Monarch of Mulligan's Bay

By David Mathias

A priest cannot disclose what is told to him in the confessional, even if he is later abandoned by his church and confined to a mental institution for the criminally insane. He can however, share a riddle with a young maintenance man who keeps him company on his lunch breaks by playing chess and solving his brainteasers. The priests final riddle is given to Donnie Fuller in 1966 on the night before the convicts' death.

In the 1930's, Chicago gangster's making a fortune in bootlegging made their way into northern Wisconsin to elude government agents. One mob boss, paranoid that the serial numbers on his cash were being traced, elects to covert his wealth into gold coins. Three of his men have the task of exchanging cash for gold at dozens of small banks throughout the Midwest. Bootlegging was in its final days and suspecting that their usefulness might be coming to an end, they decide to keep the last shipment of gold - 300 pounds worth.

One summer night in 1933, a chance encounter with the Chicago mobsters makes Ed Rayburn, the proprietor of a small gas station, the beneficiary of the mobsters gold. But the government passed a law prohibiting citizens from using gold as legal tender and the gas station owner believes the gangsters will be coming back to claim what was theirs. Suspecting that he will never be able to spend the Chicago mobs gold that he knows the g-men are looking for and fearing that the mob will come to kill him, he buries it. Paranoia and fear drive the man to disguise everything he owns by turning his quiet country gas station into a junkyard.

On his quest to solve his friends final riddle, Donnie buys the junkyard, which triggers the end of his marriage and the beginning of his curious but warm romance with his new neighbor Annie. The couple works diligently to solve the mystery of what happened that rainy night in 1933.

Many details develop but the fortune is elusive. Interpreting the limerick requires Donnie to be fortune hunter by day and a maintenance man by night through a journey that spans fourteen years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 8, 2008
• ISBN: 9781467056977

David Mathias

A Wisconsin native, David Mathias is a deeply spiritual and a die-hard romantic. His music and writings are recognized for their passion, beauty and sense of wonder. A Renaissance man, creative to the core, Mathias is an accomplished musician, writer, photographer, artist and engineer. He and his wife, Amber, are raising the last of their combined ten children. The couple is restoring their pioneer home built in 1834.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Donnie Fuller sat quietly in the gathering room of the Mendota State Hospital for the Criminally Insane in Madison, Wisconsin. Mendota State was an edifice of concrete, walls and fence. What windows there were, were tall and most of the glass was both frosted and reinforced with woven wire behind the barriers of bars. Mendota housed many of the sick and disturbed including the infamous Ed Gein, the Butcher of Plainfield upon whom the character of Norman Bates in Psycho was based. Donnie only saw him a few times over the years and at a safe distance. Donnie preferred the company of a convicted axe murderer named Richard Murdock.

It was a cool summer night in 1966. Mendota always seemed like a cold place even on the hottest of days. The tall narrow windows on the south elevation let in a modicum of light on a sunny day making the rooms tolerable. Today it had been overcast and the rooms stayed chilly and damp. Every cell, every hallway and every room had cold tile floors. In the winter the sounds of clanging radiators filled the empty hallways day and night, but at night they were often accompanied by the moans and cries of the inmates.

Donnie was playing chess with Richard at a small, square wooden table near a window that had one eight inch by ten inch section of clear glass, a replacement when no wire-reinforced glass was available – at least that’s what the maintenance man had said. It was enough to see the yard and the wind blow through the ivy that grew along the concrete and brick. Donnie was in his mid-twenties, a good-looking young man with blonde hair and blue eyes. Richard was in his late sixties with white hair and deep-sunken, almost vacant gray eyes. He had high cheekbones and a square jaw, the kind of man you could have mistaken for an actor past his prime. Richard chain-smoked filter-less cigarettes and occasionally Donnie would wipe his eyes and discretely push the round, plastic ashtray a little further away. Seldom would either man take his eyes from the pieces.

Five minutes left. Think you can do it? Donnie asked, tapping the fingers of his right hand against his temple.

Richard continued to stare. Shhhh. He set his cigarette in the ashtray and picked some tobacco from the tip of his tongue. He flicked it away never taking his eyes from the chessboard.

Donnie rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. Most of the other inmates sharing the room were either heavily medicated or sleeping, and so the room was quiet except for the humming of the fluorescent light suspended above, which Donnie made note of.

Did you figure it out? Richard asked, his eyes now darting from piece to piece vicariously testing the outcome of move upon move.

Your next move?

No. The riddle I gave you.

The letter ‘M.’

