Hamlet On A Budget Read online

out of the car and walked over to Wilson at the edge of the creek.

  “Its mine.” Wilson said defensively.

  “What's yours?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer, but unable to regain control of myself from the stupid side of my brain.

  “Its mine. I saw it first.” Wilson was trying pull something out of the water just below the bank. He had a long stick and was repeatedly pulling the object closer, but it kept slipping off the end of the stick before he could lift it out of the water.

  “What are you talking about?” I said leaning out over the bank a little. I spotted what looked like a suitcase tentatively dangling at the end of Wilson's stick.

  “I don't know, but its mine.” Wilson said firmly.

  He was about to lose it off the end of the stick again for what seemed like the tenth time in the minute I had been standing there. Without thinking, a behavior I was gifted at, I stepped down into the creek and grabbed the handle of what was indeed a small suitcase and dragged it up on to the bank.

  Wilson quickly grabbed it up and held it close to his chest. I shook my leg as I pulled it out of the creek.

  “Well, open it up. Let's see if we can figure out who it belongs to.” I said.

  Wilson stared at me. “It's mine. I found it.”

  I shook my head. “It belongs to someone. Open it up.”

  Reluctantly Wilson set the suitcase down on the ground. He reached for the latches, then stopped.

  “What?” I asked, impatiently. My soggy pant leg, sock and shoe was souring my typically cheery personality.

  “What if there's a bomb inside?” Wilson's hands shook a little. He eased himself back away from the suitcase. His greasy wild hair giving him a more pronounced fearful look.

  I sighed. “And what exactly would someone be bombing in Hamlet? Though, I could think of a number of places here that...well, anyway...” For a moment I considered the possibility of a bomb inside. Hm, where was Billy Fallon when you needed him. Reluctantly, I shrugged off the idea.

  I turned the suitcase around towards me. There were days since I had come back to Hamlet to house sit for my parents while they were on what seemed like a never ending vacation that I probably would have wished this suitcase did contain a bomb. I was approaching that feeling once again. Without hesitating I flipped the latches and opened the suitcase.

  We both stared at the contents for a quiet moment.

  “Mine...” Wilson whispered, slowly rubbing the gray stubble that always covered his face.

  I sat quietly staring at the only thing in the suitcase. Bundles of cash. Only one thought twirled around in my head: Trouble.

  .

  3

  “Sammy, that's mine!” Wilson whined as we stood in the garage of my parent's house.

  I turned back to face him. “I have been over this already. Sooner or later someone is going to come looking for this money and I have a strong feeling they are not going to be happy when they can't find it.”

  “Then they'll just go away.” Wilson said with a smile.

  “Not likely.” I said. I headed towards the basement door.

  “But, Sammy!”

  “Wilson, stop. I am going to hide this until we can find out where it came from. Until then---don't tell anyone. Understood?” I stared back at him.

  Wilson pouted, but nodded silently.

  “Besides,” I said, “we should be taking this to Russell, but I will sit on it for the moment.” I wasn't completely confident that Hamlet's finest, its one and only, would know what to do with it. While Russell Crane was fine for settling the endless onslaught of Hamlet's typical crime, bar fights and missing livestock, real crime and its inherent investigation was not his strength.

  “If no one comes looking for it,” I continued, “and we don't determine it belongs to anyone, then you can have it.”

  “How long will that take?” Wilson asked anxiously.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. We'll just have to see.”

  Wilson's shoulders slumped slightly.

  I glanced at my watch. 6:40. Crap. Even bigger trouble. Becky.

  “I need to go.” I said and lugged the suitcase into the house. 20 minutes, a dry pair of pants, socks and shoes later I pulled into the parking lot of the Hamlet Pub. Becky was standing outside the front door. She didn't look happy.

  “I know. I know.” I said in reply to Becky's steady stare as I walked up. “But I have a good reason for being late.”

  Becky shook her head. Her blonde ponytail waved back and forth. It suddenly conjured up an image to Sam of a scorpion's tail. “No, you don't.”

  I started to say something and changed my mind. “Well, it's kind of a good reason.” I explained to her Wilson's find and my plan for quietly sitting on the money.

  “So, you're just helping Wilson out? Is that it?” Becky looked at me.

  I nodded. “Yeah, just helping him out. That's all.”

