The Last Kind Word by David Housewright

mug for both of us. It was so strong you could eat it with a fork. I told her it was excellent just the same. As I ate and drank, the old man moved between the refrigerator and the kitchen table. He opened the refrigerator and produced a can of cheap beer, which must have been tough to do because he was staring at me the entire time. He opened the beer and took a drink, then sat at the table across from me. He kept staring.
    â€œSomething I can do for you, Dad?” I asked.
    â€œYou look like a narc to me,” he said.
    â€œYou look like a district court judge.”
    The remark caught him by surprise. It took him a few beats before he realized that I didn’t mean it. In the silence that followed, Josie drifted to Jimmy’s side and whispered in his ear. He gave me a quick glance and disappeared into a bedroom. After he emerged, he walked right out the front door without a word. He was carrying something in his right hand, but I couldn’t see what it was.
    â€œYou want a beer?” the old man asked.
    â€œNo, thank you.”
    â€œI don’t trust a man who doesn’t drink. Seems like he’s hiding something.”
    â€œI don’t trust a man who drinks too much. He doesn’t hide anything.”
    He thought long and hard about that before replying. “Are you calling me a drunk?”
    â€œNever crossed my mind.” I don’t think he believed me, possibly because I was speaking around a mouthful of ham and cheese at the time. “Tell me about this job of yours,” I said. “This great grocery store heist.”
    â€œNone of your business,” Roy said. He was sitting on a sofa in the living room. I had to turn in my chair to see him. His young wife was sitting directly across from him. Her hands were folded in her lap and she was staring straight ahead. Her remarkable eyes now had the blank look of someone who had been gazing at an iPod too long.
    â€œI don’t know,” Skarda said. “Maybe he can help; give us some tips.”
    â€œUs? You’re not going.”
    Skarda turned in his chair and glared at Roy. “Who says?”
    â€œThe job was planned for five,” Josie said. “Besides, what if someone recognizes you?”
    â€œIn Silver Bay? No one’s gonna know me in Silver Bay.”
    â€œWe can’t take the risk.”
    â€œWell, then, who’s going to be your inside man?”
    â€œJimmy.”
    â€œJimmy?”
    As if on cue, the young man entered the cabin. He was carrying a black box about the size of an old transistor radio with a collapsible antenna.
    â€œCar’s clean,” he said.
    Josie gestured toward me, and Jimmy stepped over and extended the antenna on his box.
    â€œWhat is that?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s a frequency finder that I bought on Amazon. We use it to detect GPS trackers and other bugs, hidden cameras, phone taps, that sort of thing. We once found a GPS transmitter in a bag of money we stole.”
    I stood without argument, spread my arms and legs wide, and let him move the antenna over me. At the same time, I glanced down at Skarda’s feet, noticing his boots again.
    â€œNothing,” Jimmy said at last.
    â€œGood,” Josie said. “We don’t mean to offend you, Dyson, but—”
    â€œNow do your cousin,” I said.
    â€œWhat?” said Jimmy.
    â€œDo Dave. Check him out, too.”
    â€œC’mon,” Skarda said.
    â€œIt’ll only take a second,” Jimmy said.
    Skarda stood, and Jimmy ran the antenna over him while watching the box’s black and gold face. When he finished, he said, “He’s clean, too.”
    â€œWell, duh,” Skarda said.
    â€œEverybody happy?” I asked. “How ’bout you, Dad?”
    The old man smiled at me. He was a happy drunk. I liked that.
    â€œLike I said, we don’t mean any disrespect,” Josie told me.
    â€œPlease, don’t apologize,” I said.