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Backyard Dungeon Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2021-12-10 16:53:18 +0000 UTCI sat in my truck and started to look up local pawn shops on my phone to try and find one with decent reviews. I was lost in my own thoughts, so when someone knocked on my window, I jumped and almost dropped my phone. Then I looked up to see a bleached blonde woman in her thirties standing outside of the truck with a wide, white toothed, pageant smile on her face.
The woman wore a pink halter top with a large, floral print, and she was the most tanned person I’d seen in my life. And not to be unkind, but all the tanning hadn’t done her any favors. Maybe an Ohio eight, which was about a six in any other place. She was proudly holding a plate of half burnt cookies up to the window and indicating with the other hand that she wanted me to roll the window down.
Since I didn’t want to be rude, I rolled down my window and tried to smile.
“Well, hi,” I said with a chuckle. “You about made me jump out of my skin there.”
“I’m sorry,” the bleach blonde said without much sincerity. “I saw you moving in yesterday and wanted to come say hi. I made you some ‘welcome to the neighborhood cookies.’”
“Oh,” I said as I eyed the deeply brown cookies. “That’s very kind of you. I’m Eddie Hill.”
“I’m Tanya Daniels,” the woman said in a perky voice. “Former Miss Elyria County and second runner up for Miss Ohio. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”
“No,” I said with an increasingly uncomfortable smile. “Sorry. But that is impressive.”
“Aren’t you sweet?” Tanya said with a practiced smile, but I could tell she was disappointed. “What brings you to Westherst, Eddie?”
“My grandpa left me his place when he passed,” I said, and I tried to think of a way to excuse myself so I could get on with my errands.
“Oh,” the former beauty queen said, and I saw the same look on her face that David Miller had yesterday.
Apparently, Grandpa had been universally unpopular in the neighborhood.
“Albert seemed like such a dear man,” Tanya continued, but she clearly didn’t mean it. “Well, I can see you’re busy. But if you ever get lonely in that trailer all by yourself, I’m just over there. You know, if you want to grab a beer or anything.”
The blonde pointed to the house at the beginning of the cul de sac on the right and batted her fake lashes at me.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Ms. Daniels,” I said politely since I wasn’t sure how else to respond.
“Oh, please,” the tanned woman said with a smile and a flip of her manicured hand. “Call me Tanya.”
“Well.” I plastered on a bright smile. “You have a good day now, Tanya.”
“You too, Eddie,” Tanya replied, and she stressed my name as she said it.
I rolled my window back up as she stepped away from the truck, and I started to pull away when I saw the bleach blonde wave. I waved back and then took a deep breath. Tanya seemed nice enough, but I had a feeling “grab a beer” meant more to her than it would to me, and I wasn’t looking for that kind of entanglement.
Not with her, at least.
I drove through the orderly neighborhoods and turned toward the center of Westherst, and I followed my GPS to a place called Buddy’s Pawn and Fine Jewelry on Canal St. When I pulled up to the place, I wondered what my chances were of getting a good deal. The shop had a painted plywood sign and several hand painted banners advertising deals and the sort of goods one might find inside.
I’d been to a few pawn shops in Cleveland, when a college buddy needed beer money or wanted to buy a guitar, but my experience was limited at best.
I would have to be on my toes.
As I entered the shop, an electric buzzer announced my presence, and a bored, heavy set gentleman looked up from the TV on the counter.
“Hey there,” the burly man said. “I’m Buddy. What can I do for you today?”
Buddy had a long ZZ Top beard and a camo hat, and the sleeves of his shirt had been cut into two long holes that revealed his beefy sides. The jovial man had the air of a good ol’ boy, but I wasn’t going to be blindsided by his charm.
I looked around at the shop before answering and saw the usual hodge podge of wares one would expect. Outdated technology, some instruments, a couple of bikes, and so forth. The long, glass counter was filled with jewelry and other things too expensive to just leave on a shelf, so I approached and fished the ring out of my pocket.
