Calamity Jayne Rides Again (25 page)

CHAPTER 21

Sheesh. I needed the State Patrol on speed dial. After I'd alerted the troopers to the latest break-in and theft, I woke Uncle
Frank with my next phone call. It wasn't a long conversation. As a matter of fact, I'd barely hung up and he was on the doorstep.
He must've really had his little white golf cart flying. Good thing no troopers were running radar at that hour. Is there
a speed limit for golf carts?

I explained to Uncle Frank what had happened, and finally decided to come clean with him before the cops got there—though
I had to two-step around the truth for Frankie's sake. Admitting to the authorities that he'd been at the scene of yet another
hit on his father's business would point the finger of guilt right in his direction.

"He's been working deep UC to catch the culprit in the act," I told him.

"UC?" Uncle Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Undercover. With disguises and everything. The cowboy I got stuck with on the Sky Ride? Frankie. The insuiting clown? Frankie."
I decided not to mention the chicken. I wasn't all that comfortable with that particular personality, so I could only guess
at Uncle Frank's reaction.

"I thought you said the clown was the bad guy," Uncle Frank said, clearly trying to get a handle on the situation.

"The horn-tooting trolley clown was," I explained, remembering that horn in the Emporium with some unease.

"So, there are two clowns?"

I nodded. "And one cowboy."

"And the two of you have been staking out my businesses, trying to catch the crooks?" he asked. "You know, I did kinda wonder
what brought you down to the fairgrounds the night you caught the Daggett girl, but I sure as heck didn't expect this. By
the way, why is this the first I'm hearing of it? Last I knew, I was the owner of record."

I nodded. "I wanted to tell you, but Frankie convinced me that if anyone else knew, chances were the bad guys would hear about
it, too, and back off, leaving him high and dry." I smiled, thinking of Frankie's little routine in the dunk tank. "Frankie
desperately wants to clear his name, Uncle Frank," I went on, "and he feels this might well be the only way to do it. I'm
sorry we kept you out of the loop."

"Stakeouts, huh?" Uncle Frank rubbed his chin. "Wonder why I didn't think of that? Guess I've had a lot on my mind. So, who
was supposed to be staking out this establishment last night?" he asked.

I hung my head. "Me," I admitted, disappointment that I'd let him down making my stomach hurt. "I slept through my alarm.
I got down here a little after four, and that's when I found Frankie."

To my shock and surprise, Uncle Frank put a hand on my shoulder and a finger on my chin and tilted my head up so our eyes
met. "Don't you be putting that hangdog look on," he said. "You put yourself out there for me and my family, niece, and don't
think for a minute you let me down. You hear?"

I felt my nose sting and my eyes begin to burn and water. I could take a lot of things from Uncle Frank—
had
taken a lot from him—but gratitude and gentleness? Well, this was a first. Mr. Sensitive, Uncle Frank wasn't.

"Thanks, Uncle Frank," I said.

"Thank
you
," he said, and gave me a big bear hug.

I pulled away and looked up at him. "Now you remember, you can't tell a soul about our little covert operation," I told him.
"We've only got four days left to catch the UNSUB and clear your son's name."

"UNSUB?"

"Unidentified subject."

"I will have to tell your Aunt Reggie, though," he said, and I nodded.

"I know," I agreed. "I think it will do her a world of good, knowing her only son is alive and well." Though he's living a
life as a chicken franchise mascot.

"I'll handle stakeout duties here tonight," Uncle Frank told me. "You've earned a night off."

"Are you sure? Frankie and I usually put a bedroll down behind the counter. That way, no one can see us from either window
and won't even know we're there until they're busted. But that floor is still pretty darned hard."

Uncle Frank frowned. "And you did this on your own, without backup or a weapon of any sort?"

"I had my camera and the cell phone," I said. "And the ability to scream really, really loud."

He shook his head. "No more solo stakeouts," he commended. "You recruit someone you trust of the male persuasion to stay with
you or you're benched," he told me, ever the sports fan.

"But—"

"No buts, young lady. Find a partner or I pull the plug."

I nodded. "Okay," I agreed, resigned to the fact that I would have to ask the Don Juan of the DNR to partner up with me the
following night. It would be strictly business between us, though. No kisses, no hugs. No hanky. No panky.

"I'll get a message to Frankie that you're in the know and will be covering the Emporium tonight," I told Uncle Frank.

Uncle Frank's eyes widened. "You've got a system in place to relay messages to each other?" he asked.

/yYup. We're not a bunch of hillbillies here," I told him. "We use soophisteecated technology to communicate."

He gave me a funny look.

"We pass notes," I explained, and he nodded.

"Would you tell him something for me?" Uncle Frank asked. I detected a certain huskiness in his voice. "Tell him Mom and Dad
send their love."

