Hotel Nebraska

 

Secrets are only secrets so long as they are kept a secret.  How long a secret remains a secret is moot since a secret is no longer a secret once it is known.  Once a secret is known it is not a secret it all, it is a known.  Once a known is known, it hardly ever matters if it were once a secret.  Secrets are only secrets if they are buried with the parties keeping them.  Should one party fail to keep a secret, and it becomes a known, then the secret can no longer be called a secret; and since a proper secret is never told, it last forever, meaning it is eternal and immortal.  Therefore, even though a proper secret must have a beginning, it doesn’t ever have an end.  It is timeless.  So what you thought might have once been a secret, was never a secret because it did not withstand the secret test of time.  I pissed my pants in 6th grade and then pretended to fall into a huge puddle to hide my shame… Y’see, now it’s not a secret.

 

In Nebraska off of Highway 34, not too far outside of Kansas, there is a hotel full of secrets.  So many secrets waiting to be discovered.  But to learn a secret, you have to leave a secret.  And only the Secret Keeper can decide whether your secret is worthy of another secret.  Y’see, your secret doesn’t just need to be juicy, it needs to be worthy.  And from time to time, the Secret Keeper, the bar tender at the hotel bar, will be generous and exchange a little secret for a little secret; none of which ever amounts to more than light gossip.

 

Which brings up the thrill seeking Secret Seekers.  These are curiositors.  Some way or another they learned about the rumors of the hotel and go there with grandeurous dreams of learning the secrets of who really killed President Kennedy or who really killed President Kennedy.  These douchebags are rarely afforded more than passive attention from the Secret Keeper Bar Tender and are often quickly dismissed by the Permanent Residents.

 

The Permanent Residents, believed to be government agents, never leave the Hotel.  They occupy three of the bottom four rooms.  No one is completely sure who they work for although everyone is fairly certain all three Residents work for different interest within the government.  Of course, it’s all speculative as to who these Residents are and if they really do work for government agencies.  But it is known that every hotel patron is thoroughly conversed with by the Residents.  Assumably to prevent the leak of government secrets by anyone who may try to leak those secrets.

 

And finally, the Secret Tellers. Those who have no desire to learn any of the hotel’s secrets and only wish to use it’s services to divulge. Whether they wish to tell their secrets for the chance the world may find out their truths, or maybe they just want to get the guilt off their chest, or maybe they just want a bar tender to hear their story.  Whatever it is, they are always given a secret in turn, even if they do not want another secret in return...

 

The following is a tale of a secret given and a secret learned.  It’s a murder mystery sans the mystery because let’s face it, I’m too drunk to come up with a good mystery.  A tale of two brothers and an inheritance left by their father which was to be disputed.

 

The Secret Given:

 

Riley had successfully checked into the hotel.  His room was the fourth and final room on the second floor.  He did not bother to unpack his small bag; rather he quickly walked into his room, tossed his small carry on luggage onto the bed and headed out of the room before the door could close behind him.  Waiting for him at his door was one of the Residents who had seemingly just appeared.

 

The Resident: “Small bag and in a hurry.  No doubt in a hurry to get downstairs and try some of Megan’s Famous Pickled Eggs.  I mean, there ain’t much else to be excited for around here.”

 

Riley: “That’s right, you’re one of the ones who lives here, aren’t you?  Look, I know the games, I’ve been told all about it, and I ain’t here to talk with you.”

 

The Resident: “Oh, buddy, you have no idea of the games I play.  But, since you seem so we’ll learned about me and what it is you think I do, why don’t we just cut to the chase.  Why are you here?”

 

Riley: “I’m here for Megan’s Famous Pickled Eggs.”

 

The Resident: “Ha. I lied about her eggs, they ain’t famous.  Rather infamous.  Those eggs are down right inedible.”

 

Riley: “You mean to tell me I just got off a six hour flight, and a nearly four hour drive, just to find out Megan’s Famous Pickled Egg’s are really infamous eggs.  I wasted all this time for bad eggs.  Is it the eggs that are bad or is it the pickling.”

 

The Resident: “Oh, I suppose it might have something to do with how long she boils them.  Sweet ol’ Lady Megan says she leaves them in the rolling boil at least 16 minutes.  Y’know, so that she can kill off all that Salmonella, so she says.”

 

Riley: “You can’t leave the eggs in that long.  That’ll grey the yolks and turn the whites to rubber.  Everyone knows you put the eggs in the water, add salt the make them easier to peel, bring the water to boiling, remove from heat, and let the eggs sit no more than nine minutes; eight if you’re planning on pickling them.”

 

The Resident: “Of course, everyone knows that.  And, as far as pickling goes, she uses Eucalyptus leaves along with other questionable spices.  Says it’s to prevent bacteria building up in the stomach.”

 

Riley: “That’d be lethal!”

 

The Resident: “The Eucalyptus of the stomach bacteria?”

 

Riley:  “The Eucalyptus.”

 

The Resident: “Absolutely it would; and that’s why I don’t believe for one second you are here for those eggs.  So maybe let me in on what brings you to the world’s worst located hotel.”

 

Riley: “Can’t talk now, I gotta check out these eggs.”

