The Golem Part 10

"The house I'm living in was built by your direct relative. How come you don't live here?"

"Oh, our place is in town, with our people," Lowen replied.

His people? Seth thought the choice of words bizarre, but then he figured, "You mean a congregation-er, I should say a kahal?"

"Yes, Seth. You might say that everyone in Lowensport is a member of the kahal, our true a.s.sembly of worshipers."

"So you're a rabbi, too?"

"Indeed I am. And in fact nearly everyone living in Lowensport has a blood relative that links to Gavriel's original settlers."

"That's wonderful. Talk about close-knit." But then Seth could've slapped himself. "Forgive me! Please come inside for some coffee. I'd like you to meet my girlfriend." Immediately after the offer, though, Seth ground his teeth. G.o.d, I hope she's got her clothes on!

"Thanks so much, Seth, but it'll have to be another time." Lowen glanced at his watch. "We've got to get back to town, for-" He glanced urgently to his sullen wife. "What, dear?"

"Bible study," she said, nearly inaudibly.

"Yes, and then the community pie sale and then town council meeting to night."

"Busy schedule," Seth remarked.

"Always busy, Seth," Lowen said. "But one can never be too busy, can they, when serving G.o.d?"

Seth almost balked. "I suppose you're right."

Lowen gave Seth a business card; Seth did likewise. "Please give me a ring soon. I'd be thrilled to show you around our wonderful town personally."

"I'll do that, Asher. Thank you."

"And please bring Judy. We'd love to meet her as well."

Seth opened his mouth, then paused. "How did you know my girlfriend's name is Judy?"

"The paper, of course, but-oh, you've only been here a few days so I don't suppose you've had time to subscribe to any yet." His gaze went to Lydia. "Dear, get the paper for Seth."

"No, please, I don't want to take your newspaper. I'll get one in town."

"Nonsense. It's the Somner's Cove edition, which we don't read much, anyway." Asher laughed. "As for your names being in it, all I can say is welcome to Small Town America. It's not the big city by any means. The papers have little to write about locally, so with a little research into public records and such, I'm afraid we all lose some of our privacy-"

Great, Seth thought and pursed his lips.

"-but I'm sure it's something you're used to," Lowen added.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Please, Seth!" Lowen exclaimed amused. "You're so humble!"

Seth was confused, until Lowen's nearly silent wife handed him a copy of the Somerset County Herald. Seth could've quailed. I should've known...

A lower headline on the front page read: BESTSELLING GAME DESIGNER MOVES INTO HISTORIC LOWENSPORT MANSION.

I'll be d.a.m.ned, he thought but kept his air of cordiality. "I appreciate it, Asher. It looks like I'm in for some amusing reading."

"Yes, yes, enjoy it." Lowen hurried his wife back to the car. "And, again, welcome!"

Seth held up the basket. "Thanks again. We'll see you very soon."

After a parting smile, Lowen and his wife drove off.

d.a.m.n nice guy, Seth thought. Wife's a little odd, but... He took the basket, mail, and newspaper back to the house. Inside, he could hear the shower going upstairs. Can't wait to hear her b.i.t.c.h about this, he thought, skimming the article. Sure enough, both of their names were mentioned in the article, but most of it was about Seth's success as a game designer. Then there was a paragraph about the Lowen House, which cited the date of its completion as 1844. Several other short pieces on the bottom of the page were about the upcoming switchgra.s.s harvest and the completion of a large bioma.s.s gasifier nearby. Evidently the process and harvesting was seen as a much-needed boon to the region's otherwise faltering economy. Then Seth turned the paper over to view the top of the front page-and sighed.

CIVIL WARaERA STEAMBOAT UNEARTHED ON CELEBRITY'S LAND, read the headline.

III.

"Shouldn't be too hard if the workers stop at five like yesterday," D-Man estimated. He watched through binoculars at the work crew and equipment near the road. Looked like six or eight men, and some guy in a white shirt who must be the boss. Even half a mile away, he could hear the engine noise of the trenching machine and backhoe.

"Yeah, but what if we get seen?" Nutjob asked a question more insightful than was typical for him. He'd parked the black step van in a clearing within the woodline. "Cops, man, or say someone drivin' sees us and calls the cops."

D-Man shook his head. "Dog s.h.i.t for brains! We sell drugs to the cops! That's why the cops protect us! And we ain't gonna get seen anyway, 'cos you're gonna hide the van in the switchgra.s.s.

"Oh, yeah, well..." Nutjob went back to rolling a joint.

Redneck, D-Man dismissed. He focused the binoculars. "And speakin' of cops, Rosh called me today."

"Yeah? Next swap ain't for a couple days I thought."

"This is somethin' else. Says he might have another job for us soon."

Nutjob's face drooped. "s.h.i.t, man. Not another b.u.t.ton job like Pine Drive." Suddenly, even in his pot buzz, he looked fearful. "That thing scares the s.h.i.t outta me, man. I don't wanna do them jobs no more."

"Neither do I," D-Man agreed, and then he jabbed his finger hard into Nutjob's arm.

"Oww!"

"But we'll keep doin' 'em any time we're told 'cos it's all part of the gig, and I don't wanna work for seven bucks an hour moppin' floors. Do you?"

"No, but-"

"And anyhow, the way Rosh sounded was this wasn't another b.u.t.ton job, just a disposal."

Nutjob relaxed again. "Well, that's different. I can dig that." Nutjob paused for a long moment, then cracked a laugh. "Get it? Dig that?"

