Stay At Home Dead by Jeffrey Allen

their heads. I don’t know yet.”
    His finger slid to a smaller square adjacent to the big one. “This is the weight room.” His finger slid again, this time to a rectangle colored in blue with a little boat drawn in it. “Outdoor pool here.” He grinned at me. “Kids can swim inside or outside.”
    “Sure.” I pointed to a big orange circle next to the outdoor pool. “What’s that?”
    “My office,” he said. “Thought it’d be cool to build it in a circle.”
    I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
    His finger moved back across the page to the opposite side of the main building, to a red and black bull’s-eye. “This here, though, is what’s gonna make Killer Kids different.”
    “What is it?”
    He folded his arms across his chest, the paunch beneath the T-shirt pushing out a little farther. “The weapons area.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Weapons, Ace,” he said, craning his neck at me. “We’re gonna teach them little buggers how to shoot.”
    I glanced at the bull’s-eye. “To shoot? Guns?”
    “Lotta folks own guns around here,” he said confidently. “Huntin’, protectin’ themselves, shootin’ squirrels, whatever. The way I figure, kids better learn how to use those guns and we can teach ’em.”
    I scanned the street.
    I checked the cars parked next to Odell’s.
    I looked behind me.
    I was absolutely certain someone was playing a joke on me, but I could find no evidence of cameras in the vicinity, looking to capture my reaction.
    I looked at Odell. He smiled back at me, arms still folded across his chest, fake pompadour standing tall.
    Odell Barnabas was completely serious.
    “You’re going to have a shooting range at a kids’ play facility?” I asked.
    “Not a play facility, Ace. I’m callin’ it a recreation complex.”
    “You think parents are going to be okay with this?”
    He nodded. “Sure. We’re providin’ a necessary service for the little buggers.” He grinned. “Don’t want anyone shootin’ an eye out.” The grin faded into a solemn expression. “I figure we’ll offer a week’s worth of shootin’ lessons to generate membership.” He tapped his skull with his index finger. “Can’t forget the business side of things, Ace.”
    I was trying to picture elementary school kids walking around with goggles, earplugs, and sweeping up their spent brass.
    “Don’t you think there might some insurance issues?” I asked, trying to be diplomatic. Explaining that guns and kids and Odell weren’t going to mix obviously wasn’t going to fly.
    He looked at me like I was crazy. “Insurance? Ace, my truck here’s covered and I rent my house. Not sure what insurance has to do with anything.”
    Oh. My.
    “I can get you in for as little as ten thousand,” Odell said, leaning against the wagon. “I’ve got several silent investors, fellas who just want me to turn their money into more money. Of course, you could buy in with more. Bigger buy in, bigger return.”
    I needed to change the direction of the conversation before Santa Claus drove by with the Easter Bunny.
    “How much did Benny buy in with?” I asked.
    He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and fiddled with the cigarette behind his ear. “Thirty. He was workin’ on another twenty.”
    “Thirty thousand?”
    “Yep. He was all in, Ace.” He shook his head, and his expression soured for the first time. “Not like his wife.”
    “Shayna didn’t like the idea?”
    He pulled the cigarette off his ear and rolled it around between his fingers. “Shayna. Things got kinda messed up with her, Ace.”
    “How’s that?”
    He shoved the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and fished out a lighter from his jeans. “Shayna liked me.” He eyed me with a half smile. “If you know what I mean.” He held the lighter up to the edge of the cigarette. “But she never liked the idea of the recreation complex, Ace. And when things ... hit the skids with her, she told Benny she didn’t want him to do it.”
    I