 

With that, Riley blasted past The Resident and down the hall to the stairs.  The Resident caught Riley’s door before it closed and nonchalantly peeked in.  Riley called from the stairs, “Feel free, ain’t nothing in my bag but airplane underwear.” Which we all know is the worst underwear.  Stewing and basting all day in travel ass juices.  Don’t even pretend you got a decent wipe in that tiny ass airplane bathroom.  Plus, sitting in those tight airplane seats with you legs that close together for that long guarantees a river of ball sweat so raging it could run all the slides at a water park.  And that river isn’t dumping out into a cozy catch pool at the end of Summer Surf Scrotum Slide, it’s pooling directly under that half-ass ass wipe you screwed up earlier in the bathroom.  Not to mention after the flight, you gotta walk three miles to find a bathroom so that you can tackle that mess, but as you walk hurriedly through the airport all your doing is mixing that brownie batter like protein in a blender bottle.  

 

The Resident knew this and wisely chose to believe Riley.

 

As Riley got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the hallway, he was greeted by another Resident who was blocking his way.

 

Second Resident: “I wouldn’t worry about Jay, he can be a little forward and impolite at times.  He doesn’t get out much.”

 

Riley: “That’s nice.”

 

Riley tried to side step the Second Resident.

 

Second Resident: “Speaking of not getting out much, what’s new with you, what brings you here, man?”

 

Riley: “I told the first guy, Jay, that I get what your trying to do and I don’t have the time for you guys.”

 

Second Resident: “Hey man, that’s cool, just trying to catch up y’know.”

 

Riley juked the Second Resident: “I don’t know you, ain’t got nothing to catch up on.”

 

Second Resident: “My bad, my name’s Jordan.  That’s cool, I’ll catch you later.”

 

As Riley almost reached the end of the hall a door to one of the rooms opened with  Third Resident in the door way, “Sup?”

 

Jordan called to the Third Resident: “It’s not a good time, Dwhite.  He doesn’t want to talk.”

 

Dwhite replied to Jordan while stirring his drink: “*YAWNING*, that’s cool, it’s too early for this noise anyway.”

 

Jordan: “It’s five in the afternoon.”

 

Dwhite, still yawning: “Fuck it’s early.”

 

To get to the bar, Riley had to walk through the lobby, passed the desk clerk.

 

Clerk, not looking up from his paper: “Enjoying your stay?”

 

Riley, full step not looking to the Clerk: “Exhilarating. Sure is a lot of nosy around people here.”

 

Clerk, still not looking up: “That’s good.”

 

Riley entered the bar stage left of the clerk.  To Riley’s surprise, there were actually a few people in the bar. A couple single patrons strewn about in dark corners and a single couple sitting along a quiet wall facing each other, whispering sweet somethings. No one was actually sitting at the bar.  I wish I could tell you that the bar had a clever name relating to secret divulging like “Loose Lips” or “The Speak Easy” or “The Babbling Brandy” or “Loose Lips” because I was thinking of something else when I first said “Loose Lips”.

 

Riley sat at the bar and began reading the chalked menu written on the wall.  Drinks like “Ship Sinker”, “Classified Cocktail”, and “The Kennedy Shot” took the place of such drinks as “Sex on the Beach”, “Panty Dropper”, and “The Kennedy Shot”.  The Bar Tender was ragging a pint glass such as bar tenders do.  He acknowledged Riley’s presence, put down the ragged glass, walked over to Riley, retrieved another glass, and began ragging that one.  Not looking at Riley the Bar Tender asked, “So what can I get you?”

 

Riley: “Well, I guess I’ll have a beer.  I’ll take a Bu–“

 

Bar Tender: “We ain’t got it, we only carry Nebraska Chill and Neb Chill Light.”

 

Riley: “That’d be a first for me.  Let me get a Nebraska Chill.”

 

Bar Tender: “Glass or a Bottle?”

 

Riley: “Glass.”

 

Bar Tender: “We ain’t got it on tap.  All we got is the bottle.”

 

Riley: “Then why’d you ask?”

 

Bar Tender: “I thought you were gonna order the Light.  You did order the Light before you changed your mind.”

 

Riley: “I don’t remember… I’ll take the bottle.”

 

The Bar Tender opened two bottles and gave them to Riley.

 

Riley: “I only ordered the one.”

 

Bar Tender: “You’re going to order more.  Here,” he opened a third and placed it in front of Riley, “you were going to order that one too.”

 

Riley: “Okay, sure, I’ll have three.”

 

Bar Tender: “I figure I know why you’re here; I’ve been doing this long enough.  I’ve seen plenty of people, read their faces, their body language, and heard their stories.  You have the demeanor of someone with an exciting story to tell.  Maybe not so depressing as other stories.  Maybe not as dark.  You look like a man who has come into a big inheritance, like a man with more money than he knows how to spend.”

 

Riley: “Wow, you can tell all that just by looking at me?’

 

Bar Tender: “No, I seen you on the T.V.  Big Scandal.  Made national news.  Figured you had all this money, you could afford three beers.  How bout a fourth?”

 

Riley: “No, these ones are already getting warm.”

 

Bar Tender: “Do you want to talk about it?’

 

Riley: “Not much to talk about, they’re just warm beers.”

 

Bar Tender: “No, your inheritance and your family and why your here.”

 

Riley: “Oh, yes, yeah.”  Riley leaned in and looked around, “I was hoping to share my story with at least one person and I hear you’re the man to see.”

 

Bar Tender: “And I assume you know the rules?  Tell a secret, learn a secret.  No matter what it is I decide to tell you.”

