Sunny Corner - Cover

Sunny Corner

Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen

Chapter 10

After she caught up with her breath, Abbie said, “How much?”

“Two hundred seventy kilos ... in sacks.” Jim hemmed... “Give or take a few.”

“Few what?”

“Kilos ... couple of sacks were heavier ... but they all weighed close,” Jim said. But then he said, “No sacks were light.”

“For convenience, could we call it...” She figured in her head...”Two seventy four?”

Jim and I both nodded, “Sure.” “Why not.” “Yeah ... that’ll work.”

We grinned again, rather satisfied with each other.

Then I said, “Might be more.”

Abbie rounded on me, “Will you shut up!?”

She looked at the ceiling ... at the floor ... out the window ... at the ceiling again ... counted on her fingers and said, “Fourteen million, one hundred forty one thousand, one hundred forty dollars.” She looked stunned for a bit ... sat down with a thud ... got back up ... looked at us both.

“Okay ... who did you kill?”

“Nobody.”

There was a long drawn out pause ... with a lot of heavy breathing and looking anywhere but at her ... and I said, “But we did lie to a government official.”

And Jim said, “Not exactly.”

“How not exactly?”

“Well ... they never asked,” Jim looked at me and I nodded.

“Yeah ... never,” I said.

“But you never said,” not a question.

“Right.”

“It was something we didn’t want to explain,” Said Jim.

“What was?”

“What?”

“What didn’t you want to explain?” Abbie asked.

“Where we got the gold,” said Jim.

Abbie looked exasperated, “You’re prospectors, fer christ sake ... where else would you get the gold?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“No ... can’t,” Agreed Jim ... shaking his head.

“But you have the gold?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see it?”

We trooped over to Jim’s.

There, we showed her the sacks.

“Show me,” Abbie said.

I pointed.

“Idiot!” she said. “The gold!”

So Jim picked up a representative sack, put it in one of his black bins, untied it and gestured.

Abbie looked.

“Holy Shit!”

We both nodded.

She snapped her fingers at me. I gave her a look.

“Your phone.”

“Use yours.”

“You gave her a phone?” Jim asked. “Why don’t you just...”

“Shut up, Jim!”

“What?” said Abbie.

“Never mind,” I said.

“What?”

“He gets weird ideas.”

She looked at Jim.

While her back was turned, I shook my head frantically.

“My service sucks,” she said.

“You gave her a phone with shitty service?” Jim asked. “You didn’t get her Telstra?”

I handed her my phone.

She punched in a number.

“Most revered grandfather,” She started to say.

“Grandfather?” I spluttered. “You said...”

She drew a finger across her throat ... I squealed to a stop.

With her back to us she began to speak in a tongue I didn’t know. This went on for a couple of minutes. She turned to Jim.

“What did you use to weigh the bags”

“Bathroom scales.”

She relayed that to the questioner.

She listened.

“Weigh it again.”

Jim brought out his scales. Each bag was re-weighed.

“Two eighty including the bags,” Jim said.

A flurry of an unknown tongue ... she disconnected.

“You don’t have a Grandfather,” I said.

“I borrowed him,” She said, “Load up the gold ... chop chop.”

Ten minutes later, we were driving to Sydney.

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