“I was thinking about selling this,” I said as I showed Buddy the gold ring with a ruby about the size of a large, flattened grape.
The big man’s eyes went a little wide as he looked it over, and then he looked me up and down.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Buddy said slowly, “how on earth did you come by this?”
“It was my Grandpa’s,” I half lied. “I found it in the old place he left me, figured it might be worth a little bit.”
“Could be,” the big man said as he stroked his beard. “Let’s have a look.”
Buddy pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and put it up to his eye as he carefully inspected the ring. I glanced around the shop while I waited for his verdict, and a moment later, he lowered the ring and put on his best poker face.
“I can offer you about a hundred for it,” the bearded man said, but I could see the glint in his eye.
“I don’t know,” I said as I put on a poker face of my own. “If that’s all it’s worth, I might as well keep it as something to remember my grandpa by.”
“I could maybe go as high as one fifty,” Buddy countered. “I can understand it has sentimental value to you. But for me it’s only worth the price of the gold, if it were melted down.”
“I understand,” I said as I picked up the ring, and I turned to walk away. “Thanks for taking a look at it though.”
“Hold up,” the big man said suddenly, and his voice betrayed his eagerness. “That is a pretty big rock there. What would you say to five hundred?”
Fuck. That was quite a jump in price.
“Five hundred?” I repeated in the neutral tone, and I turned around to look at Buddy. “I thought it was only worth a hundred. Maybe I should get a second opinion.”
“Alright, wait,” the bearded man said as his face went a bit pink. “A thousand.”
The wheels in my head started turning, and I looked at the big man. Clearly, this ring was worth quite a bit more than that, if a small town pawn shop owner was willing to go from a hundred dollars to one thousand in the span of two minutes.
It occurred to me my chances might be far better in Cleveland or online.
“I’m really sorry to have wasted your time, sir,” I said, and I genuinely was. “But I feel like I should maybe think about it a little longer.”
“Fine,” Buddy sighed as he put up his hands, but I could hear the disappointment in his tone. “But you’ll have a hard time finding a better price around here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You have a good day, sir.” I nodded as the door buzzed again, and then I stepped back to the summer air.
I had a sneaking suspicion I was sitting on a small fortune. The two pieces at home were even bigger, and if I could find the right buyer, I’d be doing better than I had my whole life.
I got back in my truck, let out all my nervousness with a long sigh, and then pulled up the GPS on my phone. I still needed to get some things for the house, so I looked up the closest store where I could get everything at once. Luckily, there was a big Krogers nearby, so I drove out of the pawn shop parking lot and headed in that direction, and my head was filled with thoughts about what I would do to fix up Grandpa’s old place once I was a rich man.
At the Krogers, which was just the midwest version of any big box store, I started down the aisles as I ticked things off my list. First, I swung by the beauty care section and got shampoo, conditioner, and body wash for Ibseth. I wasn’t sure what she would like, so I just got things I had known old girlfriends to buy. It was pretty shocking how much more woman’s soap was, but I threw it in the cart.
After that, I went over to the clothing department, which I’d been dreading. I had no clue about women’s sizes, and terrible memories of having to watch my mom shop for bras when I was a kid came flooding back. I ended up having to flag down an associate, because I was at a loss.
“How can I help you?” the sweet faced, middle age woman asked in her dainty midwestern accent.
“I’m trying to shop for my girlfriend,” I lied, “and I don’t have any idea what size she is.”
“Awww, hun,” the older woman cooed, like I was the world’s best boyfriend. “Can you give me an idea of her measurements?”
“Uhh,” I said as I tried to think. “I don’t know exact numbers, but she’s kinda on the shorter side. Slim, but curvy at the same time, if that makes any sense.”
I waved my hands in the air in an approximate outline of Ibseth’s body.
“Well,” the kind woman said with a smile. “Let’s just see what we can do.”