 

Riley: “That’s what I’ve heard.  I come here with a clean conscience.  Just ‘exciting’ things I don’t feel I can tell anyone else.”

 

Bar Tender: “Ooh, exciting things would be a nice change of pace for me.  What do you know about the man who killed Houdini?”

 

Riley: “I’m sorry, the man who what?”

 

Bar Tender: “The man who killed Houdini.  What do you know about him?”

 

Riley: “I guess I don’t know anything about him.”

 

Bar Tender: “I think about that guy a lot.  Sad story really.  It’s not unknown.  Just some guy who wanted to test the claims of another guy and killed him.”

 

Riley: “Don’t follow.”

 

Bar Tender: “Well, Houdini claimed that he could take a punch from any man.  It was part of his magic act, though I’m not sure how getting punched is magic.  Some of the biggest, meanest men would take up Houdini on his challenge.  They would get up there on the stage, and slug Houdini square in the gut.  Like taking a cannon ball to the belly.”

 

Riley: “And one day he met his match up on stage?”

 

Bar Tender: “No, not really.  See, there was this guy, who, as far as I can figure must’ve been a fan, one day bumped into Houdini.  Instead of asking for an autograph, which I assume was not a thing at the time, the man decided to punch Houdini instead.  Some say it was a sucker punch but I believe it was more of a spur of the moment thing.”

 

Riley: “Right, like when you meet someone famous and all you can think to do is try to sing one of their songs.”

 

Bar Tender: “Exactly.  So this man hauls off and punches an unexpecting Houdini–“

 

Riley: “Sounds like a sex act.”

 

Bar Tender: “Sure.  So after this guy punches Houdini, Houdini falls to the ground in considerable pain.  He tries to walk it off for the next week, even performing shows, but the pain keeps getting worse.  His doctor tells him he needs immediate surgery and he tells the doctor the show must go on or some something like that.  He goes on to do a show one night and ends up dying because of a hernia or appendicitis or something to do with getting punched by that guy..”

 

Riley: “Sure, but I hardly think we can blame the guy for taking him up on his challenge.”

 

Bar Tender: “That’s what I said.  And the sad part is that the guy who punched Houdini and killed him got to live another 30 or 40 years.  I often think about that guy.  What his life must’ve been like in the decades following.  Who knows, maybe this guy had a family.  Maybe he was out one day in the yard, pushing his kid on the tire swing, his wife and daughter are making some fresh lemonade, ‘good catch son!’ he calls out to on of his boys…. and then bam!  He remembers he’s the man who killed Houdini.  He’s beautiful life comes crumbling down every time he thinks of it.  And then it becomes so perpetual, he can’t ever remember being happy.  Every time he feels joy, he starts to wonder subconsciously what this feeling is and why he never feels it anymore.  And each time he is reminded almost instantly that he killed Houdini.  I’d imagine a life like that would cause a man to never want to be happy because in this case, happiness becomes a horrible reminder of guilt and shame.  I don’t know, I think about it a lot.”

 

Riley: “So is this what I’m supposed to be learning because I’m not…”

 

Bar Tender: “No, none of this is secret.  It’s just that I spend all my time listening to other peoples stories and then telling them the stories of other people who they don’t wish to really hear about and I’m stuck never getting to talk about the things that interest me.”

 

Riley: “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Bar Tender: “Not much else to say really, just that I often wonder about the guy who killed Houdini.”

 

Riley: “No, do you want to talk about how you’re always listening to other peoples stories and never getting to tell your own?”

 

Bar Tender: “No.  I think its time you tell me what it is you got to say.”

 

Riley automatically snappened into story mode:

 

“Okay, get this.  I’m sure you already know most of this since its been all over the news and social media.  Yes, my father died and left an immense fortune to me and my brother; as well as control through the majority of shares to a number of very powerful companies.  Naturally anyone and everyone who has ever even been in the same county as my father felt they had a claim to his money.  Naturally you would imagine that it would be years and years of legal processes and judge rulings and appeals.  That’s why my father planned ahead for this in his will and assigned power of attorney to his best friend, Robert Mayleck.  Mr. Mayleck has always been a long time loyalist of my father and has always done right by my dad.  He is an aggressive attorney and my father knew he could trust him.

 

“My father also knew that it would be easier to include some of the less extended family in his will rather than just leave it only to me and my brother.  In his will, my father stated that besides me and my brother, those who were entitled to his post mortem fortune would be limited to nieces, nephews, first cousins, and the like.  Nothing too far extended.  My brother and I would still inherit the majority of his wealth, but it was all to be divvied up in a sorta reverse bell curve.  My father often told us in his final years that he knew everyone was coming for his money and that this would be the only way to guarantee me and my brother were still going to get what was ours.

 

“The will clearly stated that after his death, those credibly claiming to be family members or blood relatives would have exactly one month from the date of internment to file for a blood test.  To prevent every man, woman, and child on the whole east coast from applying for the blood test, Mr. Mayleck made it known that each application would cost a total of $500 grand.  Those who could not afford the application for the test, could have it deducted from their share of the inheritance.  Those who could not afford it, and failed the blood test, were now liable to pay Mr. Mayleck the $500 grand, personally.  And as I said before, Mr. Mayleck is a well known tenacious lawyer with a win/lose record that’d make Mayweather jealous.  It’s things like that that made my father put him in charge.