  Becky nodded once. “And anytime you help someone out...?”

  I thought about that for a moment. I gave a lame shrug. “Well, yeah, but this time...” My voice trailed off. Yeah, these things never went well for me.

  “Where are we going to eat?” Becky asked, kindly letting me off the hook for the moment.

  “I...was thinking of pizza.” I said casually.

  “Oh, my, what surprise.” Becky sarcastically feigned shock.

  We climbed into the car and headed through the heart of town---which took all of one minute. I turned the car into the Hamlet Pizza House parking lot. Dennis, the owner greeted us at the door and seated us.

  Dennis was tall and lanky with sandy blonde hair. “Can I start you guys off with a salad?” He asked with a smile.

  I gave Dennis a look of disapproval. “If I wanted to eat healthy I wouldn't be having pizza.” Or eating here, I thought. Or eating in Hamlet.

  Becky waved me off. “A salad sounds fine. Thank you.”

  “Would you like to try our new red vinaigrette dressing?” Dennis asked her.

  “Red vinaigrette? That's a little highbrow for Hamlet, don't you think?” I asked.

  “Hush.” Becky said.

  “I'm trying to class up the place a bit.” Dennis replied.

  If that's the case you need to buy it by the barrel, I thought. I was sure Becky was reading my thoughts.

  “Be quiet.” She said.

  I shrugged. “I didn't say anything.”

  “Yes, you did.” Becky turned to Dennis. “Yes, I'll try it, thank you.” She said.

  Dennis scuttled off to the kitchen.

  “So, you're just going to sit on this money and wait until someone shows up looking for it?” Becky asked, clearly indicating she didn't think very highly of the idea.

  I half shrugged. “Something like that.”

  Becky shook her head. “That kind of money always has guns or lawyers attached to it.”

  I agreed with her with a slight nod. “I know.”

  “So, once again, you're going to stand there and wave your hands in the air and say 'Hey, trouble, here I am'.” Becky stared at me.

  “Honestly, Becky, I think, in this town, if went home and locked myself in the bathroom trouble would find me.”

  Becky sighed. “Probably, but you don't need to help it.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “And if there is trouble following that money how long do you think Wilson would last stumbling around Hamlet with a fist full of cash. It's not like he's the most discreet individual in this town.”

  Becky gave me a look and, for a moment, we were sharing the same thought: a world without Wilson Daggot. Not much further down that line of thinking were dancing unicorns and rainbows.

  Becky's salad came out, followed closely by our pizza.

  I had just finished a slice of pizza and was trying to figure out what seemed odd when Dennis appeared at the table.

  “How is everything?” Dennis asked.

  “OK...something seems different...” I said slowly.

  “Oh,
that's the pepperoni. It's new. I make it myself now. What do you think?” Dennis said with a nod.

  “Not sure.” I said, honestly. “You make it yourself?”

  Dennis nodded. “Yeah. Made fresh. I've got a new meat supplier. Barnard Weekes, you know, the town councilman, suggested it. Anyway, enjoy. Plenty more where that came from.” Dennis headed back to the kitchen.

  I got about half way through the next slice before a terrible thought crept into my head. A Hamlet town councilman with a new idea. That, in and of itself, was newsworthy, but I had already heard about something new coming from the town council and I didn't like the creepy connection my thoughts were making.

  “What? You're full? You haven't even eaten two pieces yet?” Becky asked, staring across at me.

  I was staring down at the pizza. I could swear some of the pepperonis were sadly staring back at me.

  “You don't like the new pepperoni?” Becky asked.

  Without lifting my eyes from the pizza I answered her. “I am afraid I may know some of them.”

  “What?”

  .

  4

  I parked the car next to what appeared to be an old church. It was, in fact, the township hall and, yes, it was an old church. If the sacred law of separation of church and state didn't drive any remnants of a deity out of the building then the quirky day to day activities that now went on there surely would.

  I walked in and approached the iron gates, or what seemed like iron gates, that was the front counter. It was manned by the inscrutable and formidable force that was Jesse, the township clerk. She turned to face me holding several file folders and, besides her gray and black hair, pulled back in a severe look, she was wearing the same look of hearty disapproval she always graced me with when I appeared in the hallowed halls of the township. I walked up to the counter and we stared