Who Is It That's Stealing My Food? - Part IV

”So you're telling me, Bob, that you think Luke is the son of some murdered bank robber?”

“That’s what I am telling you mate.  You need to be careful with this. The money was never found. They caught three of his friends for the robbery and murder."

"One, the worst of them, Frank Zappiano, was never caught.”

“He's quite the character. If he finds out the kid is alive and back at your place, he’ll connect the dots and think that’s where the money is.”

“Where has he been all this time anyway?”  asked Bob.

“No idea,” Jacob snapped back, pacing up and down the room in his newly acquired moon boot.  He had broken two of his toes when he kicked the stairs and will have the boot on for at least four weeks.

“Easy tiger,” replied Bob, feeling like he was the target of Jacob's frustration.

“Look, let me do some more digging; things might have changed,” said Bob.

“In the meantime, this is our secret until we figure out what you are going to do with the kid.”

“The kid has a name; it’s Luke Bob, and he has been through a lot!” Jacob snapped again.

“Why don't you go home, put your hoof up, and I will come by tonight and let you know what I have found out.”

"Okay. Thanks, mate, see you then.

******

Jacob got home. He was tense.  He felt like someone was watching him all the time now.

Luke was not around, in the house anyway. He needed to learn more. He had to find out what Luke knew about his father and if he knew where the money was.

He headed into to kitchen.  “Luke are you there?”

“It’s me, Jacob.”

“Can we have a chat?”

No reply.

He went over to the panel where he had seen Luke disappear.  He pushed on the panel.  Nothing happened.  He felt around for some sort of lever. 

Nothing.

He kicked the bottom with his new bionic boot, and as he did, the panel popped open. "Ah! A use for this damn boot after all."

He opened it. It made a high-pitched creaking sound. He was expecting it to be pitch black, but to his surprise, there were three lights that lit the way down some stairs.

“No wonder my electricity bill is always so damn high,” he muttered to himself as he eased down the stairs. One step at a time, he descended.  He was still trying to get the hang of walking in his boot, and the last thing he wanted was to fall and break his neck.

As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw Luke sitting on an old chair in the corner.  The area was much more spacious than he had imagined.  There was an old bed with a couple of blankets, a fold-away table, and the chair Luke was sitting in.

Other than that, and a wooden crate on the wall under the window covered in newspaper, the space was bare.  No shower, nothing to cook on, and no TV.  There was a lamp on the table and, in the corner on the ground, a pile of old newspapers.  Jacob wondered when they were from.

"Hello, Sir,” offered Luke, “What did you do to your foot?” he asked.

“I broke two of my toes last night,” replied Jacob.

Luke looked down as it was his fault. "I'm sorry."

Luke wandered over closer to the newspapers.  He wanted to see when they were from and what they were for.  There was no fire, so it couldn’t be to light a fire.  “Thank goodness for that,” he thought.

As he crossed the floor, he looked at the small window covered in newspaper where the crate was. He thought this must be how Luke came and went. Still, there was no light behind it, and he had never seen a window from outside.

“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” he asked as he got the newspapers.

As Luke replied, “Yes,” there it was in the first newspaper.

Headlines that read:

‘Ryan shot dead by three men."

“Well, that answers that question: Luke knew who his father was," he surmised.

"Hell of a way to find out," he thought to himself.

As they sat in the kitchen eating Jacob's sandwiches, he asked Luke where he had been since his dad left.

“I was in a foster home,” replied Luke.

"Why aren’t you still there, and who should I call to let them know you're all right?"

Luke immediately became agitated and nervous.

"No one, please don't call anyone,” Luke pleaded.

“Why not?” was the obvious question that Jacob asked.

“Alright, I promise I won’t call anyone, and if you don't tell me then I won’t know who not to anyway,” giving in and trying to stay calm and collected.

Sensing something was off and remembering how Luke had shrunk away last night as if he was going to be struck, he asked Luke, “What happened?”

Luke looked down at his plate and the part of the sandwich he had not eaten yet.  “I ran away.  They used to hit me and didn’t treat me well.”

“Once they thought that I had no idea where the money was, they didn’t want me anymore and started to abuse me.  So, I ran away a month ago and came here.”

Jacob almost choked on his sandwich.  “What are you talking about, what money?” knowing full well what Luke was talking about.

“Didn’t your foster parents try to find you?”  Jacob continued to probe.  He was starting to really feel for what Luke had been through.  His mother dying, his father a bank robber and then killed, only to be shuffled off to a foster family that abused him.  They probably only took him on thinking they would get this father’s money.

After a short silence, Luke replied.  “They did.  They came here looking for me.  You saw them, but they didn’t find me.”

"Whoa, wait a minute, what do you mean I saw them?”

"A couple of weeks ago, you came home, and there was a man in the yard.  He told you he had lost his cat and was looking for it."

Jacob suddenly remembered the man.  He had surprised Jacob.  Scared the crap out of him, to be more precise.  He had come around the corner of the house from the backyard.

“How do you know all this if he didn’t see you?” asked Jacob.

"Through my holes.  Do you want to see them?”

“No, I mean yes, but not just now,” desperate to know where Luke's spy holes were, but realizing now was not the right time.

“There is more,” offered Luke.

"Oh, I can’t wait,” Jacob thought to himself.

“The man, (Luke hesitated) the man, the man that was here, shot my dad!"

“What?"

"What?  What are you saying, Luke?”

“He shot my dad; they had a big argument over the money 'cause Dad wouldn't tell him where it was.  He was my dad's brother.”

****

Coming soon - Part V: The conclusion - Money, Money, Money.

You can read Part I - III here:

Till next time,

Calvin