Truth or Bones
written by: Richard Bishop
@rbbishopwriter
The smirk on Eddie Polanski’s freckled puss suggested that there was more to his challenge than he was letting on.
I smiled to let him know he didn’t scare me. “So let’s be clear on the terms of your dare.”
He nodded.
“You want me to break into old Doc. Finlayson’s house and bring back an item to prove I was there.”
“That’s right.”
“And for completing this epic task, you’ll give me your Raleigh five-speed bike.”
The smirk was back on Eddie’s lips. “Correcto Mundo. Assuming you don’t chicken out like I know you will.”
His compadres, Jack, Arnie, and Paulie, bobbed their heads like crows on a telephone wire. The other team member, Biff, was busy stepping on ants.
I threw him my best Cisco Kid grin. “Anything in particular you want me to grab?”
Eddie paused, pretending he was thinking, while slipping a bent cigarette out of his shirt pocket. He dragged a match along the butt of his jeans to light his smoke. After a long drag, he blew a warped smoke ring in my direction and smiled. I knew he was about to deliver the punchline. “I want you to bring back the skeleton.”
Doc. Finlayson had been the village doctor since my parents were kids. For forty years he’d stitched up every wound and wrote every prescription from the formal dining room of a Victorian mansion he’d converted into a medical clinic. In the back of the room, he had a fully articulated human skeleton dangling from an aluminum stand.
I first saw the skeleton at eight years old, after I fell off the swing and broke my wrist. Mom dragged me into the room and pried my fingers from her leg. It scared the bejeebus out of me. Doc laughed and told me it was the bones of his first wife Myrtle and she looked after all of his patients.
His soothing manner calmed me down, and I almost told him I didn’t fall off the swing. Eddie pushed me. Wearing a fresh cast, I said goodbye to Myrtle on my way out the door. In my boyish mind, she winked at me. It must’ve been the way the light bounced off her eye sockets.
Doc. Finlayson now rests beside his second wife, Alice, in the town cemetery and his house has been closed up for six months while his family battles over the estate.
Eddie took another long drag from his smoke and blew it in my direction. “Well, are you going to do it, dweeb, or are you going to wimp out?”
“Sure Eddie, but if you stiff me on the deal, I’ll send Myrtle after you.”
He laughed, but I saw a twinge of fear in the corner of his eye.
He removed the New York Yankees baseball cap from his head and slapped his thigh. “So, Martin, when are you planning to pull off the heist?”
“Soon, Eddie soon.”
He put his hand to his ear and cocked his head. “When?”
I kicked a pebble and gave him a goofy look. “Well, the Harvest Dance is two weeks away, and most of the adults will be there. That will be the best time. I figure about nine. The party will rock by then.”
“I’ll expect to see Myrtle after church on Sunday.”
As I walked home, I was sure of two things. Eddie and his crew were going to lay a trap, and he’d welch on the bet.
Although I’m almost fourteen, my parents made me go to bed at eight-thirty except on Saturday night when they let me stay up to watch Bonanza. My bedroom was at the back of the house and I’d soaped the window frame so it wouldn’t squeak when I lifted the window. Ever since I was twelve, I’d sneak out of my room to explore. The world is much different in the dark, all shadows and strange sounds. I was familiar with my neighborhood at night, knew all the prowling cats.
That night, I took the first step on the path to subterfuge. I snuck over to Doc’s house on the south side of town. It took a half hour to get there and back via the back alleys. When I arrived, I used my pocket knife to chip the putty from a basement window pane so I could reach inside and open the latch. I was home in bed, tucked under the covers, when my mom checked on me right after the late evening news.
My plan was simple, and I had plenty of time to carry it off. I’d sneak Myrtle out of the house and hide her under my bed. Then, on the night of the dance, while Eddie and his pals waited for me to show up, I’d steal his bike and leave Myrtle hanging in the garage. Eddie would have a lot of explaining to do, and as a bonus, I’d leave one of his precious baseball caps behind in Doc’s house.
He couldn’t accuse me of stealing his bike because all the guys would know I’d carried out my part of the bargain. If there was one thing the guys hated more than a wuss, it was a welcher, and Eddie wouldn’t risk losing his reputation as a stand-up guy.