D-Man frowned. "Shut up, you pothead psycho." He brought the binoculars back to his eyes.

He'd already figured it out. All they'd need were some hand trucks. And there's only supposed to be four, so they'll all fit in the van just fine. By now, he could even see the top of the exposed steamboat in the cleared pit.

We'll just wait till it's dark, he reasoned, then haul the stuff out and split.

Nutjob's mush-brain sparked with yet another constructive thought. "Hey, what if the s.h.i.t ain't even on the boat?"

"Well, if it ain't then it ain't our problem."

"And what if they put a night watchman on it?"

"They didn't last night, and if they do..." D-Man shrugged. "We'll jack him out, kill him if we gotta."

"Yeah," Nutjob consented. He took another drag off the joint and coughed.

a.s.shole ought to stick to beer, D-Manthought, like me. That pot s.h.i.t's turnin' him into a moron-But the thought severed when D-Man noticed something else in the binoculars. He focused closer. "Only thing we gotta worry about is the owner."

"What owner?"

"Jesus Christ, don't you listen to anything anyone tells ya? Like the man told us, the owner might be able to file some sorta claim on what ever's in the boat."

"Who's the ow-Oh, the guy in the green truck." "Yeah," D-Man snapped. "His name's Seth Kohn, like the man said, and, s.h.i.t, Nutjob, did you only pretend to read the story in the paper?"

"The rich guy, right," Nutjob muttered.

"Yeah. He's the dude just moved into the Lowen House, with that chick we saw with the Rebel Yell t.i.ts. He's all we gotta worry about. If he gets to the s.h.i.t before we do, we're f.u.c.ked."

Miraculously, another insightful thought entered Nutjob's head. Perhaps the marijuana actually made him more intuitive. "But why would he want it? The dude's a millionaire. Why would he care about a bunch of clay?"

D-Man kept watching. "We both better hope he doesn't..."

IV.

"Give me a minute," she said frustratedly. "d.a.m.n! I can't decide what to wear." She stood nude before the mirror, holding up two different sundresses.

Seth sat on the bed, waiting. "We're not going to the Four Seasons, Judy. We're going to a hole in the ground." Seth could've gulped at the erotic sight. Even after a year of living with her, any time he saw her naked was as exciting as the first time. "But, by all means, take your time."

She grinned as if sensing his gaze on her. "Don't get any ideas, or we'll never get down there."

They'd decided to drive down to the excavation to see how it was progressing. Earlier, she'd read the articles in the paper, with a bit more amus.e.m.e.nt than Seth. "Yeah, in all the hubbub of unpacking I forgot all about it," she'd remarked.

"Me, too. And that is a pretty hard thing to forget: a steamboat buried on our land for over a century. I guess the main reason I forgot about it is I don't really care."

"Oh, come on. It's exciting." Now she was holding up two more sundresses in the mirror.

So is your body, he thought.

"But it was a trip that our names were in the articles." "My name's on the deed," Seth had said, "but I wonder how they got your name."

"Research is easy these days. The car's registered in both our names, and you already got the tags transferred. Anybody's name can be searched on just about every department of motor vehicles Web site in the country."

Seth smirked. "It just seems like an invasion of privacy."

"It is, I guess, but the article raves about you, and that'll increase sales of House of Flesh."

"I didn't think of that."

"All they said about me was I used to teach at FSU." She paused for a momentary fret. "I'm glad this reporter didn't run court dockets."

"Oh, yeah, your dope bust and my DUI." Seth laughed sardonically. "I'm sure Rabbi Lowen would've been really impressed with that."

"It was very hospitable of him to come out and bring that goodie basket."

"Yes, it was. I figure we'll go to Lowensport in the next couple of days and take him and his wife to dinner."

"Good idea. But what was he like?"

"Nice guy, seems very sincere. He was dressed weird, though. Looked kind of Quaker or Amish...except Quakers and Amish don't wear yarmulkes. His wife seemed odd, maybe. Barely said a word."

"Countrified folk. They still exist, you know."

She finally decided on what to wear: jean shorts and an FSU T-shirt.

"Aw, shucks, the nudie show's over, huh?"

"There'll be another one to night." She giggled, stepping into frilled pan ties and then the shorts. She pulled the T-shirt on.

"Uh, no bra today?" Seth asked.

"Come on, it's July."

"I'm not too keen about all those workmen ogling your b.o.o.bs. The mailman already got the show of the day."

"All right!" she humored him, then put a bra on. "Now let's go. I'm dying to see how far down they've dug."

They tramped downstairs. Judy grabbed her camera, while Seth hunted for his cell phone and keys, but at the same time, they stopped and glanced at the window. Outside, a deep roar rose.

"What's that?" Judy asked. "The garbage truck?"

"Sounds like it," Seth said but then his cell phone rang. Judy went to the window as Seth answered.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Mr. Kohn? This is Hovis from the state department of agriculture-"

"Oh, wow. We were actually just about to drive down to the excavation-"

Judy interrupted with an astonished look. "Seth, there's a giant-a.s.s truck parking in the front yard!"

"Don't bother, Mr. Kohn," Hovis said over the line. "We just pulled up. Come on outside."

Seth hung up. What the h.e.l.l?

He followed Judy out to the porch, where they both stood in a mild shock. A large truck, indeed, a flatbed, chugged to a stop in the yard, followed by several pickups full of workmen. Hovis's state vehicle pulled in last.