Excellent. Did it take you long?

No, this one was pretty easy. What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment but never in a thousand years?

Richard moved Kings Knight. He raised an eyebrow as he looked for a reaction from his opponent. If there was a hint of a smile, Donnie didn’t notice it. Mate? he asked, although he knew the answer. He always knew the answer.

Donnie looked at all the possible moves and although he was more used to losing than to winning with this opponent, it was his due diligence. That’s it, Donnie conceded. Donnie sighed deeply and then poured the chess pieces into a cigar box by folding the board slightly and letting them slide in. He looked up at the clock.

Socks, Richard stated plainly.

What?

My feet get awfully cold on these tile floors. Richard made a humorously sad face like a little puppy dog.

Donnie smiled, stood up and put his shirt on, the one with his name Don embroidered on the patch over his top-left pocket. Same time tomorrow? He asked.

Unless the Governor wants to have lunch, Richard replied, looking out the section of window.

Donnie gave a little smirk and tucked his shirt tail into his pants. He looked up at the guard. Ready.

Did I ever thank you for fixing this window?

Donnie looked back at Richard and winked.

One other thing. Donnie froze, head facing the door as he listened. There were five men going to church and it started to rain but only four of the men got wet. Donnie nodded his head.

Donnie enjoyed the routine that he and Richard had developed over the years. The game of chess and the nightly riddles were stimulating to Donnie, but they did more than just pass the time. They helped take his mind from his fears; the fear that he had too many dreams, the fear that he would always be in a mediocre job, and the fear that his lack of a formal education and marriage at an early age would be the formula for failure just as everyone had told him. Donnie craved more in life, and although no one had ever said it to him, he always believed that he was destined to make his mark in the world. He believed that there were more lands to discover, more treasures to uncover and more mysteries to reveal. He believed in believing though it seemed no one he knew encouraged this spirit in him. But Richard did. Richard was the one man that could always put a positive spin on things. Donnie looked forward to his breaks with Richard.

The guard buzzed the lock open and Donnie walked out alone. The guard leaned back in his chair, a hand-me-down from one of the directors.

He beat you again?

Donnie rolled his eyes. The black, heavyset guard took a cigarette from his pocket and lit up with his chrome Zippo lighter. He flicked the lighter shut with a snap and held it in his hand.

Man, that guy’s something isn’t he?

Very sharp, very sharp, Donnie said as he looked out at his opponent through the three foot by three foot reinforced glass window that separated them.

Hard to believe he put an axe in a man’s back. Don’t seem like the type, the guard said with a confused expression.

That was a long time ago – people change.

They do in this place, that’s for sure. They seem to get quieter over the years, must be the medication. That shit just accumulates in a guy’s body. Then the guard shifted his attention to Donnie. You still up on third floor?

No, they move the maintenance department every six months so no one can figure out where we keep the spare keys. I guess that makes us a moving target!

So, what floor you on now? The guard took a long draw from his cigarette and blew it out of the corner of his mouth.

Can’t tell you, Donnie said with a smile.

At first the guard thought he was serious, but in an instant knew that Donnie had him going. Shit man – get outa here, the guard chuckled.

Donnie took his worn leather tool pouch from the locker in the guard’s office and strapped it on around his waist. He pulled back the latch that released the second door that led out to the back hallway. See ya later, Bob. Hold down the fort.

Good night, Donnie.

In 1966 there weren’t many jobs available for a young man without a good education, but sometimes a strong back and a good alarm clock were all a young man needed. Donnie grabbed his paint-spattered wooden step ladder and continued to change the fluorescent light ballast he started before his break. He and Richard had known each other for the four and a half years that Donnie had worked at the asylum. His work wasn’t much of a challenge most nights. Occasionally he would help the more senior maintenance staff with changing out a boiler or repairing the radiators in the hospital offices. It was okay if the radiators in the rest of the buildings clanged and knocked, but not in the offices. The men knew their priorities. The largest part of Donnie’s job involved cleaning hair from the shower traps or mopping up after an inmate’s accident. At the end of his evening shift, Donnie would drive two miles to his small two-bedroom house on Union Street. Their little boy would already have been in bed for several hours and so all Donnie could do was look in on little Mickey and give him a kiss on the forehead. Mickey was four and curious. He meant everything to Donnie and he thought about his boy all day and every night. Donnie took off his shoes in the living room so that he wouldn’t wake his wife Jennie. He opened their bedroom door and in the dark, tripped over his wife’s shoes lying near the bed.

Damn it, Donnie.