My mom got a part-time job at Woolworths. This meant I had to stay home with my kid sister, Kim, on Thursday and Friday nights. Mom worked on Saturday and Dad went golfing with his buddies. This new situation limited my opportunities to Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights. No sweat. I only needed one night to carry off the caper.
On the first Saturday that Mom worked, Dad drove me to my Little League baseball game. Eddie was pitching for the other team. He didn’t have an arm, but his dad was drinking buddies with the coach. Eddie bragged he could blow his fastball past anyone. He couldn’t. I knocked his second pitch out of the infield for what should have been a stand-up double or maybe a triple. While rounding first base, I hit the bag funny and my ankle popped. Agony blazed up my leg and Eddie tagged me out while I lay on the ground, writhing in pain.
At the new clinic, they diagnosed a sprain, wrapped my foot in a tensor bandage, and told my dad to remove it in a week. When Mom got home, she insisted I stay in bed and booked me out of school for two days. The two school-free days weren’t so bad, but it left only three days to pull off the switch unless I wanted to take my chances with Eddie and his boys.
On Monday, while mom was busy on the phone with one of her girlfriends, I tested the ankle. It hurt, but I could walk up and down my room. But I was not sure if I could make it to Doc Finlayson’s house and back before my mom checked on me before she went to bed.
Mom went shopping at Safeway on Tuesday. After trying the ankle in the backyard, I had to stop several times because of the pain. I needed a crutch, but if I asked for one, I’d have to explain to my parents why I wanted it.
While waiting for Mom to return from shopping and for my ankle to stop throbbing, I glanced across the bedroom I used to share with my older brother Chad, at the pile of Chad’s old hockey gear. He’d been an all-star goalie in high school and Dad always hoped I’d follow in his steps. I hated hockey. But among the pads and the mask, I saw his goalie stick and the light bulb went on.
On hands and knees with my right ankle sticking up in the air, I crawled along the floor to the hockey stick and used it to pull myself to my feet. I fell the first time I tried using it as a crutch, but I got the hang of it. The blade of the stick cut into my armpit, so I wrapped it with a complete roll of hockey tape to form a crude pad. It was awkward, but it worked. When mom went to her bridge club on Wednesday afternoon, I tried my new crutch in the backyard and made it a hundred yards down the alley and back. Tonight was show time.
I waited in bed fully clothed under the covers until I heard the theme song of Dr. Kildare and knew the drama would keep their attention, although Dad claimed the only reason he watched it was to keep Mom company. After this program came the evening news with Walter Cronkite and they never missed that broadcast. I had two hours to pull off the heist. From my closet, I got out my large canvas Boy Scout backpack to carry Myrtle, slipped out the window, and limped my way down the alleys to Doc Finlayson’s house.
When I got there, I removed the loose pane and opened the basement window. It took a little maneuvering to get my feet through the window after dropping both the goalie stick and the backpack onto the floor below. I lowered myself and dropped the last couple of feet, taking the weight on my left ankle. I tumbled onto the concrete basement floor. After locating the makeshift crutch and my backpack in the dark, I felt my way across the utility room until I located a door. Then I took a chance and turned on my flashlight, closing my left eye so I wouldn’t ruin my night vision. At the far end of the room, I saw the stairs to the main floor.
Stairs were not something I’d thought about and by holding the banister in my left hand and fumbling the crutch with my right, I made it to the next floor. My ankle let me know how much fun it was having and I hoped the return trip would be easier.
I risked another shot of light and oriented myself to the examination room along a dark hallway. Once inside, a horrible thought occurred to me: what if a relative had already taken Myrtle? I’d never be able to explain this to Eddie and the boys. But I guess the relatives had no use for a skeleton, as she was waiting for me on her aluminum stand. For a minute, in the flashlight’s beam, I thought she grinned back at me as if she approved of the kidnapping. As I loaded the bones into my backpack, my one regret was that I hadn’t been able to get one of Eddie’s baseball hats to leave behind.
The stairs were uglier going down than up, but I reached the bottom with a sheen of sweat on my face and my ankle was on fire. Then I ran into another problem I hadn’t counted on. How was I going to get out the window? I didn’t have the energy to go up the stairs again and out the front door. The open window mocked me as I panicked.
