

“So, Gary didn’t have to die,” Nelson says.

“But you do.”

Carol clutches Sarah. Nelson puts his arm around Carol, drawing her closer.

“That gun is going to make a lot of noise,” Nelson notes.

Goran reaches into his jacket. “That’s why Hiram Maxin invented the silencer.”

Goran twists the device onto the barrel of the gun, handing it to Skinner.

“I ain’t killin’ no kid.”

“You want her spillin’ her little guts to your daddy?”

“One Hoak is enough,” Skinner replies.

Goran snatches the gun back. “Helluva time to develop a conscience, Slim.”

Goran puts the gun against Skinner’s head, pulling the trigger.

Skinner looks at Goran, his expression a mixture of horror and surprise. The light in his eyes fades and he falls face-first, landing next to Gary’s grave.

Goran sighs. “He’s been a liability for years.”

Goran points the gun at Nelson, who shields Carol.

“Put it down, bucko,” a voice behind him says.

Goran turns to face Gary.

“Dying once wasn’t enough for you, Banks?”

Goran empties his gun at Gary.

Gary gives Goran a broad, satisfied grin, batting the gun from Goran’s hands.

Goran runs toward his car.

“Justice!” Gary shouts after him.

Goran looks in the rear-view mirror, seeing only darkness.

“It’s strange times when the dead don’t wanna stay dead,” he says aloud.

His headlights capture an object ahead of him.

As he draws closer, Goran recognizes the flannel shirt, the mop of blonde hair, and the ever-present mischievous grin.

Blood pours down Gary’s face. He holds up his hands. They’re smeared with blood.

Goran swerves, trying to avoid hitting Gary. The car jumps the guard rail, plummeting into Lake Kitchiwan.

Goran frantically claws at the door, realizing it’s locked.

Nelson, Carol, and Sarah reach the hill overlooking the lake in time to see Goran’s car disappear.

“Gary wanted me to give you both a message,” Sarah says. “He said, ‘Thanks, bucko.’”