With the older woman’s help, I picked out some leggings and a few shirts, but bras were a bit harder. I ended up grabbing a couple of the largest sized sports bras, since the lady said they were a little more forgiving when it came to size, and then I headed for the check out.
As I stood in line, I looked over the covers of the trashy magazines. As a kid, the “scandal rags,” as my mom would call them, used to be my favorite part of going to the store. Back then, The National Enquirer had been my favorite, but now it was like the publications were all about which celebrity was sleeping with some other celebrity, or diet trends. But while I was standing there, I thought about how fascinated I’d been with Bat Boy when I was little.
Now that I’d met the Nictors, that idea seemed far less appealing.
Suddenly, I heard a gruff, masculine voice behind me.
“You’re that kid who just moved in, aren’t you?”
I turned and saw a man in his early forties, who had the look of someone who used to be fit but spent too much time behind a desk in recent years. The gentleman wore a boring, gray polo with the logo of something called “Stanton Security Solutions” embroidered on it. The beefy man had a shaved head and a mean looking face, but currently he was smiling.
Well, it was more of a smirk than a smile.
“Pardon?” I said politely.
“You just moved into Albert’s old place,” the bald man replied.
The gentleman was leaning on his cart in the checkout line behind me, and in his cart was a twelve pack of cheap beer, a big pack of steaks, bargain hotdogs, and some chips.
“Yeah,” I said, but I wasn’t sure who the gruff man was, or why he cared where I lived. “Albert was my grandpa. He left the place to me.
“That’s unfortunate,” the bald man said, and his smirk widened. “No offense. Hope you plan to clean up the yard.”
The beefy man laughed a douchy sort of laugh, and clearly he did mean offense.
“Yeah, it’s on my to-do list,” I said, and I extended my hand for a shake. “I’m Eddie Hill.”
“Brock Stanton,” the bald man replied as he roughly took my hand and shook it for a moment too long. “I live in the big house at the top of the cul de sac.”
Of course he did. I made a habit of being friendly with everyone, but I had a feeling that was going to be difficult with Brock Stanton.
“What do you do for a living, Eddie?” the bald man asked.
“I’ve worked mostly in construction,” I said as I internally wished for the line to move faster. “But I went to school to be a graphic artist.”
“So that fancy degree didn’t do you much good, huh?” Brock snorted.
“I graduated this past spring, actually,” I replied, and I was liking Stanton less by the moment.
“I didn’t bother with college myself,” Brock said unprompted, and then the beefy man indicated the logo on his shirt. “Started my own business. Maybe I could throw some freelance work your way. Been thinking about redesigning the old logo, give it an update.”
“Really?” I said, but I already knew there was no way I would work for this guy.
“Yeah, I-- oh, hey now, you got a girlfriend, Eddie?” Brock asked as he pointed to my cart.
What the fuck was with the twenty questions?
“Uhh, yeah,” I said as I looked down at the femine items mixed in with my groceries. “Kinda a new thing.”
“And she’s already got you doing her shopping?” Stanton snickered and made a whipping motion with his hand.
What an unbearable asshole.
Thankfully, the line finally moved, and I started to place items on the conveyor belt.
“I make the wife do all her own shopping,” the bald man prattled on. “But I guess that’s the benefit of being the provider. You gotta show women their place, or they start to get ideas. Know what I mean?”
I chose not to respond to that and stepped up to the cash register to pay and get the hell out of there. I spent a little more than I probably should have, but I figured Ibseth deserved a little luxury after all she’d been through. In a pinch, I could always hock the ring that was still in my pocket at Buddy’s Pawn Shop, but I had a feeling I’d be able to get a decent chunk if I took it up to Cleveland.
Once I paid, I turned to Brock.
“It was nice meeting you,” I politely lied.
“See you around, kid,” Staton said as he loaded his items on the conveyor belt. “Get that yard cleaned up.”