I gambled no one was passing by and turned on my flashlight to look for something to use as a ladder to get out. In the corner was a small three-drawer dresser buried under some boxes. I limped over and pulled out the drawers full of linen. One by one, I removed the boxes slowly, being careful not to twist my ankle. The dresser was light enough for me to push it along the floor under the window. I was out of breath and my ankle was throbbing.
One step at a time, I got the backpack and the crutch onto the dresser and crawled up after them. I tossed the backpack out the window first, apologizing to Myrtle. After jamming the hockey stick in the sash, I pulled myself until I could grab the sides of the window and wiggle through. I lay on the grass, gritting my teeth from the pain catching my breath.
The journey home was a blur of pain and fear. The cats howled encouragement as I passed them. I crawled over to the window, tossed the hockey stick and backpack under my bed, and pulled the covers up over my clothes. Mom’s footsteps clicked down the hall. I closed my eyes and hoped she wouldn’t try to give me a goodnight kiss.
My bedroom door opened for what seemed like an hour before closing softly and two sets of footsteps wandered to my parents’ room. I’d done it.
As I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard the rattle of bones from underneath my bed. Maybe Myrtle was expecting a good night’s kiss.
For the next two days, I limped when no one was looking and pretended my ankle didn’t hurt as much as it did. Every time I passed Eddie in the school corridor, he’d hold up the number of fingers left until the mission. In four days, I’d wipe the smug smile off his face.
After Mom came home from work on Friday night, I heard her and Dad talking in the living room.
“Allen, I don’t think we should go to the dance. Bobby’s ankle hasn’t healed and I’m worried he won’t be able to look after Kim if something happens.”
Dad scratched his head. “Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a fire?”
“Nonsense, Mildred. The boy is fine. Let’s leave the decision until tomorrow.”
If they don’t go to the dance, I’m screwed.
***
On Saturday, I sucked up the pain whenever I was around my parents, and when Dad got the lawn mower out of the garage; I asked, “Need any help, Dad?”
He gave me the once-over and shook his head. “No thanks, Bobby. Go keep your sister busy.”
Great.
After an afternoon of playing Barbies with Kim, I was ready for the mission.
When Mom got home from work, she threw four frozen Swanson TV dinners into the oven and had a quiet talk with Dad while supper was cooking. Over dinner, Mom said, “Bobby, are you sure you can look after Kim?”
Ah, hell. I’d forgotten about my sister.
“Sure, mom.”
Maybe I can sneak out after they get home and hope Eddie and the boys have given up. If my parents go straight to bed, I can do this.
As my parents got ready, I made Jiffy Pop for Kim and me. On their way out the door, Mom handed me a note with the phone number of the community center.
I put Kim to bed at nine and checked on her an hour later. She was asleep clutching her Barbie Susie.
Back in my room, I pulled the backpack and hockey stick from under my bed, but it felt too light.
When I opened the bag, Myrtle was gone.
I poked around under the bed with the hockey stick in case the skeleton had fallen out. Nothing but dust bunnies and an old Green Lantern comic book.
If my parents had found Myrtle, there would’ve been hell to pay. Could she have dropped out of my backpack on the way home and I didn’t notice? If that were true, then someone would’ve found her and the discovery would’ve made the local paper.
I limped into the living room and searched for the weekly newspaper, The Falsmire Clarion. I expected it to be in the magazine rack beside Dad’s recliner, but it wasn’t, nor was it among the knitting around Mom’s chair.
Did they throw it out?
I sorted through the garbage can in the kitchen and under the tins from our frozen dinners, I found the crumpled copy of the paper. I smoothed it on the dining room table and read every page. There was no mention of anyone finding a skeleton, and most of the townsfolk would recognize Myrtle.
Maybe it fell into the bushes. Nah. I took the alley home and someone would’ve found it by now.
I tried to watch TV, but the only thing that was on was The Twilight Zone and that reminded me of Myrtle.
Dad must have found it and returned it, telling no one. That is the only explanation that makes sense. Why would he do that? Maybe he did not want the town to know his son was a thief.
I thought about how Dad would make me pay for my prank and the humiliation Eddie would heap upon me.
I am doomed.
Just after midnight, Mom and Dad arrived home laughing and waking me from a fitful sleep where I’d dozed off in Dad’s chair. At least someone had a good time tonight.
Dad handed me a two-dollar bill. “Thanks for babysitting, Champ.”
I took the bill and stammered, “You don’t have to pay me.”
