The instant the Crawford gang entered the Farr Creek Savings Loan and interrupted his transaction at gun point, Bud Tucker knew the carnival fortuneteller was right; he was going to inherit young. Dicky Crawford, the gang’s leader, had vowed to the newspapers that he would kill as many bankers as he could before J. Edgar Hoover and his G-men tracked him down and put him out of his misery the way they did a month before to Dillinger.
Crawford blamed the banks for his wife’s suicide. She had put a gun in her mouth the day the Sheriff came to evict them from their small farm. Already Crawford had murdered three bank presidents, two in Indiana and the other in Columbus. Now he was in the back office forcing Bud’s Uncle Frank to open the safe. Bud was Frank’s only heir and he could barely hold back his glee. He crossed his fingers and prayed Crawford would up the score to four.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
The shots of a Browning automatic rifle jarred everyone in the bank. Old Miss McVeigh, Uncle Frank’s secretary, screamed. One thug with multiple scars on his cheeks went to pistol-whip her, but Milton Kaminski, the bank’s janitor, stepped between them and took the barrel full in the face.
I’ll be damned, thought Bud.
This was the first time he’d ever seen Milt stand up to anyone. Back in grade school, Bud always snatched Milt’s lunch and took any pennies he had in his pocket. Not that he ever ate the swill Mrs. Kaminski made, it was just that Milt’s crying and sniveling like a baby made picking on him fun.
Besides, the Kaminskis were deadbeats who never paid rent. Why his Uncle let them squat in that shack by the city dump was beyond him. As the bank’s future owner, it was only right he take Milt’s lunch. After all, stealing from Uncle Frank was the same as stealing from him, right?
Bud sneered at Milt lying on the bank floor, blood gushing out of his nose and staining the oak floorboards. As soon as the Crawford gang left, he’d make Milt clean it up, and then fire him. Give the Kaminskis twenty-four hours to vacate their shack.
Crawford, a short, spindly man in a cream pinstriped suit, stepped out of Uncle Frank’s office carrying a smoking BAR and a bag of money. He backed toward the front door, when he suddenly stopped and looked directly at Bud. The young man nearly wet his pants. Crawford pointed at Bud’s up-raised hands and asked, “Is that your money or the bank’s?”
Bud had forgotten he was holding that day’s rent collections, almost a hundred in small bills. He had been about to make a deposit when the robbers burst in.
“This?” said Bud. “It’s mine.”
“Liar,” yelled Milt from the floor. He climbed to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at his tormenter. “That’s Bud Tucker. He’s the bank president’s nephew. And now that Mr. Tucker is dead, Bud owns the bank.”
Milt’s outburst was so uncharacteristic and jarring it forced Bud to see him as a person for the first time; and what he saw made his skin turn to gooseflesh. Milton was the spitting image of Frank Tucker. They both had the same green eyes, brown hair, oval face and slight build. No wonder Uncle Frank let his whore live in the old shack for free and then gave his bastard son a job!
Dumbstruck by the realization, Bud didn’t see Crawford point the BAR at his chest.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Milt was horrified as he watched Bud gunned down. All those years he hadn’t fought back because his mother believed it was wrong to harm one’s kin. And now, when Bud’s life hung in the balance, he had let spite and greed goad him into betraying his only cousin.
It had been a week since the carnival came to town and he visited the fortuneteller. He’d been so happy when she told him he would inherit young. Every night since, he fantasized about what he’d do when he became rich. It hadn’t occurred to him that such musing was the same as wishing his father and cousin dead.
Milt stared at the blood on his hands and hoped Dicky Crawford would kill him, too; but when he looked up again, the gang was gone.
Richard M. O’Donnell’s works have appeared in Every Day Poets, Every Day Fiction, Sniplits, North Coast Review, Bear Grrr, Binaryorganic, Mind Fair, Kaleidoscope, Heartlands, Many Voices, The Gamut, Diskazine, The Alchemist, Telescope, Intro and The Plum Creek Review. His short story collection, Rice Wine, was published on Disk 1983, and he has received two Ohio Arts Council grants. His has a MFA from BGSU. He is the co-founder of The Oberlin Writers Group where he is working on his novel, Flowers and Arrows. His online publication links can be accessed at http://wormsview.com.
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14 Responses to “THE INHERITANCE • by Richard M. O’Donnell”
Comments
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November 1st, 2009 at 1:56 am
“She had put a gun in her month…”
The mind boggles (or it does if, like mine, the ideas of “woman” and “month” come together a certain way in it).
November 1st, 2009 at 6:23 am
Interesting story, but somehow the ending was disappointing. Shooting Bud so Milt would get the bank was fine, but the last paragraph didn’t cut it for me. A little rewriting at the end would make it a much better story.
November 1st, 2009 at 8:00 am
There’s the germ of a good story here – I really like the idea of the interlocking predictions playing out so differently, O Henry style. That said, it was hard to get interested in these characters. Bud was very much a cliched character with no depth to him; he was too-obviously a placeholder for a moral lesson. Once he sneered at Milt, his fate was predictable. Trouble is, walking moral lessons aren’t compelling people, and their stories suffer as a result.
Perhaps if this were a longer story with more room to develop some depth in Bud and Milt, and to build up the mystery of the fortune-teller’s predictions, it could realize its potential.
November 1st, 2009 at 8:01 am
Correct me if I’m wrong, but in the beginning it is Bud visiting the fortune teller, learning he’s going to be rich, then at the end it is Milt reflecting on the fortune teller’s prediction.
Maybe she just told both men the same thing, but that with the late POV switch and the exposition heavy narrative made me work too hard to figure out what was going on.
–John
November 1st, 2009 at 9:12 am
A little work to do, writing wise.
The changes in perspective could ‘flow better,’ and yes, you could highlight the fortune tellers ‘game’ more. But I think there’s more then a good idea here, it’s a good story.
I found it interesting and original. 5 stars from me.
November 1st, 2009 at 9:13 am
I’m at a loss for words.
November 1st, 2009 at 10:41 am
I also wish ther was more of an ending and we knew what happened to Milt. I enjoyed the beggining devlopment of the characters, but the ending just left me hanging. I’d love to see this story drawn out alightly.
November 1st, 2009 at 11:33 am
Typo corrected, thanks, P.M.!
November 1st, 2009 at 4:35 pm
This was off to a great start, but the end kind of left me up in the air.
November 1st, 2009 at 11:46 pm
One of the best opening sentences yet on EDF. It drew me right into the story and left me with no choice but to continue. The rest seemed to rush through and I was also confused at the end over who had visited the fortune teller – one or both of them? Overall, a bit of polish and this is a gem.
November 2nd, 2009 at 10:25 am
Really interesting story. The idea that everyone was somehow connected was pretty original.
The short format of the story, though, made all the perspective shifts feel too jumpy. First Bud, then Crawford, then Bud, Milt, etc. I would try to stay with one character if possible, or at least just have one perspective change (Bud and later to Milt).
Otherwise, really nice story.
November 16th, 2009 at 8:35 am
I enjoyed it. It didn’t bother me that Bud was a predictable villain. I especially like the gypsy predicting the same correct prediction for both men.
January 11th, 2010 at 6:36 am
i am troubed by the end of the story ,who visited fortuneteller.
bud or Milt.
January 11th, 2010 at 6:40 am
i am fogot to clam that i am a chiese youngth .i enjoy flash fich very much .spiciecal like read mestery