Jack Little Excerpt

For this week, I would like to offer an excerpt from my novel, Jack Little.

Enjoy!

On the Saturday following his flea market trip, he and his wife drove to a friend’s house in the Germantown section of the city. The friend was Tim Broderick. Tim’s father knew Will’s father and often the two dads hung out over at the Hodge’s when Will was a boy. Naturally Will and Tim played together while their dads played pool and talked about current events. They were never best friends, but they had stayed in contact over the years. Will did not know one single classmate from high school besides Tim. The others had disappeared from his life as old acquaintances often do.

The fireplace roared. Tim loved the crackle in his study. Tim was not considered rich, but he never really went without much of anything either. His father was in the construction business. Now his business was not the biggest outfit around, but his dad made quite a bit of money over the years. Tim sought the less laborious work of architecture. When he returned from college, he helped to design many of the structures his father oversaw building. Since his father died, Tim sold off the business and now only worked once in a while on contract. He had been married but was now a widow with no children. He was more than happy for any attention he received.

Will and his wife sat at the long oak table in Tim’s study. Two book cases held at least four hundred books. And knowing Tim he had read every single one of them. Tim returned to them after a few minutes with fresh coffee. Will thanked him and took a sip from his cup. His wife declined.

“Are you sure, honey? You haven’t had any coffee today.”

“It’s fine, dear. So, Tim. How have you been getting along?”

Tim sat in the recliner next to the table. He took a drink from his own cup and warmed his hands by the fire. The house was very warm, but it was more of a ritual for Tim. The rubbing of the hands together. An act man had done since his creation. Tim loved traditions. He enjoyed many with his wife before she passed on. Now in the presence of others, Tim came alive again.

“I’ve been reading mostly. I have a lot of time on my hands. It’s almost crazy how much time I have these days. My dad always said he never had enough time for anything, but me? Well I do.”

“But maybe you should get out of this house. Maybe go meet somebody.”

Will’s wife hated to think of anybody being unhappy or lonely. She had mentioned lots of her friends and relatives to Tim in the two years since his wife passed. He didn’t appear too interested. Will figured the man just loved one woman his whole life and wanted to keep it that way, but his wife persisted.

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Sure. There’s my friend who works at the salon. A really sweet girl. And just around your age.”

His wife continued talking up her friend from the salon. Will nodded along. The girl was quite a looker. Maybe she could help bring Tim out a bit. Perhaps his wife was right.

The flash caught his eye.

Will had to look twice to make sure. In the corner of Tim’s study sat a pitcher. But not just any pitcher. Will had been looking at nothing but antiques guides for weeks. He knew that pitcher was no ordinary pitcher but it was Depression era glassware. The antique show in Crossville would scoop it right up for quite a price. He should let his friend know about this great chance for profit.

After the coffee was done, they moved into the living room. Tim turned on the TV. He went into the kitchen where he and Will’s wife began preparing cocktail weenies. Will sat on the sofa and watched the football game on TV. Actually his eyes were on the screen but his mind remained fixated on the pitcher. Yes. After the cocktail weenies and a few beers, he would let his good friend Tim know that he had a special gem in his house worth a good bit of money. Will was on fairly easy street now with the money from the flea market. And he was developing an eye for antiques. Lots of treasure sat around on the shelves and in the attics and basements of thousands of men across the nation. Men who were too ignorant to know what they had and too lazy to try to find out. Will would capitalize on their folly. But not on his friend. Tim was too good a man for that.

An hour later, the three ate the cocktail weenies. Tim and Will drank a few beers while the wife read part of the book she had with her. She usually carried a book with her, but whenever they came to Tim’s she made sure to. She knew boys would watch their game and drink their beer, but she wasn’t going to be part of that. Will and Tim shared a few laughs and night fell. Around nine o’clock, Will and his wife left his friend’s house.

Over the next three days, Will told himself he would call Tim to tell him about the pitcher. That antique show was coming up in February. He started to call his friend. He flipped his phone open. He punched in the number. But then he closed it back. He threw on his jacket and went to his wife.

“Honey, I’m stepping out a minute. I think I might go see if I can’t find a new rake.”

She paused.

“Well I think all the leaves are gone for the year.”

“Yeah. But that one is old and just about done. I’d really like to replace it for next year. You know I like to stay ahead of things.”

She nodded.

He leaned in to kiss her.

“Want me to go?”

He told her that would be fine, but once again he slipped. There was a half-second delay. Her eyes told him she was not pleased although she said she was. She pecked him on the mouth and returned to her reading.

As he reached the front door, he turned back to her.

“Maybe we could go out to dinner tonight.”

She smiled to him.

“Sure. Where?”

“Anywhere you like, honey. Just think about it while I get us a new rake.”

She winked at him.

“Will do.”

He left his house and cruised around a while. He figured to pick up the rake first. He entered the Home Depot. He picked up the rake. Not a bad price. The quality was decent although they didn’t seem to make tools like they used to. But that was how things went. The best made things are usually hard to find. As hard to find as the pitcher in Tim’s house.

He pulled into Tim’s driveway. Tim had a two car garage and rarely left. Will figured him to be home. He walked to his front door and gave it two knocks. He peered around. The day was quiet. Very little traffic around. He gave it two additional knocks. Nothing.

From his earlier visits, he knew Tim had no security system. He tried the front door even though he figured it was locked. Tim was a careful guy. He would have locked it.

Wrong.

The door eased forward. Will stood there for a moment. He knew this was wrong. No. It wasn’t. He would see if his friend was home. Fairly likely considering the door was left open. He stepped inside.

The house was entirely quiet. No TV going. No radio. The central heating might be working but it was not running. Just dead silence. He stepped into the house with caution. Surely something hadn’t happened to his friend. He called out his name. No answer. He walked into the study. He thought maybe Tim would be curled up with a book at his fireplace. Maybe he fell asleep. He checked but found no sign of Tim and the fireplace sat cold and dormant. He stepped into the hallway. Called to his friend again. He checked the bathroom. He even pulled back the shower curtain. Nothing. He stepped back into the hallway. There were two bedrooms. He checked the first. Nothing out of the ordinary. He walked down to the second bedroom. He knocked lightly and called to his friend. Nothing. He entered the master bedroom.

The room was much darker than the rest of the house. Will literally could not see much of anything. He called to Tim again but got no answer. He flipped the light switch. Nothing but darkness. The bulb must have blown. He moved to the window. He drew back the curtains and turned to look. Just an empty bed. He checked the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Nothing. Once again he pulled back the curtain. Nothing.

Will figured to call his friend. After all he needed to let him know about this. He also felt some concern. It wasn’t like Tim to just go off and leave the house un-locked. Or he figured it was not typical behavior for him. He pulled out his cell phone and returned to the study. As he punched in the number he stared at the pitcher. Closing the phone, he walked to the pitcher and examined it. As he guessed it was in immaculate condition. It was real Depression era glassware and it would bring a great price. He stood holding the pitcher. Then the thought occurred to him.

On the drive back to his house, he figured Tim needed some cheering up. Will would take the pitcher to the antiques show and sell it himself. He would surprise Tim with the profits. Add a little cheer to his life. Besides Will would know the right price to get. Tim did not know about such matters. To Tim, the pitcher was covered with black enamel like that old falcon. Will made sure to leave the house unlocked. He returned to his house and placed the pitcher in the basement later that night while his wife slept.

For more, check out Jack Little here.

http://www.amazon.com/Jack-Little-Anthony-David-Mitchell-ebook/dp/B00JK6NWC8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1397207232&sr=8-1&keywords=jack+little+by+anthony+david+mitchell