 

“All in all, it turned out to be exactly how it should have.  My two aunts: Kathleen and Meredith; my uncles: Carter, Lester, and Fish; and my cousins: Jackson, Matt, Aundria, Aubrey, and Andy showed up to take the test.   Each and every one of them were the nicest people you could’ve ever hoped to meet.  They were all well off in their own lives before this.  They were all well liked and loved by everyone they had ever met.  But wealth, mad wealth, changes everyone who gets close to it.  And it was apparent to me then, that when they had first learned of their share of my father’s wealth, it had begun to change them.

 

“Each and everyone of them that day of the blood test arrived as if they were the kings and queens of their own.  The all spoke with noses turned up.  Not one of them offered me or my brother the slightest condolences.  It was all I could do to keep my brother from losing his mind.  My brother inherited by father’s irrational anger and temper.  My father often reminded me it was my duty and purpose in life to look after my brother and keep him cool.  To keep him on the straight and narrow.  I was still young so I don’t remember, but my father told me that from the day my brother was born, I was the only one who could keep him from crying uncontrollably.  Now, I had to keep him from losing his shit on these vultures.

 

“Even Uncle Fish, I mean damn, I used to really love Uncle Fish, even Uncle Fish was acting so different.  He complained about having to take a blood test and being afraid of needles.  I always figured Uncle Fish used heroin.  What did he have to be afraid of?  I once walked in on Uncle Fish banging the mom of one of the maids and all he did was give me a thumbs up and asked if we had any Fish Fingers left.

 

“And Uncle Carter and Aunt Kathleen.  They named their children Aundria, Aubrey, and Andy.  C’mon, that’s a douche move right?  Even with that, they used to be so giving and caring.  Their church practically made the entire family saints.  Aundria started a restaurant aimed solely at feeding the homeless where people all around the world could watch the restaurant stream in real time, listen to the stories of those afflicted in poverty, and donate anonymously to pay for other people’s meals.  And to be clear, the people hungry and looking for food didn’t need to tell their story to eat, most of them didn’t, but there was the opportunity there for them to explain their plights.  Aubrey used to take children from orphanages one on one to the clothing stores so that these kids could actually pick out their own clothes for once; making them feel like true individuals and not just another kid wearing the same shirt dozens more have already worn before them.  And Andy was pretty cool, too.

 

“Lester and Meredith met while trying to cure cancer.  In the midst of disease these two nerd doctors found love.  And I don’t mean that doctors are nerds.  I mean Lester and Meredith were doctors who were nerds.. or nerds who were doctors.  Not sure which one comes first.  Their son Jackson, wasn’t a nerd.  Jackson was an accomplished concert pianist and travelled the world.  Jackson was known everywhere it mattered.

 

“Matt.  Matt was pretty cool.  He was like Uncle Fish, although they never really liked each other.  My father never told me how Matt was related to us, but we always knew him as our cousin.  We did ask dad a few times who Matt’s parents were but our dad always side stepped the question or did his famous conversation twist to bring us out of one subject and into another without us realizing it.  And out of everyone, Matt seemed like he was the only one who didn’t care about the money.  Matt could take it or leave it.  I admired that about him.

 

“So we all met at my father’s home in Colorado to take the blood test.  And, we were supposed to stay at the house together while we waited in the results.  I know there’s faster test than what my father had chosen but he wanted to be extra sure so the test was to be triple crossed checked at three different laboratories.  Any discrepancies would be an automatic fail.  The reason he had us all staying at the house together was so that we could all hash out and come to an agreement on how the total of the inheritance was to be split.  

 

“Like I said, my brother and I were to get the majority. 51% split between the two of us.  The remaining 49% would be split eight ways.  Eight ways since naturally Carter and Meredith had married into the family and had no claim to the inheritance outside their marriages.  And since it wasn’t just the money we were getting… it was the stocks and shares and companies and assets and all that… it was going to be a good long while of sorting.

 

“But on that first day, right after we all had our blood drawn, it started to go south.

 

“Matt was the last one to have his blood taken.  As we all sat in the east wing foyer and began our preliminary talks, I could see Matt was starting to sweat.  I jokely asked, ‘What? Are you afraid you’re going to fail the test?’.

 

“Matt looked up at me and tried to respond but he choked on his words.  Others tried asking him if he was alright and offered him water but he just… I don’t know… like collapsed.  He began, I guess you would call it snoring.  I mean, he was out and he was snoring… but snoring aggressively.  His whole unconscious body would arch as he snored in.  We called in the doctor who had taken our blood but he turned out to be just a nurse.  A nurse who was as wide eyes as all of us.  We tried to get him to help but he said he wouldn’t know what to do.  However, he said this looked just like someone ODing on Fentanyl.  Apparently he had spent some time in the ER and was familiar with it.

 

“I knew my brother had used Fentanyl and other opiate type drugs.  I asked my brother if he had any Narcan but all he did was pull out his empty pockets and gave a shrug.

 

“The doctor called 911 but we all knew the paramedics would never be there in time.  We watched as Matt’s eyes rolled back and he convulsed to a still.  My brother stupidly said, ‘Damn, he’s the only one of you I liked.’ and then he left the room.

 

“Immediately the accusations against my brother started.  ‘He’s not stable’, ‘He’s just like your father’, ‘You heard the doctor, it was Fentanyl, who else would have Fentanyl?’ obviously no one looking at Uncle Fish like he hasn’t been inside a few Opium Dens.

