The Inheritance

By Rachel Dib

When I spotted Sarah Becker enjoying a meal at Luigi’s outdoor café, I ignored my better judgment and approached her. When she saw me coming, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Detective Jordan. If you remember, my charges over the Grode Tech heist were dismissed.”

I set down a yellowed photograph featuring a man wearing a suit and yarmulke beside a woman in a simple dress—a woman with a face identical to Becker’s. “Different investigation.”

“Personal inquiry?”

Ignoring the question, I pulled out a chair. “I’ll cover the bill and give you transportation in exchange for information.”

“What about my car?”

“We both know you don’t own one.”

Smirking, she slid the photograph closer. Longing entered her gaze as she traced the young man’s jawline. “Where’d you get this?”

When I didn’t answer, she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“When was this taken?”

“The basics. Got it.” She laced her manicured fingers together. “It’s our wedding photo, June 1939.”

“Then you’re admitting this is you?”

“I don’t have patience for stupid questions.” Becker pushed away her salad and signaled for the check. “Ask better ones. Otherwise, I’m out.”

I clenched my teeth. I need these answers. Don’t blow it. Swallowing my pride, I continued. “You weren’t Benjamin Becker’s original intended.”

“So that’s what this is about.” She leaned forward. “I suppose you’ll ask about Miriam Alski next.”

“Didn’t get along?”

“I stole her fiancé. What do you think?”

I snorted. “That there’s a difference between disliking someone and sentencing them to death.”

A smile teased her lips. “I suppose you think I’m a monster.”

Before I could answer, the waitress arrived. Standing, I handed her a crinkled twenty.

“You judge without knowing the whole story,” Becker said haughtily as we walked to the parking lot. “I was justified.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Once Nazi occupation began, a whisper in the right ear earned someone a one-way ticket to a hell camp.” Becker lifted her chin. “My actions were retribution for Miriam’s loose tongue.”

I frowned. “Miriam informed on you to the Nazis first?”

“I’d like to say yes, but no.” Becker sighed. “She gossiped to smear my name. She never anticipated anyone would be seized.”

Benjamin, I added to myself when she fell silent.

Once inside my car, Becker handed me a scrap of paper with a scribbled address. As I drove, she continued. “I was lucky—if you can call it luck. The visit came while I was out. A friend warned me of Ben’s arrest. She’d known I was…” Hesitating, she abruptly switched topics. “An underground network smuggling Jews out of Poland helped transport me to England.”

“But not before you also whispered in the correct ears.” Though I kept my eyes on the road, I felt Becker’s gaze challenging me to condemn her. I kept my features neutral.

Eventually, she shrugged and motioned to a mark marring her wrist: a maroon X within a faint circle. “This appeared the day of Miriam’s arrest. Over the years, I researched my genealogy along with local legends. Ever heard of the Wandering Jew?”

“The man sentenced to wander the earth after mocking Jesus on the cross?”

“Yep.”

“A myth.”

“And one with a caveat—I often found myself in trouble. First because of the war, and afterward, due to… my chosen endeavors.”

“Wait,” I sneered. “Are you claiming you traced your lineage back to the man who cursed Jesus?”

“Of course not.” She scowled. “I merely traced my ancestry as well as the origins of certain stories geographically. Everything pointed to the myth. My inability to stay anywhere. Remaining nineteen. The Wandering Jew’s curse was the only logical explanation.”

“Then what happened to the person you replaced?”

“Died, I guess.” Becker waved dismissively. “I only found texts indicating how a person inherited the curse.”

“Like by sentencing someone to death.”

“Exactly. Think unforgivable sin.”

I sucked my teeth. “Right.”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Seems a far-fetched conclusion.”

“Okay.” She clicked her tongue. “Take the Grode Tech case. You probably thought you had me.”

“We did.” I narrowed my eyes. “How’d you erase our evidence?”

Becker smiled. “I didn’t. The curse did. Can’t continue wandering if I’m incarcerated.” She pointed to a driveway leading into the woods. “That’s the turn.”

We pulled alongside a cabin beside a lake. The type of place one could fish, swim, or read while lounging on a porch chair.

As she reached for the door, I cleared my throat. “You were pregnant.”

She froze.

“The friend who saved you knew. Tell me about the baby.”

Her jaw clenched as she pushed open the door. “I didn’t keep her.”

As Becker strode away, I tapped my steering wheel, gut reeling. Nothing can stop her. No matter what she does, she’ll always escape justice. I turned off the car. I can’t let her do that.

When Becker reappeared, she’d changed clothes and shaved the sides of her head, pulling her remaining hair into a top knot.

“Detective.” She slung a backpack over one shoulder and pushed past me. Rounding the side of the cabin, Becker halted beside a bulk hidden beneath a tarp. With a tug, she revealed a CRV.

“Someone died during the Grode Tech heist. Does that bother you?”

“Not really.” She tossed her backpack in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not the first time. If someone’s stupid enough to get in the way, that’s their fault. Now if that’s all…”

Seeing my gun targeting her, she trailed off. “This is a first, but—”

I pulled the trigger. Ears ringing from the shot, I watched Becker fall. She gazed at me, gasping as blood pooled from her chest.

“If you were wondering, your daughter was adopted and renamed Mira Jordan. She lived a great life. An honest life. As did her daughter—my Mother.”

Becker’s brow furrowed, then she stilled.

I smiled bitterly when a burning sensation signaled a brand appearing on my wrist. “And despite this curse, I will too.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Dib is a stay-at-home mom of three small children. After marrying a soldier, she left her home state of South Carolina to live in random places across the United States. Her short fiction appears in anthologies published by Havok Publishing, Ye Olde Dragon Books, Iron Faerie Publishing, Brigids Gate Press, and The Last Line literary journal. She also was awarded Havok’s “Most Prolific Author” for 2022 and 2023.

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