The Marks of Cain Read Free Page A

burden.
    That afternoon David drove deep into the desert, seeking the most remote location, as if he could lose his sadness in the wasteland. Under an ominously stormy sky, he scattered the ashes between the prickly pears and the crucifixion thorns. He stood for a minute and watched the ashes disperse, then walked to his car. As he returned to the city, the first fat raindrops smacked the windscreen; by the time he reached his motel a real desert storm had kicked up – jagged arcs of lightning volting between the black and evil clouds.
    His flight was looming. He began to pack. And then the motel phone trilled. His ex girlfriend maybe? She’d been calling on and off the last couple of days: trying to elevate David’s mood. Being a good friend.
    David reached for the phone and answered.
    ‘Uh-huh?’
    It wasn’t his ex. It was a breezy American accent.
    ‘David Martinez? Frank Antonescu…’
    ‘Uh…hello.’
    ‘I’m your grandfather’s lawyer! First of all, can I say – I’m so sorry to hear of your bereavement.’
    ‘Thank you. Uhm. Sorry. Uh…Granddad had a lawyer ?’
    The voice confirmed: Granddad had a lawyer. David shook his head in mild surprise. Through the motel room window he could see the desert rain pummelling the surface of the motel swimming pool.
    ‘OK…Go on. Please.’
    ‘Thank you. There’s something you oughta know. I’m handling your grandfather’s estate.’
    David laughed – out loud. His granddad had lived in a heavily mortgaged old bungalow; he drove a twenty-year-old Chevy, and he had no serious possessions. Estate? Yeah, right.
    But then David’s laughter congealed, and he felt a pang of apprehension. Was this the reason for his grandfather’s weird shame: was the old man bequeathing some insuperable debt ?
    ‘Mister Martinez. The estate comprises two million dollars, or thereabouts. In cash. In a Phoenix Bank savings account.’
    David swayed in the high wind of this revelation; he asked the lawyer to repeat the sum. The lawyer said it again, and now David experienced The Anger.
    All this time! All this time his grandfather had been loaded, minted, a fucking millionaire ? All the time, he, David, the orphaned grandson, had been struggling, fighting, working his way through university, just keeping his head above water – and all along the Beloved Grandfather had been sitting on two million dollars ?
    David asked the lawyer how long his grandfather had possessed this money.
    ‘Ever since he hired me. Twenty years minimum.’
    ‘So…why the hell did he live in that crappy little house? With that car? Don’t get it.’
    ‘Damn straight,’ said the lawyer. ‘Trust me, Mister Martinez, I would tell him to use it, spend it on himself, or give it you of course. Never would. At least he got a good rate of interest.’ A sad chuckle. ‘If you ever do find out where the money came from, please let me know. Always puzzled me.’
    ‘So what do I do now?’
    ‘Come by the office tomorrow. Sign a few documents. The money is yours.’
    ‘Just like that?’
    ‘Just like that.’ A pause. ‘However…Mister Martinez. You should know there is one codicil, one clause to the will.’
    ‘And that is?’
    ‘It says –’ The lawyer sighed. ‘Well…it’s a little eccentric.It says that first you have to utilize some of the cash to…do something. You have to go to the Basque Country. And find a man called José Garovillo in a town called Lesaka. I think that’s in Spain. The Basque Country, I mean.’ The lawyer hesitated. ‘So…I guess the best way to do it is this: when you reach Spain you just let me know and I’ll wire the cash into your account. After that it’s all yours.’
    ‘But why does he – did he – want me to find this guy?’
    ‘Search me. But that’s the stipulation.’
    David watched the rain through the window, as it turned to drizzle.
    ‘OK…I’ll drive by tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Good. See you at nine. And once again, my sympathies on your