 

“I had to give them the gentle reminder that my brother’s share would stay the same.  Neither my brother or I had anything to gain by one of them dying.  In fact, they were the only ones with anything to gain.  And just like that, they all became suspicious of each other.  They would reservedly confide in me but they still weren’t going to trust my brother.

 

“The coroner had Matt out of the house within an hour of him arriving.  Being that the house was so far from the city, I’m sure he just wanted to get back to his office and stack Matt with all the other bodies so that he could get home to his family.  The police seemed to be in a hurry as well.  They said they had found a small amount of white powder in Matt’s bag.  It hadn’t tested positive for Fentanyl yet but they said it was most likely because it wasn’t cut properly.  They believed that Matt got a whiff of something a little more potent than he was expecting.  Most everyone was adamant that Matt would never be involved in that but the police suggested they had found enough evidence to believe he was about that life.

 

“That night everyone had their own rooms.  My brother and I decided not to sleep in our old rooms.  I could tell that he was riding the fence of his rage.  If he were to lean one way, we would have a great giddy night.  Happy times.  If he were to lean the other, well then, it would be a night of cynicism and rage.  Just like our father.  So to combat that, and to keep him separated from everyone else, I decided he and I should spend the night in the theater.  A small room with 15 lazy boys all complete with massage settings.  Large screen taking up the front wall with a fully stocked snack bar in the back.  We used to sneak off every night we stayed in that house and stay up all night watching the movies we weren’t supposed to.

 

“And because we spent the night in the theater, we didn’t hear all the screaming.

 

“As we were watching all the horror movies we weren’t allowed to watch as children, everyone else in the house was living their own horror flick.  The three siblings, Aundria, Aubry, and Andy, had been found dead in their rooms.  Their mom, Kathleen, was the one who found them.  All three had foamy vomit coming from their mouths like they had been poisoned.  Kathleen had been screaming for help and when neither my brother or I came out to help, everyone began to suspect my brother again.

 

“I told them that we had fallen asleep watching movies in the theater and that there was no way that either of us could’ve heard them.  I also reiterated that they were now all that much richer and it must be one of them.  ‘Why haven’t any of you called 911, yet?’

 

“That’s when they told me the phone lines were down.  Not even their cellphones worked.  Once they had found the three bodies, and they weren’t able to call the police, Meredith and Jackson tried to leave and get help.  The problem was all of the vehicles had been disabled.  Ignition lines and fuel lines were cut.  Fuse boxes exploded.  Valve stems cut from the tires.  And one of the cars was missing.

 

“The tensions were high.  We all knew for sure now that Matt had not killed himself.  Now there was Aundria, Aubrey, and Andy.  The phone lines were down and there was no cell service.  And we soon found out why.

 

“It was Fish who first realized that we were on generator power.  We went outside to investigate and saw large plumes of smoke in the valley beneath us.  A forest fire.  The forest fire must’ve burned the only cell tower for the whole mountain.

 

“I explained to them that we weren’t getting any help anytime soon.  That the house and the acreage it’s on… the fire couldn’t touch it.  And the local emergency services knew it.  In fact, the few homes and houses out there are all pretty much impervious to forest fires.  Being that this is the only road in or out, and that all the emergency services are on the other side of the fire alley, every house on the hill is built fire ready.

 

“Questions began to arise about where the missing vehicle went.  Every car but one was inoperable.  And the one that we assumed could still drive, Carter’s truck, was missing.  Everyone at the house was still accounted for, including the dead siblings.  Everyone except Mr. Mayleck.  Mr. Mayleck was missing.  His car was one of the ones that was vandalized.  

 

“It didn’t make sense to anyone why Mr. Mayleck would vandalize his own car and steal another;  so no one suspected him.  We started debating whether or not he may have been murdered as well.  Maybe he was the one who took the last vehicle?  Maybe, when all the commotion started, he snuck out to get help from one of the nearby neighbors?  The closest neighbor being nine miles away.  Maybe he tried to tell us that he was going for help but his cellphone didn’t work.

 

“It was my brother who remembered and brought to our attention that dad used to keep a Satellite Phone somewhere in the house.  We decided to split up and look for the phone.  But Carter and Lester refused to take their eyes off of my brother so they began their search as a trio and we all set off to scavenger hunt for the Satellite Phone.

 

“About that time is when we heard Meredith start screaming bloody murder.  And I tell you, I heard it that time.  We all managed to find her through the maze like house.  She had found Mr. Mayleck and he seemed to have been poisoned just like the dead siblings.  But, he wasn’t dead.  He was close to dead, but he wasn’t dead.  To make matters worse, my brother had disappeared from the scene, making everyone even more suspicious.  However, he came right back and he had Ipecac.

 

“He tried to give it to Mr. Mayleck but the others stopped him. ‘You’re just trying to poison him more and finish the job’ ‘You know he can point you out as the killer’.  My brother countered ‘Who says you’re not the killer’ ‘You’re just trying to make sure he dies’ ‘Maybe one of you isn’t blood and you knew he’d find out’.

 

“While they argued I took the Ipecac and made Mr. Mayleck drink it.  He began vomiting way more than I would have expected.  I began directing the others to get water, gatorade, food, and towels.  That’s when we discovered Kathleen wasn’t there.  No one could remember if she had initially been there and left; or if she had even ever responded to Meredith’s screams.  Carter began to panic even more, his children were dead and now his wife was missing.  The death of his children was devastating and I hadn’t even realized that the one thing keeping him sane and operating to this point was keeping his wife safe.  But he was so focused on my brother, he had left his wife alone.