As I walked away, I heard Stanton say something to the cashier about the steaks being fifteen percent off, and I rolled my eyes. Leave it to a man who just bragged about having the biggest house in the neighborhood to buy discounted steaks.
I left the store and loaded my stuff in the back of the truck before returning the cart, and then I drove back home. I also took a moment to take care of another thing on “the list” and called to get wifi setup at my place, and the nice lady on the phone said they’d send someone the next day to get it installed. When I pulled up to my place, I saw Mrs. Whitmire puttering around in her yard, but I just waved to be friendly and took the groceries into the house in one load.
Inside, I found Ibseth still listening to the radio, but she was up moving around and dusting with one of my old t-shirts. The place definitely looked cleaner than when I’d left. It seemed like she’d used a broom to sweep the kitchen, and the matted shag carpet, and most of the dust that had covered every surface was gone.
“You didn’t have to clean up, Ibseth,” I said with a chuckle. “Not that I’m complaining, but you could have just relaxed.”
“I wanted to, Eddie,” the elven woman said with a sweet smile. “You have been so kind, and I want to thank you in any way I can.”
I had to admit it was nice coming home and having something checked off my to-do list for me. I could get used to that.
I could really get used to her.
“I got you some things,” I said as I set down the bags in the kitchen.
“Oh, Eddie!” Ibseth gasped as she rinsed the old shirt of dust in the sink and wrung it out. “You brought me gifts?”
After she’d neatly folded the damp shirt and laid it over the sink to dry, the blue-skinned woman knelt next to me as I removed items from the bag.
“This one is to wash your hair,” I explained as I pulled out the shampoo and conditioner, “and this one, I don’t know, makes it softer or something.”
Ibseth clapped and cooed with delight at each item, and when I handed her the leggings and tops I’d gotten for her, she held them to heart-shaped face.
“They are sooo soft,” she breathed.
“Yeah,” I said, pleased with how happy the elven woman was. “In my experience, women like soft things.”
“What animal are these made from?” the elven woman asked as she rubbed the clothes against her cheek. “Or are they made from mushroom fibers? No, mushrooms are never this soft.”
“I think they’re probably a cotton blend, which is a type of plant,” I said with a shrug. “Nothing special.”
“Eddie,” Ibseth said as she dropped her hands and laid the clothes in her lap, and she fixed me with a serious expression. “Why does a wealthy human like you not have any wives?”
“W-Wives?” I sputtered in surprise. “Like-- plural?”
“Yes,” the white-haired woman said with a solemn nod. “By your age, a prosperous man in The Gloom would have six wives at least.”
“Six?” I snorted like the idea was crazy, because it was, but then another thought occured to me. “Wait, how old do you think I am?”
“Two, maybe three hundred.” Ibseth shrugged.
“Years?” I gasped. “How old are you, Ibseth?”
“I’m one hundred and seventy,” Ibseth sighed sadly. “If it weren’t for Ursenger, I would be married and have children by now.”
I stared at the elven woman and wondered how they counted time in The Gloom. The beautiful woman only looked like she was nineteen or twenty to me.
“Well, I’m only twenty-one,” I said. “Years, that is.”
“Oh, Eddie, do not be silly,” Ibseth giggled. “That would be barely more than a child.”
“Maybe humans have longer years than your people do,” I said. “I’m not sure. But by my peoples’ count, I’m twenty-one.”
“How strange,” the elven woman murmured as she looked me up and down with her violet eyes, but then she got distracted by her soft clothes again.
Thankfully, she didn’t ask any more questions about wives or lack thereof, so I put away the groceries as Ibseth changed into her new clothes. I did have to explain what the sports bras were for, but she was able to manage the rest.
Once that was all done, I decided to finish up the backyard, but Ibseth seemed content to continue her efforts inside, so I showed her some of the cleaning supplies I had found plus the ancient vacuum cleaner my grandpa had.