Sorry, Baby, sorry. Donnie moved a carton of cigarettes over to her side of the chest of drawers, took off his wrist watch and placed it on a wooden tray in front of an old black and white picture of his parents. Except for snapshots, they were a couple he couldn’t remember.

How was work today?

Tips were lousy, now can I get some sleep?

Sorry, Baby, I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.

Jennie was a thin woman, two years younger than Donnie with dishwater blonde hair and brown eyes. Her side of the bed was littered with magazines and a large ashtray filled with the butts of her menthol cigarettes. Jennie rolled over to avoid Donnie’s breathing in her face. She pulled the blankets tighter so that he wouldn’t pull them away as he got into bed. In a minute Donnie was fast asleep.

At six in the morning Jennie’s electric alarm clock buzzed. She reached over and slammed her palm onto the button to shut it off. She lightly slapped Donnie’s arm with the back of her hand.

Donnie, Donnie, wake up. Donnie, you take the boy to Betty’s. I need some more sleep. Donnie?

Okay, okay, Jennie. I’m up.

Donnie got dressed and then dressed their son. Half asleep, he put little Mickey on the front seat of his two-tone beige and white ’56 Bel Air and drove him to Betty’s. Jennie’s sister Betty was two years older than Jennie; she graduated in the same class as Donnie. Throughout high school Betty tried to protect and warn Jennie about the dangers of unprotected sex but Jennie followed her sister’s example instead of her advice. Betty watched little Mickey from 7:00 a.m. until 3:30 so that Jennie could work as a waitress. Donnie worked a second part-time job fixing small engines at Rod’s repair shop on Williamson Street next to the book bindery. Rod was in his early thirties, a few extra pounds and hair combed over to cover his premature baldness. Donnie needed to be at Rod’s by 10:00 a.m. and most days could leave by 3:00, which gave him enough time to get to the hospital to report for the start of his shift. This morning Donnie drove directly over to Rod’s after dropping off the little one. He parked his car in back near the garbage cans and pile of aluminum and cast-iron engine blocks. The square concrete block shop was painted an aquamarine color and displayed a yellow sign with blue letters reading; Rod’s Small Engine Repair. It smelled of grease and gasoline with an occasional smell of rubber from the various replacement belts hanging from the ceiling in the front of the shop.

Morning, Rod, mind if I start early?

Rod grabbed a shop towel and quickly wiped the grease from his hands. Donnie – great, I’m up to my ears this morning. I gotta make a quick run to take the wife over to the hospital for her checkup. Baby’s due in another month. I was gonna lock up, but since you’re here early maybe you can hold down the fort until I get back.

No problem.

Listen, there’s a guy from Illinois called up wanting his outboard motor. He’s on his way back from up north.

The three-horse Evinrude I fixed?

Yeah, that’s the one.

Rod looked at the clock. Oh, shit, look at the time. I gotta run.

See ya later, Rod.

Donnie poured himself a cup of coffee from the dirty and tarnished silver percolator, put his sandwich in the refrigerator, and went to his bench. He turned on the ivory plastic radio that sat on a shelf above. It started with a low humming noise until the tubes warmed up and the volume knob was missing so Donnie adjusted the volume with a pair of pliers. Donnie went to work dismantling a carburetor when about an hour later He heard the bell ring and the door open. He looked over to see an older man with a head of wavy white hair standing in front of the counter with his hands in his pockets looking around. Donnie glanced over and saw a station wagon with Illinois plates out front. A boat and trailer were hitched on. Can I help you?

Good morning. I left an Evinrude outboard here a few weeks ago. Green.

Yep, got it right back here; just give me a minute. Donnie went in back and brought the outboard motor into the front of the shop on a dolly. I took the carburetor apart, soaked it to get rid of the varnish buildup, had to put in a couple of new gaskets, spark plug. It fired right up.

That’s great, what do I owe you?

Slip here says twenty-eight dollars.

The man took out his wallet and opened it. Damn, I’m a bit short on cash. Can you take a check?

Absolutely.

I’ll have to get it out of my car – be right back. The man went out to his car and Donnie could see that he was digging through his glove compartment. He opened the back door and rummaged through some more things. Donnie could see a frustrated look appear on the old man’s face. After a few minutes he came back inside. The man looked embarrassed as he wiped his hand through his wavy white hair. Well, it seems I left my checkbook somewhere. Darn it.

That’s okay. Listen; when you get back home you just send us a check in the mail.

You’d do that? You’d trust me?

Sure. You seem like an alright guy. Our address is right here on the slip. I’ll load it up for you.