 

“That’s when Carter snapped, ‘It was you!’ he accused my brother as he shoved him to the wall.  My brother presented his case that he was with Carter since he had last seen his wife.  Carter brought up that he had conveniently excused himself upon finding Mr. Mayleck.  But would he have had the time to kill another person in that brief absence?

 

“It didn’t take long for them to find Kathleen.  To find her body.  She was lying in the washroom, with very obvious signs of strangulation.  Eyes were bulging out and blood red.  Carter broke down and began crying, but only briefly before he turned his rage to my brother again.  I did my best to keep them apart but it was getting violent.  The fighting stopped when Jackson saw that Kathleen’s finger nails were all pulled back as if she had clawed at her attacker.

 

“They immediately began pulling at my brother’s clothes to check him for claw marks.  He was clean.  Then, the attention turned to each other.  Everyone knew that the killer would have claw marks on them.  Deep, bloody marks.  Jackson didn’t hesitate to take off his shirt and spin around for everyone to see.  For whatever reason, the rest of us were hesitant.

 

“My brother was clean.  Jackson was clean.  That left Carter, Lester, Meredith, myself, and Uncle Fish.  Carter began spouting, ‘Why would any of you think I would kill my own family?  My wife and my kids???’ ‘Then show us you’re not scratched.’ ‘I shouldn’t have to do this!’

 

“I then pointed out, and maybe it wasn’t the best time to do this… but I then pointed out that Kathleen was my father’s sister.  Without Kathleen or his children, Carter wouldn’t be getting any of the inheritance.  Why would he have killed his own family?

 

“Reluctantly, we all gave in and showed each other we were clean of any claw marks.  But then Lester raised the question: ‘What about Mayleck?’

 

“Lester’s wife was quick to object.  She said we couldn’t check him;  that he was sick and poisoned.  How could he, or why would he have tried to kill Kathleen.  But her reasoning fell on deaf ears.  Someone had to be the killer and that killer was most definitely marked by Kathleen.

 

“We all rushed back to the room where we had found Mr. Mayleck.  He had a weak wheeze in his breath.  Carter and Lester ripped open the buttons on his shirt and lifted up his under shirt.  They checked his neck and arms.  Nothing.  Then someone suggested we check his back.  Meredith again began her objections, claiming we shouldn’t move him.  Again her pleas went ignored.  Mr. Mayleck groaned as they turned him over and pulled up his shirt.

 

“There they were, obvious scratch marks on his back.  But it didn’t quite add up…  ‘I don’t know, these don’t look like they’re murderous scratches’  ‘They’re scratch marks, he’s got scratch marks.  He killed my family.’  ‘But then why would he have poisoned himself?’  ‘So we wouldn’t suspect him.  I say we just finish it’.

 

“Meredith objected again.  And for good reason.  Turns out, she was the one who put those marks on Mr. Mayleck’s back.  Turns out, they were having an affair.  A steamy affair, judging by the scratches.  And she wasn’t the only one.  She knew and accused Lester of cheating on her with their secretary, Miranda.  Meredith admitted that she intended to divorce Lester after he got his share of the inheritance.  She intended to run away with Mr. Mayleck and half of Lester’s money.

 

“Lester and Meredith began arguing, ‘I never slept with Miranda’ ‘You know damn well you did’ ‘You’ll never see that money’ ‘You know Mayleck will destroy you in court’ ‘I can’t believe you would say this in front of our son’ ‘You’re not even his real father’ ‘We agreed to never tell him that’.  

 

“That was a revelation.

 

“Jackson really seemed unfazed.  Like he already knew Lester wasn’t his father.  Maybe this type of thing was common.  I mean for them to fight and argue, not all the murdering.  Y’know, now that I say it, maybe Jackson was more disturbed by all the murdering going on to think of his parents’ issues.  I mean, he was all grown up and out travelling the world.  Its not like he needed a stable home environment.

 

“Uncle Fish smirked, ‘I thought I was the fucked up one’ and then he announced he had to take a shit.  We all knew it was a bad idea.  We told him that everyone was there together and we couldn’t let anyone out of anyone’s sight.  The only ones not dead or dying were him, Lester, Meredith, Jackson, Carter, me, and my brother.  The killer had to be one of us seven.  He claimed, ‘Well, I know I’m not the killer and the bathroom is right there.  I’ll even leave the door open for you’.  Everyone thought that idea sucked.  Not him using the restroom, the idea of him taking a shit with the door open… that was the bad idea.

 

“I told Jackson to go check the bathroom just in case there could be a weapon in there.  Just in case Uncle Fish decided he was going to mass murder us after mass murdering the others.  Whoah, I guess it all does count as a mass murder.  Anyway, we agreed to let Uncle Fish use that restroom because we could see the door and we knew there was no way out the back, like a window or anything.

 

“Carter reiterated his suspicion of my brother.  In fact, it wasn’t suspicion, he knew, he knew it was my brother.  ‘Why are we even bothering.  We all know who the killer is.  Mad, crazy, just like his father.  Who cares about the money, he certainly doesn’t’.  Everyone started arguing again.

 

“As everyone argued, I realized Uncle Fish had been in the bathroom for a really long time.  We knocked on the door and called for him but after he didn’t respond, we broke the down door.  

