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Authors: Laurence MacNaughton
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greenbacks.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “You named your dog after money?”
“Sure. Watch this.” Ash shrugged his blanket aside and stood up. The wad of hundred-dollar bills in his pocket was still damp, but he had no doubt the dog could sniff them out. “Moolah!” He patted his hand on his leg.
The dog, dozing in front of the wood stove, perked his head up, then came trotting over.
Ash rubbed his head. “Good boy. Moolah, show me the money!”
The dog sniffed around the room, his nose working furiously. He put his forepaws up on the arm of the couch and nosed Cleo’s limp jacket. He let out a clipped bark.
Ash grinned. “Got any cash in that pocket?”
She reached into her damp jacket and pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill. She held it up.
He called Moolah over and fed him a treat. “Good boy!” He gave the dog a brisk rub. “Works every time. This mutt’s a genius.”
She looked skeptical. “I imagine he might know to look in jacket pockets.”
“Sure. But this pooch can sniff out cash anywhere. He’s found it in nightclubs, back seats of cars, so many places, I don’t even know. The day I taught him that trick, he found a fifty in a gutter outside a Laundromat. I spent it on a bone-in rib eye and split it with him.”
She shook her head. “Only you, Ash. Seriously.”
“Weird, though.” He pulled the wad of hundreds out of his pocket. “I reckoned he’d home in on this first.” He held the money down in front of Moolah’s nose, but the dog turned away. Not interested.
Mauricio’s words popped into his head. There’s something wrong with the money .
“So tell me about your curse,” Cleo said, interrupting his thoughts. She stared off into the shadows across the room, where her dad’s bird-watching books were stacked up next to a glass case of hawk feathers. “You said the curse was on you. What did you mean by that?”
Ash pocketed the cash and sank back into his seat, feeling a dark mood settling on him. “Not a lot to say. I found this gold spider statue when I was a kid.”
“The one that you said Andres was after.”
“Turns out that way, yeah. It was a gold spider statue with emerald eyes. And I swear to you, that thing’s eyes lit up like they were on fire. It was evil. ” Ash hated the way his voice trembled when he said it, but he pushed on. “It was cursed. And I knew right then that I’d woken it up, and I’d pay for that. And I have. Ever since that night, when people get too close to me, they tend to die.”
She stared at him, not saying a word. He couldn’t tell if she believed him or not.
“Makes long-term relationships a little dicey,” he added.
“This same gold spider Andres is looking for? You found it when?”
“Fifth grade.” Ash debated how much to tell her at once. “There’s a lot more to that story, but the short and sweet is that my parents sort of got rid of it. Then after that, things were calm for a while, aside from the usual teen angst and all that high school nonsense.”
“It wasn’t all nonsense.”
In his mind’s eye, he had a glimpse of her on prom night, beautiful, looking up at him with such earnest intensity, one gloved hand on his arm. He pushed that thought aside, with all its attached bittersweet angst. There was too much pain attached to it. Because that was the night of the fire.
He hadn’t seen his home burn, he’d only seen the aftermath. The smoking ruins. The funeral for his parents, and then another one for Cleo’s dad. Being the sheriff and the first one at the scene of the fire, he’d run inside to try to save them.
But he never made it back out.
“I know I’m cursed. I can’t prove it, but I know it.” He drank the remains of his cold coffee, wishing he had something a little stronger. “So if I’m a bit of a wanderer these days, it’s not because I don’t care, let’s just put it that way. Mostly I don’t want anybody else dying in my proximity.”
“What about Mauricio? By that
She lifted one eyebrow. “You named your dog after money?”
“Sure. Watch this.” Ash shrugged his blanket aside and stood up. The wad of hundred-dollar bills in his pocket was still damp, but he had no doubt the dog could sniff them out. “Moolah!” He patted his hand on his leg.
The dog, dozing in front of the wood stove, perked his head up, then came trotting over.
Ash rubbed his head. “Good boy. Moolah, show me the money!”
The dog sniffed around the room, his nose working furiously. He put his forepaws up on the arm of the couch and nosed Cleo’s limp jacket. He let out a clipped bark.
Ash grinned. “Got any cash in that pocket?”
She reached into her damp jacket and pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill. She held it up.
He called Moolah over and fed him a treat. “Good boy!” He gave the dog a brisk rub. “Works every time. This mutt’s a genius.”
She looked skeptical. “I imagine he might know to look in jacket pockets.”
“Sure. But this pooch can sniff out cash anywhere. He’s found it in nightclubs, back seats of cars, so many places, I don’t even know. The day I taught him that trick, he found a fifty in a gutter outside a Laundromat. I spent it on a bone-in rib eye and split it with him.”
She shook her head. “Only you, Ash. Seriously.”
“Weird, though.” He pulled the wad of hundreds out of his pocket. “I reckoned he’d home in on this first.” He held the money down in front of Moolah’s nose, but the dog turned away. Not interested.
Mauricio’s words popped into his head. There’s something wrong with the money .
“So tell me about your curse,” Cleo said, interrupting his thoughts. She stared off into the shadows across the room, where her dad’s bird-watching books were stacked up next to a glass case of hawk feathers. “You said the curse was on you. What did you mean by that?”
Ash pocketed the cash and sank back into his seat, feeling a dark mood settling on him. “Not a lot to say. I found this gold spider statue when I was a kid.”
“The one that you said Andres was after.”
“Turns out that way, yeah. It was a gold spider statue with emerald eyes. And I swear to you, that thing’s eyes lit up like they were on fire. It was evil. ” Ash hated the way his voice trembled when he said it, but he pushed on. “It was cursed. And I knew right then that I’d woken it up, and I’d pay for that. And I have. Ever since that night, when people get too close to me, they tend to die.”
She stared at him, not saying a word. He couldn’t tell if she believed him or not.
“Makes long-term relationships a little dicey,” he added.
“This same gold spider Andres is looking for? You found it when?”
“Fifth grade.” Ash debated how much to tell her at once. “There’s a lot more to that story, but the short and sweet is that my parents sort of got rid of it. Then after that, things were calm for a while, aside from the usual teen angst and all that high school nonsense.”
“It wasn’t all nonsense.”
In his mind’s eye, he had a glimpse of her on prom night, beautiful, looking up at him with such earnest intensity, one gloved hand on his arm. He pushed that thought aside, with all its attached bittersweet angst. There was too much pain attached to it. Because that was the night of the fire.
He hadn’t seen his home burn, he’d only seen the aftermath. The smoking ruins. The funeral for his parents, and then another one for Cleo’s dad. Being the sheriff and the first one at the scene of the fire, he’d run inside to try to save them.
But he never made it back out.
“I know I’m cursed. I can’t prove it, but I know it.” He drank the remains of his cold coffee, wishing he had something a little stronger. “So if I’m a bit of a wanderer these days, it’s not because I don’t care, let’s just put it that way. Mostly I don’t want anybody else dying in my proximity.”
“What about Mauricio? By that
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