He glanced at his watch. “Looks like that’ll be after lunch, so I’m going home.”
Hank grinned. “Can’t take that fatty barbecue and fried chicken on the buffet anymore?”
“Mom’s vegetable soup from last night will be a lot better on my stomach and waistline. You want to come?”
Hank shook his head. “I need to hang around here. With these numbnuts, you never know what could happen.”
Brent felt good driving home.
Only his concerns about that list of numbers marred his good humor.
Last night, after Bozin left, he and his mother had talked for nearly two hours. For once everybody seemed to be on the same page, and he was pleased the two women in his life apparently were going to get along. She apologized for going to Ashley behind his back, but he was actually grateful that she had. He was concerned, though, about Lori Anne. But Ashley assured him that she’d talk to their daughter and explain everything. To make a start they decided to do something together over the weekend, something fun all three of them would enjoy.
He arrived home and found his mother in the kitchen preparingham sandwiches for the boys next door. Grace Tanner had gone to the store and his mother was babysitting.
“They’re not having soup?” he asked.
“They placed an order for sandwiches and Doritos.”
“Where are they?”
“Last I saw they were headed down the street with a pack of the kids from the next block. I told ’em to be back here by 12:30.”
He grabbed a piece of wheat bread. “We’re down to one. IAM settled this morning.”
“Hank waiting to be the grand finale?”
“As always. He seems to come alive during these things.”
The house phone rang. He walked over and answered.
It was Hank. “Chris Bozin is dead.”
“Dead? The man was in my living room last night.”
Delivering an envelope.
“He’s dead now. Prostate cancer.”
He told himself to keep his voice calm. “You’d have never known. He did a good job concealing it.”
“He apparently kept it a secret from everyone.”
“That’s a shame. He seemed like a fine man. What about the negotiations?”
“Suspended for the afternoon out of respect. Brent, what was Bozin doing at your house last night?”
“That’s a good question. When I find out, I’ll let you know.”
He hung up and told his mother what happened.
“That poor man,” she said.
“I’ll pass on lunch. I need to get back to the mill.”
But before he did he left the kitchen and walked straight upstairs, Bozin’s words from last night ringing in his ears. “It’s important for me to know someone from the company has the information contained in there. If I become incapacitated or die, please open it and do exactly as it asks.” He’d respected that request and told no one about the envelope, not even his mother. The whole thing was strange, though a bit clearer now with Bozin’s secret illnessand sudden demise. He retrieved the envelope from the top of his closet, broke the seal, and spilled out the contents on the bed.
Four items.