When I stepped on the foot pedal to turn it on, the machine roared to life, which made Ibseth jump up on the couch to get away from it. This time, I couldn’t help but laugh. The elven priestess, in her little white shirt with a kitten on the front and pink leggings, put her hands on her hips and glowered down at me from her perch on the couch.
“What a horrible contraption,” she said in a scolding tone.
“I’m sorry,” I chuckled. “But your face-- it’s okay, the vacuum won’t harm you. It’s just loud because it’s old, but it gets up all the little things you can’t see, like dirt and crumbs. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to, though.”
“I will use it,” Ibseth said, and she puffed out her voluptuous chest as if it were a challenge. “But I still think it is a terrible device.”
“Duly noted.” I smiled and watched as the blue-skinned woman slipped off the couch and warily approached the vacuum like she feared it might bite her. When it didn’t, she wrapped her hand around the handle, and I figured she had things from here.
As I went out the back door, I heard the vacuum come on again, followed by the startled squeal of the blue-skinned woman, and I chuckled again. Then I headed for the shed to get out the weed wacker, but a small movement caught my eye.
A red ball flew over the fence, followed by an adorable string of curses from a tiny voice.
Then, along the fenceline where my property butted up against the Millers, a little girl in a bright blue sundress started to wiggle her way through a small hole in the fence that I hadn’t noticed before. Once the little girl had made her way through, she looked around for the ball, spotted me watching her, and froze.
“Well, hey there,” I said with a smile. “Did you lose something?”
The small girl just stared at me, so I walked over to the ball, picked it up, and walked over to hand it to her, and she shyly took it.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jenny,” the little girl said as she looked up at me.
The girl had big brown eyes and little curly, brunette pigtails. I was bad at guessing kids’ ages, since I was an only child and had no nieces or nephews, but she couldn’t have been more than six.
“I’m Eddie,” I introduced myself.
“Where did Old Bert go?” Jenny asked as she hugged her ball and swung back and forth.
“He passed away,” I replied simply.
“That means he died,” the dark-haired girl said as she regarded me seriously.
“Yes, it does,” I agreed. “He was my grandpa. This is my place now.”
“Are you sad?” Jenny asked bluntly as she continued to sway.
“I didn’t really know him that well,” I said with a shrug.
“I was sad when my papaw died,” the little girl said as she tossed her ball in the air and caught it. “I’m sad about Old Bert, too. He was funny.”
“Did you know him?” I asked and cocked my head at her curiously.
Everyone else in the neighborhood didn’t seem to think very highly of my grandpa, so it was strange little Jenny didn’t share that opinion.
“Not really,” the girl said as she played with her ball. “But he’d tell off Mrs. Witchmire if she yelled at us.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at Jenny’s nickname for Mrs. Whitmire, though I knew I probably shouldn’t encourage it.
“He’d say,” the girl continued, and then her voice deepened in what I assumed was an impression of my grandpa. “‘You leave those damn kids alone, you dried up old hag!’”
I tried to stop myself, but a burst of laughter came out of me, which made Jenny giggle, too.
“You probably shouldn’t repeat that,” I said as I got myself under control.
“Old Bert said a lot of bad words,” the dark-haired girl giggled.
I smiled, but what she said next knocked me for a loop.
“Did you open up the well to let the fairies out?”
“What?” I asked, and I blinked at the girl in shock. Did I mishear her?
“The well in your bushes,” Jenny said and gestured to the bush in question. “Did you open it to let the fairies out?”
“You didn’t go down there did you?” I asked, and my heart pounded as I thought about the Nictors and other monsters down there.
“No,” the girl said as she tossed her ball again. “It’s really dark down there. I’m scared of the dark.”
As I watched the tiny girl play with her ball, I realized the danger the entrance to the tunnels posed. As far as I knew, I had the only key to that big iron door, but I had no idea if that was the only way to the surface from The Gloom. There were countless side passages down there, and they could lead anywhere.
