Shark and Octopus Page 28

  “Did the First Clown use his hands to dig?”

  “No,” Bobby replied, getting down onto his knees. “But I’ll ad lib.”

  *

  For the next ten minutes no one spoke. Bobby cleared away the dirt a handful at a time.

  Eventually Bobby told Kit, “Hey, amigo, you get at one end and I’ll be at the other. We pick up the box slowly. Very slowly.”

  They pulled the mud-caked rectangular box from the ground. Bobby sat on the side of the now sizeable hole examining the box, which rested on his sweat-stained jeans.

  “The box is made of thick, solid wood,” he said. “I see wood screws at the corners to hold the box together. Looks like the box has been in the ground a long time, but it’s built well enough it’s holding together.”

  “Hans Baeder, by all accounts, was a fine carpenter.”

  “Griffin, there’s no latch to open it. I’ll use the edge of the shovel.”

  “Bobby?”

  “I know, Griffin. I know. You don’t have to tell me to be careful. I can see it in your face.”

  Bobby was careful. He slowly worked the edge of the shovel until the lid loosened enough for him to peel it away.

  Inside the box were pieces of thick canvas, grey but not muddy. The box had withstood the years, protecting its contents. The canvas pieces had not been thrown into the box like packing, but had been carefully arranged, like blankets around an infant.

  Bobby pushed the canvas to the side. His fingers shook with anticipation. Inside the canvas was another box, smaller, of deeply varnished wood. This box appeared worn, but not damaged, more like it had been sitting on an antique shop shelf than underground. Hans’ precautions had done their protective job.

  This second box had a latch, which Bobby, on his third try, opened.

  “And there it is,” he said. “The most valuable violin ever made.” He laughed, exhilarated. “It’s like being served the finest wine by your mistress, naked.”

  “But why, Griffin? Why bury the del Gesu?” Annie insisted, with surprising passion. “Why would Hans Baeder bury this? Of all people, he knew what the del Gesu was worth. Not what it was worth in money. I know he didn’t care about that. But what about the music?”

  Griffin had considered the question and had his answer ready. “Hans was ashamed of his role in the Special Task Force For Music. You remember Miriam Freitag telling us that. He never forgave himself for stealing the violins. So he buried the del Gesu. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy it, so he buried it. Then he left directions on where to find it in the notes on his bedroom wall. We were the ones to follow the directions.

  “Kit? Can you to take that to Grace today?” Griffin asked. “She’ll have experts evaluate it, but that has to be the 1742 Guarneri del Gesu.”

  *

  Later, Griffin and Annie were alone on the steps of Hans Baeder’s house.

  Bobby had left for his gig, after bestowing on Griffin a “Well played, amigo.” Kit was in his latest lease, a silver Jag, DC-bound, to deliver the del Gesu to Grace. Griffin hoped Kit was not driving too insanely. Saif was off to his last day of prep for his doctoral defense.

  “So,” Annie began.

  “So,” Griffin agreed.

  “So, what are your plans for this fine holiday?”

  “I thought at some point we should visit Woodlawn Cemetery. Pay our respects to Mr. Hans Baeder, who died one year ago today.”

  “And?” Annie asked, getting up from the steps.

  Griffin got up from the steps also. “Kit won’t be back from delivering the del Gesu to Grace for another couple hours.”

  Annie began walking in the direction of her Mini Cooper. “And Bobby is busy with a gig for the next few hours.”

  Griffin headed toward his Malibu. “And Saif has to study.”

  Annie broke into a jog. “Whatever will we do with ourselves for the next hour or two?”

  “Shower grouting?” Griffin suggested, starting to run.

  “Bookcase building?” Annie offered, moving faster.

  “We can think of something, I’m sure,” Griffin said.

  And they raced each other to their cars and home.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JC Sullivan is a Baltimore writer. He has written for the Chicago Tribune, Christian Science Monitor and the Wall Street Journal. His first article in the Journal led to an appearance on C Span, testifying before a Congressional committee. His short stories have appeared in literary journals in Massachusetts, Florida, New York and Bangalore, India. Shark and Octopus is his first novel.

  JC got the idea for Shark and Octopus years ago watching a trailer for the movie “Ocean’s Eleven.” Remember the Brad Pitt-George Clooney series of movies set in Las Vegas, where a gang gets together to plan and pull off a complicated heist? JC got to thinking about writing a heist novel -- but instead of the glitz of Las Vegas, how about his very unpolished hometown of Baltimore? And what if the gang has to manage the heist without anyone learning the prize was ever missing? Shark and Octopus is that novel. It’s a comic caper, a mystery, and a thriller as well.

  JC Sullivan has lived in Baltimore all his life and has no plans to move. He survived growing up the youngest of four boys in a rowhouse. The techno-thriller author Tom Clancy lived a couple streets over. JC’s father was an FBI agent who did some counter-intelligence work, chasing Soviet spies during the Cold War. As a result, no one in the Sullivan family was allowed by the American government behind the Iron Curtain. The Berlin Wall came down without JC’s help.

  He attended a private high school but spent most of his time there on the basketball court. When his knees gave out JC decided he’d better become a more serious student. About that time he started writing fiction.

  He has been a lawyer for more than three decades, working mostly on behalf of construction companies. He has taught English as a second language and tutored the SAT (Verbal section only, math was never his strong point). He has two daughters Kira and Meredith, both Quaker-educated. Freeze Tag, the prequel to Shark and Octopus, is nearly completed. You can follow his blog https://wordpress.com/view/jcharlessullivan.wordpress.com.