The house had been built by the same man who’d built all the town windmills, sometime after World War II. It contained a compact kitchen that was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar; the living room contained a two-cushion couch and two easy chairs, separated by a coffee table. The single bathroom had only a sink, toilet, and shower, no tub. The single bedroom contained a queen-sized bed. The bed frame butted against the wall at the head end, with not more than a six-inch-wide clearance on one side and two feet on the other, and no more than four feet at the end of the bed. When the sex got intense, the bed knocked on the wall between the bedroom and the living room and shook the entire structure.
Van Den Berg crossed the porch and walked in without knocking, where he found both chairs at the coffee table occupied, one by Fischer and the other by Skinner. A laptop computer sat in the middle of the table.
“What’s the kid doing here?” he asked.
Skinner shrugged, and Fischer said, “I went over to your house to clean it up a little bit and I got curious and I looked in your computer and you know what I found? Porn. All kinds of disgusting porn. You pig. We are no longer engaged.”
She had her one-third carat diamond ring in her hand and she threw it at him. He tried to grab it, but it bounced off his chest and landed on the floor. She threw something again, this time a house key, and he managed to catch it. “I’ll want my key,” she said. “Right now.”
Van Den Berg was taken aback, and some of his confidence leaked away. He thought he might be able to talk his way out of it, but it’d be tougher with the kid sitting there. “We can chat about it,” he said, as he stooped to pick up the ring. To Skinner, he said, “Get lost, dickwad.”
“We’re waiting for Wardell,” Skinner said. “He should be here in a minute or two.”
“Oh? He wants to talk about the Virgin Mary, huh?”
“Not really,” Skinner said. “I’m making a movie, and I’m hoping you three will give me some criticism, to make it better.”
“You’re making a fuckin’ movie? Of what? The Virgin Mary?” Van Den Berg hee-hawed, and at that moment they heard the odd, unmatched footfalls of the mayor on the porch. Fischer shouted, “Come in,” before Holland knocked and pushed through the door. He said, “Hey, Larry. Skinner. Jennie.”
“Now that everybody’s here, let’s get the movie going,” Skinner said.
Van Den Berg said to Fischer, “I’m not here for no movie. We gotta talk.”
“Give me my key,” she said.
“Everybody quiet down, the movie’s started,” Skinner said. “It’s only a minute or two long.”
The movie started on the laptop, a shaky video of a farmhouse. There was a voice-over, recognizable as Skinner. Van Den Berg, much to his surprise, was immediately engaged.
I’m at the farm of Ralph Van Den Berg, as you can see. Right here we’re crossing the ditch and fence into Ralph’s woodlot, but wait, what’s this? A trailer from a tractor-trailer, back in the woods? Wonder what that’s doing here? It’s almost new. Still has this year’s license plate.
There was a close-up of the plate, and then a jump cut, and all the shadows shifted, as if a couple of hours had passed. A silver GMC pickup backed up to the trailer, and a man got out. A whispered voice said,
I believe that’s Ralph. Wonder what he’s doing?
That became clear when Ralph Van Den Berg took a padlock off the trailer, rolled the door up, and began loading boxes of Legos into the pickup.
Oh, my goodness. Look at all the Legos. L’eggo my Legos . . .
“What the fuck is this all about?” Van Den Berg demanded, as the movie rolled on and his brother unloaded more Legos into the bed of the pickup.
Holland cleared his throat. “Well, you called Jennie and said you thought she looked a lot like our Virgin Mary. She’s not the Virgin Mary, but she does look a little like her. All you’d have to do to fuck up the town, Larry, is start talking it around. We can’t have that.”
“Bullshit. What you mean is, you and this fuckin’ Skinner can’t have it,” Van Den Berg said.
“However you want to cut it,” Holland said. “The Marian apparition is real. Jennie had nothing to do with it. But a few people think it was faked somehow, and if you start talking it around . . . well, you’ll wreck the town. So, as mayor, I’ll tell you what, Larry. You say one fuckin’ word about Jennie being the Virgin, and we’ll take this movie down to the Iowa cops. Me’n Skinner tried to figure out how much a trailer full of Legos was worth and we came up with a half million dollars minimum. And it could be a million, depending on which sets you got. That about right?”
“You motherfuckers,” Van Den Berg said.
“We’re the motherfuckers?” Holland asked, his voice rising to a dangerous growl. “You’re threatening to wreck the town, and we’re the motherfuckers? You stole a trailer full of Legos, and we’re the motherfuckers? l’ll tell you something else, Larry. We have a state cop in town, and I kinda casually asked how long somebody who stole a half million dollars’ worth of merchandise would go to prison for. He said maybe two years, unless there were exacerbating circumstances. There’s nothing like destroying a town’s economy to qualify as an exacerbating circumstance, Larry. You go to trial in this county, and I believe you’d get five to ten. Of course, you’d have your brother in there to keep you company.”
Skinner said, “We’d hate to see anybody from our town go to jail, Larry.”
“You know what I want? Does anybody know what I want?” Fischer asked. “Nine years with an engagement ring but no wedding?”
Skinner said, “Uh, what do you want, Janet?”
Fischer looked at Van Den Berg. “I want a cut of those Legos, that’s what I want, Larry.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Van Den Berg said. He stalked out, across the porch, across the yard. He ignored the line of sweet-smelling lilacs.
Fischer shouted after him, “I want my key.”
They watched him go, and when he was out of sight, Holland said, “I think we’re okay.”
Fischer said, “I’m sitting here thinking about it, and you know what? I do want a cut of those Legos. Nine years. What am I supposed to do now?”
Skinner said, “Jennie, you’re the prettiest girl in the county, and one of the smartest. You’ll have all kinds of dating opportunities now that Larry won’t be around. I’d bet you a hundred dollars that you’ll have a husband and a kid in two years, and a whole happy life.”
Fischer said, “Stick it up your ass, Skinner.”
* * *
—
Skinner and Holland left, satisfied that they’d fended off the threat from Van Den Berg. Fischer sat on her two-cushion couch and thought about her nine lost years. She was now making great money down at Skinner & Holland, but who knew how long that would last? Van Den Berg was a man who liked his beer—make that beers, plural—and she’d bet that sooner or later he’d start talking about who the Virgin Mary resembled.
If those Legos were worth a half million, and if the Van Den Bergs were selling them for twenty-five percent of their retail value, like Skinner thought, they’d be getting a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, no tax. And if they were worth a million, they’d be getting two hundred and fifty thousand.
The longer she thought about it, the angrier she got—nine years!—until she finally put on her jacket and walked over to Van Den Berg’s house. There, she pounded on the door until a still-angry Van Den Berg opened up, and demanded, “What do you want?”
“Nine years back, Larry, that’s what I want. You have been fooling around on me the whole time. That gentleman’s club out by Cheyenne, where you stop both coming and going, that’s no better than a whorehouse. I want my key. And I want some of that Lego money.”
Van Den Berg had a beer in his left hand, and it wasn’t the first of the day. He glowered at her, then said, “There ain’t no more money. The Legos are long gone.”
She knew he was lying because Skinner had maneuvered around the woodlot while Ralph Van Den Berg was hauling the Legos to his house for packing, and she could see from Skinner’s video that the truck was still more than half-full.
“You’re lying, Larry. We got photographic proof.”
“That fuckin’ . . .” He pushed the door open. “I’m not gonna stand here, arguing. You better come in.”
She stepped inside as he stepped back, and she said, “All I want is my share.”
“Tell you what I’ll give you,” he said. “How about this?”