I also knew from the number of bikes in Miller’s yard that Jenny had siblings, and if something found its way up, they would be in danger, not to mention the possibility of the kids’ curiosity getting the better of them. I assumed the comment about the fairies was just Jenny using her imagination, but the thought of the sweet, small girl wandering around in those tunnels sent a chill through me.
I’d have to block or lock that entrance somehow to keep them safe.
“It’s not a fairy well, Jenny,” I said in a gentle but firm tone. “It’s an old mineshaft, and it’s dangerous. Maybe it’s best you don’t come into my yard anymore. But if your ball, or anything else, falls in my yard, just know on my door, and I’ll get it for you. Ok?”
“Okay,” Jenny said as she dropped her eyes, and her voice sounded disappointed.
“I’ll tell you what, though,” I said to soften the blow. “If Mrs. Witchmire yells at you again, I’ll get on her, just like Old Bert did.”
The little girl shyly looked up at me through her lashes and giggled.
“Deal,” she said.
Then she threw her ball back over to her side of the fence and wriggled back home through the hole.
I laughed to myself, but then I started to walk the perimeter of the fence and look for other holes. The old fence was actually in need of a lot of repairs, and I would probably be better off just replacing the whole thing, so I added that to the growing list of things to do. I also had to figure out a way of securing the entrance to the tunnels.
Maybe some kind of locking hatch or something?
I went back to the shed, got the weed wacker, and took care of the tall weeds and grass along the fence and the assorted junk in the yard that the mower had missed. As I went around the yard, I thought about where the best place to plant a garden would be, and I made plans in my head for a raised bed vegetable garden, and maybe some flower beds around the edges.
Once I was finished, I put the weed wacker away and went back in the house. As I stepped through the back door, the smell of cooking hit me, and I looked around to see Ibseth at the stove.
“That smells delicious,” I said, and with a smile, I went over to see what she was up to.
The elven woman was browning some of the potatoes and onions I’d bought in a frying pan, and several sausages sizzled happily in another.
“I thought you would be hungry after your work,” Ibseth said as she saw me watching her cook. “It is so strange to be able to cook without building a fire, or gathering wood. I just turn this knob, and there is a flame! It is so wonderful. In The Gloom, such activities can take more than an hour.”
The elven woman had a proud smile on her delicate face, and something about the domestic scene warmed my heart. The last person to cook for me had been my mom, and it was a nice sort of feeling.
I got out some plates, and we sat down in the living room to eat together. The food was good, if under seasoned, and I made a mental note to introduce the white haired woman to salt, herbs, and spices. Usually, I just put seasoning salt on everything, but I figured it would be a good opportunity for us both to expand our horizons.
“Thank you,” I said as I finished my plate and flashed her a smile. “This is just what I needed.”
“It is the least I could do for you, Eddie Hill.” Ibseth blushed cutely before she took the last bite of her sausage.
Once we were done eating, we moved to the couch, and the blue skinned woman smiled proudly again as she settled in next to me and watched me open the laptop. I figured I’d borrow the Miller’s connection one last time, since I’d have my own wifi tomorrow. I really needed to figure out how I was going to sell the gold and jewels, because I didn’t want to run out of money.
But that was going to require some research.
After some checking around, and looking up items that seemed similar to me, I realized the best prices were found on online auction sites, not like Ebay, but proper auction houses in places like Cleveland or New York. Problem was, places like that required papers proving the age of the items and where they came from, and I didn’t have anything like that.
From what I saw, I could be sitting on anything from thirty to sixty thousand, but that was still a guess. It seemed like there were countless factors that would affect the price, like the quality of the gold and gems. I could sell it faster on other sites, or at Buddy’s, but I couldn’t let my excitement lead me into a bad decision.
I still had money in the bank and some credit cards if I got into a pinch. Rent wasn’t an issue, but eventually property taxes would be. What I needed was a lawyer or something to advise me.
That’s when it hit me.
I knew a lawyer. Jay practiced family law, but even if he didn’t know what I should do, he’d be able to find out.