“Sure I do. When a fella does a job for you, you pay him. Now go to bed.”
Mom called from the bedroom. “Are you coming, Allen?”
“Be there in a minute, Hon.”
I lay in bed trying to figure out what happened to Myrtle. Dad wasn’t acting like a man preparing an inquisition. I fell asleep before I found an answer.
I slept late in the morning and Kim poked me awake with her Barbie. “Me and Susie want breakfast.”
I yawned and stretched and led my sister into the kitchen and poured her and Susie a bowl of Sugar Pops.
When I returned to my bedroom to get dressed, I noticed two things: my ankle barely hurt and my window was open. I don’t remember opening my window. I must have forgotten to close it.
My parents’ bedroom door remained closed, and I hoped they’d sleep in so that we’d miss church. I didn’t want to face Eddie and his cronies and suffer the inevitable humiliation that would follow. But tomorrow was school, and I’d have to face them. I counted the money in my allowance jar, but didn’t have enough cash to buy a bus ticket to anywhere far enough away to matter.
***
I dawdled over breakfast, rolling around excuses why I couldn’t go to school today and none of them were good enough to fool Mom. On the walk to school, I kept my eyes firmly planted on the ground six inches in front of my penny loafers. In homeroom, one of Eddie’s crew looked at me and grinned.
Throughout the morning, moving from classroom to classroom, I saw no sign of Eddie, but his chief acolyte, Biff, gave me a friendly punch in the shoulder. No doubt my reckoning would come at lunch in front of the entire school.
As soon as the last period before lunch ended, I tore out of the classroom and ran to my locker. If I could get to the lunchroom before Eddie and his gang, I could secure a table at the back of the lunchroom, away from the crowds, to minimize my humiliation. Maybe they wouldn’t see me hunched in the back, as close to the corner as I could get.
Eddie’s compadres, Arnie, Jack, and Paulie, led by Biff, marched into the lunchroom as I prayed for invisibility. Their heads swiveled like a flight of hawks seeking a tasty mouse.
Biff spotted me and walked in my direction, the rest of the flock trailing in his wake.
Still no Eddie. How odd. Maybe they’ll drag me out of the lunchroom to face Eddie in the lot behind the school where we settle the serious disputes.
I glanced around for the lunchroom monitor, Miss Gumby, but she was chatting with Mr. Oswald, the new gym teacher. No help there.
The gang arrived at my table and spread out, trapping me against the back wall. I had no place to run. I wrapped my legs around the legs of my chair and locked my fingers on the seat. If they were going to haul me to my fate, they would have to take the chair too, and the commotion would alert Miss Gumby, I hope.
Then they did the unexpected. They pulled out chairs and sat at my table.
Biff leaned forward, grinning. “I don’t know how you did it, Bobby, but that was the greatest thing I ever saw.”
What the hell is he talking about?
I tried a stone face. “Yeah.”
The other guys at the table nodded their heads like puppets.
Arnie joined the conversation. “The way you got the skeleton to reach out of the bushes and grab Eddie’s shoulder was priceless. I mean, he must’ve jumped ten feet in the air and I swear he crapped his pants.”
I nodded, still not having a clue what they were talking about.
All the boys laughed, reliving the moment that I was not part of but they think I caused. I laughed along with them.
When the mirth died down, I asked, “Where’s Eddie?”
Jack replied, “No clue, man. After he ran out of there, no one has seen him.”
Paulie said, “He wasn’t at church and when I dropped by his house after dinner, his mom said he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t come out.”
The boys stood, still chuckling.
Biff said, “Once the word gets around, no one will mess with you.”
They left me sitting and pondering what had happened. My PB&J was as clueless as I was.
***
Eddie never returned to school, and later we heard he’d transferred to a private school in the city.
Three months later, I learned I was going to be a big brother again. No one was more excited than my sister, Kim.
Doc Finlayson’s nephew bought the house and re-opened the practice. Many of the old patients, including my family, flooded back to the new Doctor Finlayson, who proved to be as caring as his uncle.
I got strep throat in the winter and while visiting Doc Finlayson, I was glad to see Myrtle standing guard in her aluminum stand. Except now she was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap.
- Truth or Bones - January 19, 2025
- The Demonist - August 2, 2024
- The Lizard’s Lesson - April 24, 2024
