Holding Duchess off with one hand, Emmett picked up the receiver with the other, only to find it silent—the service having yet to be restored for the season.
When Duchess realized the phone was dead, he relaxed his posture.
—Let’s talk this through for a second.
—Come on, said Emmett, taking Duchess by the elbow. We’ll drive to the station.
Steering Duchess out of the office, Emmett walked him down the hallway, barely listening as Duchess tried to make some sort of case for delay.
—It’s terrible what’s happened, Emmett. I’m the first to say so. But it’s what Woolly chose for himself. For his own reasons. Reasons that we may never fully understand and that we have no real right to second-guess. What’s important now is for us to keep in mind what Woolly would’ve wanted.
When they reached the screen door in the muck room, Duchess turned around in order to face Emmett.
—You should have been there when your brother talked about the house he wants to build in California. I’ve never seen Woolly so excited. He could just picture the two of you living there together. If we go to the cops now, I’m telling you, within the hour this place is going to be crawling with people, and we’ll never get to finish what Woolly started.
With one hand, Emmett opened the screen door, with the other, he pushed Duchess down the steps.
After Duchess stumbled a few feet in the direction of the overturned dory, he suddenly spun around as if he’d had an idea.
—Hey! You see that boathouse? There’s a workbench inside it with a whole selection of chisels and files and drills. They were of no use to me. But I bet you could get that safe open in a matter of minutes. After we liberate Woolly’s trust, we can go find a telephone together. And once the ambulance is on its way, we can head for California, just like Woolly wanted.
—We are not going anywhere, Emmett said, his face growing flush. We are not going to San Francisco or Los Angeles or Tinseltown. My brother and I are going to California. You are going to Salina.
Duchess looked at Emmett in disbelief.
—Why on earth would I go to Salina, Emmett?
When Emmett didn’t reply, Duchess shook his head and pointed to the ground.
—I am staying right here until I get that safe open. And if you don’t want to stick around and help, that’s your business. It’s a free country. But I’m telling you, Emmett, as a friend: If you leave now, it’s a decision you’re going to regret. Because once you get to California, you’ll realize that a couple of grand isn’t going to get you very far. Then you’ll wish you had your share of the trust.
Stepping forward, Emmett took Duchess by the collar just as he had at the Whitneys’， only this time he used both hands, and he could feel the fabric tightening around Duchess’s throat as he rotated his fists.
—Don’t you get it? he said through his teeth. There is no trust. No inheritance. No money in the safe. It’s a fairy tale. A fairy tale Woolly cooked up so you would take him home.
As if in disgust, Emmett shoved Duchess back.
Tripping over the stones that lined the pathway, Duchess fell on the grass.
—You’re going to the cops, said Emmett, if I have to drag you to the station.
—But, Emmett, there is money in the safe.
Spinning around, Emmett discovered his brother standing in the doorway of the muck room.
—Billy! What are you doing here?
Before Billy could answer, his expression transitioned from one of instruction to one of alarm, prompting Emmett to turn back around—at the very moment that Duchess’s arm went into motion.
The blow came hard enough to knock Emmett off his feet, but not hard enough to knock him unconscious. Feeling the coolness of blood on his brow, Emmett gathered his senses and rose onto all fours just in time to see Duchess push Billy into the house and slam the inner door.
Duchess
The day before, after Woolly acknowledged that the notion of a combination had most certainly definitely slipped his mind, he wondered if I wanted to take a walk down to the dock.
—You go right ahead, I said. I think I’ll take a moment to myself.
When Woolly went outside, I spent a few minutes in front of Great-grandpa’s safe, staring at it with my hands on my hips. Then with a shake of the head, I went to work. First, I tried putting my ear against the metal and turning the dials to hear the clicks of the tumblers like they do in the movies—which worked about as well as anything else you try doing that you’ve seen in the movies.
Retrieving the Othello case from my book bag, I took out my old man’s knife. My idea was to force the point of the blade into the seam between the door and the casing and wiggle it back and forth. But when I put my full weight behind the knife, what gave was the blade, snapping clean off at the hilt.