 

“There was Uncle Fish, needle in his arm, drowned in the toilet.  No one had gone in or out of that bathroom since Uncle Fish went in there.  My brother asked Carter how he was going to blame this on him.

 

“I momentarily grew suspicious of Jackson.  I mean, I got real uneasy.  He was the one who went in the bathroom before Uncle Fish to check around.  But I knew I was going crazy.  They were never in the bathroom together and that’d be one hell of a magic trick; for Jackson to kill someone on the other side of a locked door.

 

“Carter spoke up saying the bullshit about me and my brother not having anything to gain just died with Uncle Fish.  Now that Unlce Fish was dead, and since we just found out that Jackson was not Lester’s son, Lester was the only blood left.  And since me and my brother had to inherit the majority of the money, our share went from 25.5% a piece, to 33.5% a piece.  Giving Lester 33% himself.

 

“Carter was right.  Carter snapped.  ‘You killed my family!’  Again he started to attack my brother but this time my brother wasn’t having it and he fought back.  He fought back hard.  Lester and Jackson joined in attacking my brother.  I tried to stop them but Meredith pulled me away saying I should stop trying to defend him.  She said I should open my eyes and see what was really going on.

 

“So as they fought, my brother picked up a table sculpture, a Gastun Vireli original, and cracked Lester over the head with it.  I tried to catch Lester as he fell but the dead weight was to much for me.  Lester landed face first on the tile and the blood began to pool fast.  I mean, like fast.  My brother tossed the Gastun Vireli to the side and took off running.  Carter and Jackson were hot on his heels.

 

“I tried to comfort Meredith who was sobbing.  It seemed like legitimate grief.  I know she said she was having an affair and that she was going to leave him, but I truly believe she still loved Lester and that whatever feelings she still had for Lester were now on full display.  She fell at his feet and pulled at his pants in a subconscious effort to get closer to him.  Maybe it was her guilt that kept her from holding him closer.  Maybe it was her inability to get up and crawl closer.  Maybe it was the fact the blood shot from the side of his head like ejaculate.  Whatever it was, we knew he was dead when the blood stopped squirting.  She begged me to find my brother and stop him.  I told her she needed to protect Mr. Mayleck, to make sure he was safe.

 

“As I ran through the house looking for my brother, I heard a gun shot from outside.  I ran out back to the balcony were my father used to shoot skeet.  There laid Jackson, attempting to hold the hole in his back.  He was shot near point blank in the lower spine with bird shot.  The bird shot wouldn’t kill him, but he for sure would never walk again.  He pointed to the woods far off in the distance and said Carter chased my brother out there.

 

“There was an old mini trail bike I used to ride sitting outside the well house.  I got on the bike, fired it up, and began heading to the trees where Jackson was pointing.  Over the loud sound of the tiny engine, I could hear another shot come from the trees.  It didn’t take long for me to trace the gun shot.  I found Carter standing over my unconscious brother, holding a shotgun to his face.

 

“I asked if he had killed my brother and he said ‘Not yet.’  He explained that he found my brother with the shotgun back at the house and as they fought for it, they shot Jackson in the back.  He said it was an accident but also said it was my brother’s fault.  I asked what had happened to my brother.  He said once he had caught up to my brother, my brother again fought back.  He said he used the butt of the gun to knock him out and that caused the shotgun to go off.

 

“I approached him slowly with my arms up.  I told him that if he killed my brother, it would be hard to prove he wasn’t the killer.  Even if his entire family was dead, and even if he didn’t stand to get any of the money, no one would believe him.  He really didn’t care much.  He had to come to peace on his own.  He had to decide if he wanted to avenge his family and possibly go to prison; or let the legal system judge my brother and possibly have him get off on some sort of technicality.

 

“I explained that Meredith just watched her husband’s skull get bashed in.  Jackson had a gunshot wound and was most likely paralyzed.  And he, Carter, hated my brother for killing his family.  Everyone alive in that house had a real reason to hate my brother; and everyone had a real reason to testify against him.  My brother’s history of violent and morbid outburst weren’t going to do him any favors in court, either.

 

“Carter agreed and we decided to tie up my brother and bring him back to the house.  When we got back, Meredith had conveniently found the Satellite Phone and had already called 911.  Apparently the phone was in the same room as Mr. Mayleck.  We stashed my hogtied brother in a hall closet and barricaded the door.  Carter and I went back to Jackson and patched up his wound.  There was spinal matter spaghettied out of his back.

 

“We took care of Mr. Mayleck and Jackson until the emergency personnel arrived.  First, two swat teams were flown in by fire helicopters.  Once they had secured the house, which by the way takes a long fucking time because they have to check every fucking room and be fucking tactical about it.  And there’s a lot of fucking rooms in that house.  Once they had secured the house, medical and investigative teams began showing up, also by helicopter.

 

“Maybe it was because my brother was public enemy number one.  Maybe it was because there was a forest fire in the valley below.  Maybe it was Maybelline.  But everything seemed rushed.  They took my brother into custody.  Mr. Mayleck and Jackson were flown out to the nearest hospital.  And Carter, Meredith, and I were taken in for questioning.  My brother, when they were finally able to question him, just went berserk and claimed they all deserved to die.”

 

The Bar Tender yelled out: “What the fuck are you doing here??”

 

Dwhite: “I want a drink.”

 

Bar Tender:  “You know you’re not allowed to be at the bar when I’m listening to my stories!”

 

Dwhite: “Where else am I supposed to get a drink?”

