Mystery of the Masked Men

You would think that I would be used to loss by now.

I was five years old February seventeenth, the day that two masked men, armed with assault rifles, entered the Free Citizens First Credit Union on the corner of First and Crimson. They subdued the guards and zip tied the bank manager to the bronze leg of Wilford Citizens, the bank’s founder, statue in the center of the lobby.

The police were never meant to show up, but an off duty officer happened to be off for his grandmother’s 97th birthday and stopped to get cash for the flower vendor.

My mother covered my eyes when the first shots were fired.

Seven people were injured and two were killed. The masked men fled on foot with two hundred and seventeen thousand dollars and two cherry lollipops from the teller station.

“We’ll find those masked me, my boy. You’ll have justice to the two men who killed your mom and dad,” said Detective Barken as he dropped me off at my great aunt Pearl’s house.

Aunt Pearl was wonderful to me. She had never married or had kids, so it was always just the two of us. If I finished my homework on time she would take me to see Japanese films at the Obelisk Theater. Whenever I cried because I of the monster I believed lived in the cellar, she was always there to hug me.

Aunt Pearl saw that I was lonely sometimes. She bought me a very small puppy and we named him Circus Peanut.

Aunt Pearl fed me and clothed me and loved me unconditionally for twelve full years. On the day that I was to walk, cap in gown, toward graduation, and the same day I happened to turn eighteen years old, I came home to find my aunt Pearl had fallen down the cellar stairs.

I graduated alone and went to college to learn law. Detective Barken, who I kept in touch with regularly, would call from time to time with updates on finding the identities of the masked men. The updates were getting fewer and fewer, but with Circus Peanut by my side we soldiered on toward the justice we were promised.

“I’m sorry, son, the leads are just growing colder and colder. I’m afraid the younger boys feel there are bigger fish to fry. The truth of the matter is, once I retire, and I’ll tell you that day is coming, the case will officially be cold,” said Detective Barken over the phone.

“Thank you for the update, Sir,” I told him and hung up before he could respond again.

I graduated and went on to work on the legal team for the corporate offices of Free Citizens First Credit Union. I met someone and we fell madly in love. We moved in to my aunt Pearl’s home together and we lived a good life.

On a darkly clouded day with a particularly strong wind I came home from work, took my shoes off and set them by the front door, and made my way to the kitchen for a sandwich.

On the fridge were three pink post-it notes with blue ink writing that had not been there before I left for work.

The first read: “Detective Barken called. Said he’ll call back at 4:15pm with news.”

The second read: “Pick up C.P. at 5:30pm”

The third read: “I need my space. You’ll never see me again. I love you.”

I looked at the clock as the digital face read four-ten. The phone began to ring.

“Hello, Barken?”

“Mrs. Barken, dear,” said the liquid voice of Mrs. Barken.

“Yes, Mrs. Barken, your husband said he was going to call with news?”

“I am afraid you won’t be getting any more updates from my husband, young man, he passed away early this morning. You were always very close with him and I wanted to let you know that services will be held on February the seventeenth.”

“No,” I said and slammed down the phone.

“No,” I repeated to no one.

Slumped on the floor I watched, drained of energy, as the digital clock turned from four-thirteen to four-fourteen and finally to four-fifteen.

The phone began to ring.

“Hello, Barken? What’s the good news? Please, Sir, I need good news,” I practically begged into the phone.

“Hello, yes, uh, this is The Barking Lot. I’m afraid to tell you that during Circus Peanut’s routine dental visit there was, well, Sir, Mr. Peanut did not make it.”