The Nightmarys - By Dan Poblocki Page 0,48
understand what this is about.”
“You do?” Timothy asked.
“You’ve heard the old stories,” Jack suggested simply. “You want to know if they’re true.”
“The old stories?” said Abigail.
“This city has tried to erase his legacy, both good and bad,” said Jack. “Over the years, people have often sought answers from me. In all honesty, when it comes to my father, I have no answers. I only have my opinion, and that is: my father was a good man … despite the evidence.” He smiled. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” The way Jack spoke reminded Timothy of someone reading a script, as if the old man didn’t believe his own words.
“How long have you lived in this house?” Timothy asked. “I thought this place was empty.”
“Oh, several months now. I’d been away from New Starkham for quite a while. Something brought me back, I guess. Nostalgia? I don’t know. When you’re my age, you don’t have too many friends left in the world. You return to your roots. Either that or move to Florida. And I hate Florida.” Jack choked out a laugh. “There’s one thing I can thank my daddy for: imprinting New Starkham in my brain. I’ve never forgotten this place or its people. I suppose you might say it’s all part of me now.” He pointed at them, his hand shaking. “You just wait. In sixty years, we’ll see where you end up. Tell me if I’m right.”
“But you’ll be …,” Timothy began, before stopping and turning bright red. Abigail glared at him.
“What?” said Jack. He laughed again. “Dead? Well … that’s probably true.”
Abigail stood up. “Mr. Hesselius …” Timothy’s nerves suddenly tied themselves up again. “We’re here because we’re trying to find out what happened when your father was … sent away. We spent the morning at the college library researching as much as possible about him. Timothy accidentally stumbled upon his old office. Gavin, the librarian, said he’d shown you around the place a couple of months ago. Is that true?”
The old man was quiet for several seconds. Timothy could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. Way to get right to the point, Abigail, he thought.
“Now, now,” said Jack, impressed, glancing at Timothy. “You’ve got yourself a sassy girlfriend.”
“She’s not my—” Timothy started, but Jack interrupted.
“It’s true. I read in the papers about the reappearance of my father’s belongings.” He paused. “Why are you so interested? What’s so important that you’d spend your Saturday morning at the library?”
“It’s hard to explain,” said Timothy.
“I really shouldn’t talk about it. My lawyer …”
“Mr. Hesselius—” Abigail said.
“Please, Hesselius was my father,” said the old man. “I’m Jack.” He sighed and nodded. “To answer your question, yes, the librarian was kind enough to allow me access to the room.”
Abigail leaned forward. “Did you find anything important?” she said slowly, as if her questions might scare him away. “Anything your father wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know about?”
Jack snorted in surprise. “What are you getting at?”
Abigail started to reach into her back pocket. Timothy’s mouth went dry. She pulled out the three baseball cards. Timothy clutched at the kitchen table. “Do these look familiar?” She got up and crossed to the oven.
“Where did you get …?” Jack was stunned. “Did you take those from the office?” Without hesitation, Abigail handed the cards to the old man.
“Not to keep,” she said. “Just for … reference.”
Jack’s hands shook as he examined the players’ faces. “Carlton Quigley. Bucky Jenkins. Leroy Fromm.” He looked up. “The Diamond Stars. These guys were Daddy’s favorites. He used to take me to games in Boston. I actually saw them play. These cards were very important to him. His pride and joy. I could never forget these,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “Thank you for bringing them back to me.”
Very quietly, Abigail answered, “You’re welcome.”
Jack’s reaction to the cards made Timothy feel safe again. The old man looked truly happy. Timothy stood up and said, “The cards were in a frame. The frame blocked a safe built into a bookshelf. Gavin said the safe was locked.”
Jack smiled. “Until I got there, it was,” he said. Abigail glanced at Timothy, confused. “These cards are more than just cards. They’re a clue my father left me a long time ago. It took me forever to figure it out. But the discovery of that room in the library certainly helped. I never even knew about it until I read about it. Pity they kept it sealed up