 

Bar Tender: “It’s not fucking here, Mark.  Now leave.”

 

Riley: “Mark?  I thought his name was Dwhite.”

 

Bar Tender: “No, they just say that to fuck with me…  Listen, friend, I got to be honest, none of this is a surprise.  It was all over the news.  There’s even a documentary being made.  What about this is such a secret you felt it was worth my time?”

 

Riley continued:

 

“Well, as I’m sure you guessed, since I’m here… it was me.  The whole thing was me.  I was the killer.  One hundred percent of an inheritance is much more than 25.5%.  In fact, its nearly four times as much.

 

“I started with the siblings; Aundria, Aubrey, and Andy.  I knew they had a tradition of sneaking liquor from the bar when they stayed at that house.  Hell, I practically grew up with them there.  Every night they were at that house as kids, they would sneak off and drink a few shots of coconut rum.  I knew they couldn’t resist it.  Being adults in the same house you used to do these mischievous activities in… Of course they are going to re-live that.  So before my brother and I watched our movies, I poisoned all the coconut rum I could find in the bar.  Sure, there was a chance someone else might drink the rum, but what did I care?  I planned to kill them all.

 

“As I was walking back to the theatre, I walked past the gym where I heard Meredith and Mr. Mayleck talking.  I over heard them discussing their plan.  I over heard them talking about faking Jackson’s test results so that he could get his share.  They knew Lester would be too distracted with the eminent divorce to ever wonder why or how Jackson got his cut of the money.  That’s when I remembered that every night Mr. Mayleck had a bottle of whine he would drink before bed.  I snuck into his room as he was still with Meredith and put the tiniest amount of poison in the glass.  Just enough to make him sick, but not die.  I mean, I needed Mr. Mayleck alive to get my money.

 

“Then I returned to the theatre with my brother, but only long enough to make sure he fell asleep watching movies.  Once he was asleep, I went out back and grabbed the mini bike.  I loaded it into Carter’s truck.  I made sure all the other vehicles were disabled.  I loaded Carter’s truck with gas cans, a flair, and a cinder block.  I drove Carter’s truck to the only cell tower on the whole mountain.  I lit a flair inside it, dropped the cinder block on the gas pedal, and sent it hurdling to the tower.  The tower instantly ignited.  And, since every cell tower is typically equipped with a mobile generator, I saved one gas can for that.  I doused the generator with gas, lit it, and pushed it down the hill to start the forest fire.

 

“I knew the ride back was going to be long and cold so I brought my dad’s old wrangling jacket… real thick raw hide jacket.  I had made it back to the house at about the same time Kathleen had found the dead siblings.  Knowing that shit was about to get intense, I went straight to the theatre and took the quickest power nap I could.  I never even took off the jacket.  I still had the jacket on when me and my brother met the others.  Everyone was so convinced it was my brother who had killed the siblings, no one questioned why I was dressed like I worked the oil fields in the Tundra.

 

“When everyone was looking for the Satellite Phone, I found Kathleen, alone and crying in the laundry room.  She didn’t know I was behind her so I thought ‘Carpe Diem!’ and I strangled her with a stray draw sting that had been lying on the floor of the laundry room.  She fought like a mother fucker, and clawed the shit out of the jacket, but I was untouched.  After she was dead, I ditched the jacket behind one of the washing machines.

 

“After that, things really started to handle themselves.  Lester was concerned with the affair, Carter knew my brother was the killer, Meredith worried about Mr. Mayleck, Jackson didn’t know what to think…  I didn’t plan for my brother to kill Lester, that shit happened naturally.  I mean, what luck, right?  And speaking of luck, I didn’t have to kill Jackson.  Who knew he wasn’t Lester’s son?

 

The Bar Tender: “What about Uncle Fishsticks?  How’d you manage to kill him?”

 

Riley continued,

 

“Another stroke of luck.  Uncle Fish committed suicide.  Yeah, they later found the note.  Apparently Matt, the only one I didn’t plan to kill, since I figured he wasn’t really related and I kinda liked him… Apparently Matt had gotten into Uncle Fish’s stash.  Yes, Matt was a junkie, but he was not on the same level as Uncle Fish.  And, he didn’t know the type of shit Uncle Fish was into.  What Matt thought was H2O was H2SO4.  That devastated Uncle Fish.  And as we found out through the suicide note, Uncle Fish was actually Matt’s father.  Whether Matt knew it or not, Uncle Fish was ashamed his estranged son was becoming him.

 

“I had plans to kill Uncle Fish, Lester, and Jackson but I didn’t have to.  Uncle fish killed himself, my brother killed Lester, and Jackson turned out not to be blood.  That makes me and my brother the last of the brood.  So now all I have to do is wait for Mr. Mayleck to make a full recovery.  Once he is out of the hospital, he will confirm the blood test and all the inheritance will be mine.  And, since my brother is in prison, all of his company control will be mine.  One hundred percent inheritance is better than 25.5 percent.

 

The Secret Learned:

 

The Bar Tender: “Wow, that is an impressive story.  Who would’ve thought the golden child was the fallen angel in all of this?”

 

Riley: “Right?”

 

The Bar Tender: “Well, you know the rules…  Now I have to tell you a secret.”

 

Riley: “I doubt I’ll care.”

 

The Bar Tender:  “I bet you will.”

 

Riley:  “Try me.”

 

The Bar Tender:  “You’re adopted.”