Poor man Steven is finally able to replace his lawn and discovers a layer of cash hidden beneath the sod. He imagines a life of wealth and ease, but when others try to claim his money, Steven goes on the run. “I shouldn’t have joined the Homeowner’s Association,” Steven muttered as he sliced his patchy lawn into strips. Steven worked for hours. When he started rolling up the sod, he found something strange.
“What’s this layer of plastic doing here?” Steven exclaimed. Steven tugged on the corner of the sheet and fell on his butt in amazement. Stacks of dollar bills were hidden beneath the plastic. “Holy moley,” Steven whispered as he stared out across the expanse of his lawn. Steven started stuffing the money into a trash bag, but then a gust of wind sent the bills swirling into the air. Steven jumped to catch them.
Steven’s heart leaped into his throat. His neighbor, Billy, was leaning on the picket fence separating their yards. “Don’t tell anyone about this, Billy.” Steven hurriedly packed up the money. “I ain’t no gossip, Steve.” Billy raised his hands and pulled an innocent face. The next day, Steven drove to the police station to report the find so it could legally be declared his. Officer Wilson stood when he entered.
Steven shook his head. So much for Billy not gossiping! “I’ve got to fill out some paperwork before I can legally claim that money, right?” “Hold on there, Wilson. I hate to put a damper on Mr. Johnson’s good fortune, but that money doesn’t belong to him.” Steve turned. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth as he recognized one of the HOA board members he hated the most: Bryan.
“Nobody ever proved that, sir.” Wilson frowned. “Only because they were too scared to go against him when he was alive, and there wasn’t much point after he passed,” Bryan said. “But only he knew about the money in my safe. Next thing I knew, money was gone. Until now.”
“My home was owned by a gangster who stole your money and hid it beneath his lawn? How can you prove that?” Steven asked. Bryan arched his eyebrows. “The better question is: How are you going to prove it’s not my money?” Wilson pulled a face. “We’ll have to investigate, Mr. Johnson. You must bring that money in until the matter is concluded.” “Are you kidding me?” Steven slapped his palm down on the desk. “This man walks in here with a tall tale about gangsters and stolen money, and you’re just going to take his word on it?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson, but we’ve got to follow protocol,” Wilson said. “You’ve got until the end of the day to bring in that money.” Steven glared at Wilson and Bryan. This was ridiculous, but he didn’t want to get in trouble with the police. “Fine, I’ll bring the money in today,” Steven snarled. Steven climbed into his car. He swore and turned to grab one of the money bags from the backseat. He’d planned to use the cash to turn his dilapidated house into a home suitable for raising a family. He couldn’t let go of that dream so easily.