Well, gosh, that’s great. You’re a lifesaver. What’s your name anyway?

Donnie. Donnie Fuller. Donnie tapped his embroidered name tag.

Well thanks, Donnie, I sure appreciate it.

No problem.

Donnie loaded the outboard motor into the man’s fishing boat and tied it down to the wooden bench so it wouldn’t rattle on the man’s drive back home. The man got into his car and Donnie tapped the top of the car. All set. The man smiled and waved to Donnie as he drove away.

The sunlight reflecting off of Rod’s shiny Buick pulling up to the shop caught Donnie’s attention. He grabbed his pliers and turned the radio down. Donnie heard the bell on the door ring as Rod came in.

I think it’s going to be a boy – sure can kick. Rod said proudly.

That Illinois man picked up his Evinrude.

Good. Rod said as he hung his jacket on the wall. He went over to a small mirror on the wall and pulled a comb from his back pocket. Bending down a bit he looked into the mirror and carefully combed his hair over. He checked the left and the right and then put the comb back into his pocket. He went to the till and opened it. Donnie continued to work on a lawnmower engine at his bench.

Where’s the money? Till’s kind of light.

Oh, the man didn’t have his checkbook with him – I told him to just mail it.

You what? Rod became agitated.

I told him to…

I heard you. What in the hell are you thinking, Donnie?

What do you mean?

For Christ’s sake, Donnie, we can kiss that money goodbye. Do you realize how hard I have to work to earn twenty-eight dollars? And on top of it I have to pay you!

Rod, he’ll send us a check.

Fat chance, Donnie. What the hell were you thinking? You ain’t the one with a baby on the way. Damn it, Donnie, of all the stupid things.

Sorry, Rod, if he doesn’t pay you I guess I’ll have to.

Damn right you will. Rod wiped his hand over his balding head and paced around the front of the shop mumbling under his breath. A few minutes later Rod came over to Donnie.

Pack up, Donnie

What?

Pack up Donnie – you’re fired.

Fired?

Yeah, afraid so, Donnie. I can’t have you working here if you’re going to lose me money. I’m here to make money not lose it. I’ll send you what you got coming.

Alright, Rod. Alright. Donnie felt badly and put his tools in his gray metal box and clasped it shut. In a few minutes, Donnie had his tools packed up and was walking toward the door. The mood was tense as he passed Rod. He looked directly at Rod and apologized, but Rod wouldn’t make eye contact or speak except to say, So long, Donnie.

A week later, Rod received a check from the Illinois man along with a ten-dollar cash tip for Donnie. Rod put the cash in his pocket and shrugged his shoulders.

That night at break time, Donnie came into the gathering room at the asylum for his nightly game of chess with Richard. He saw Richard reading a paper as he sat at the table with the chessboard all set. Donnie went over and slumped down into his chair.

What did the bartender say to the horse?

Donnie did not answer and Richard put down the newspaper.

Why the long face? Richard said with a slight smile.

Do I need to explain that one? Richard asked.

No, I get it. I’m just not in a good mood tonight.

After a minute Richard continued, And the riddle?

One man was dead…in a casket. Five men going into a church and it rains, only four get wet. Honestly, Richard, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that. The riddle did little to change Donnie’s mood.

Very good, Donnie. And do tell me, what is the problem? Richard asked as he motioned for Donnie to move first.

Donnie looked at the board and moved one of the cheap white plastic pawns. I lost my job today.

But you’re still here, Richard replied as he moved a knight.

No. My other job – at the repair shop.

It’s just a job, don’t sweat it.

I need every dime I can get. I don’t make much here and Jennie doesn’t make much in tips at her job. She makes me put away money into our savings and if I don’t, well, she can get pretty mean.

Does she know yet?

I’ll tell her tonight. God, she’ll be so upset. Donnie kicked off his shoes, reached down and took off a pair of thick woolen socks that he had put on over his usual white socks. Before I forget, here’s a little something for you. He nudged the socks over toward Richard while watching Bob, the guard. He knew there’d be no harm in giving a man a pair of socks, but sometimes you never know and besides, sneaking something to his friend was more fun. Richard discretely grabbed the socks one by one with his long toes and crossing one leg over the other, moved them up to where he could clandestinely take them with his hands and slip them onto his cold feet.

When one does not know what it is, then it is something; but when one knows what it is, then it is nothing. Donnie listened to Richard with an expressionless face.

I’m not sure I’m in the mood for your riddles tonight.

"Go on, Donnie