I felt the weepies coming on again, and since an undercover operative really can't be seen with a case of the weepies, I excused
myself to blow my nose before the authorities arrived.

And they came. They saw. They rolled their eyes and shook their heads. I requested Trooper Dawkins, telling them he was familiar
with the case (all right, all right, and because he's so danged cute), but I was advised he wouldn't be on until eight. I
was surprised when Uncle Frank made me tell the cops that Frankie had actually been there, too, so I wouldn't be in hot water
if it came out later; however, we both felt it was best to leave out the particulars relating to our nightly temp security
jobs and Frankie's various theatrical disguises.

I'd stuck as close to the truth as I could, telling the cops that Frankie had gone to the Emporium to get something to eat
and to use the restroom, and that I had no idea where he'd gone from there. Which was true, although I had a pretty good idea
it was straight into the arms of Dixie Daggett, so she could kiss his boo-boo and make it all better. Even the mere thought
of that particular picture in my head gave me the willies.

It was close to eight a.m. by the time the troopers left and Aunt Reggie arrived. Uncle Frank shoved me out the front onto
the sidewalk, shut the door, and stuck a closed sign in the window. I figured he wanted uninterrupted time with Aunt Reggie
to explain things. I wondered how that conversation would go.

I headed for the campgrounds and some much-needed rest. Craig and Kimmie would take over at the Emporium at three, and Taylor
was at the mini-freeze until Mom relieved her midafternoon, so I actually had a day off. That realization almost made me giddy.
I could get some sleep, then venture out and take some fair photos and just enjoy myself for a while.

Remembering the camera, I unzipped the fanny pack pouch and pulled it out and switched it on. The low-battery indicator flashed,
but nothing else happened. Dang. I should have stuck it in the charger last night. Sticking it back in the pack, I climbed
the hill to the campgrounds, feeling the pull on my leg muscles as I ascended. I really did need to start that fitness program.
And I'd do it. I would. Right after the fair. I frowned. Uh-oh. Wasn't that when the Halloween candy arrived in the stores?

As I approached the trailer, I saw the picnic table under our pull-out awning was inhabited by two senior citizen sleuths,
one ranger from Jellystone Park, and one brother who was still in the doghouse with me.

"Heigh-ho!" I greeted the group, knowing I looked like I'd been sucked through a wind tunnel backward, but too tired to care.
Townsend and his granddad got to their feet, but my cloddish brother remained sitting.

"Crikeys! It's the snake huntah back from down undah!" Craig called out." 'Lo, mite. Beat up any harmless reptiles today?"

I felt my lip curl. It was way too early, and I was way too tired to put up with 'tude from my big brother. "No, but I could
be persuaded to knock some sense into a six-foot, loud-mouthed ass," I said.

He frowned.

"Bad night?" Townsend asked.

"You have no idea," I said. "Where's Kimmie?" I asked Craig, receiving only a terse jerk of his head toward the trailer in
response.

"You look at our pictures yet?" Joe asked, reaching out for a fat blueberry bagel. I smiled when I spotted the fat-free cream
cheese container. Right.

"Battery conked," I said. "I'm gonna stick it on the charger now. I'll take a look at them later."

"You been down to the see that big bull?" Joe asked the other men at the table. Both shook their heads. "It's worth your time—isn't
it, Hannah?" Joe said. "Although, for a male, it's a bit of a humbling experience."

I started to giggle.

"What's so funny?" Gram asked. "Did I miss something again?"

I shook my head. "I'm just tired," I explained, "and when I'm tired everything strikes me as funny."

"Even five-foot-long bull snakes?" Craig asked with a smirk.

"How is the repugnant little trespassing vertebrate, anyway?" I asked Townsend. "Recovering nicely, I suppose, given all the
TLC you lavished on him last night after my brutal beating. What an insensitive durfwad you must think me not to have welcomed
Mr. Swiffer into my bed with open arms."

Townsend gave me such an intense look, it made me think back on what I'd said. I blushed when I rewound to the "welcoming
into my bed with open arms" part.

"He'll live," Rick said.

"To invade someone else's living area, no doubt," I grumped. "He'd better be careful. Next time someone will use a hoe instead
of a Swiffer sweeper thingy."

"Am I gonna get my afghan back?" Gram asked. "I crocheted that myself. Only blanket I ever finished."

Townsend shrugged. "It's got a little snake blood on it, but since the blanket's maroon you probably won't even notice. If
that doesn't bother you, you're good to go."

I gave a shiver. "I'll replace the blanket," I told Gram.

"Can you replace ten years of swollen joints and finger cramps?" she asked.

I looked at Townsend. "Give her the blanket," I said.

Gram considered her options for about a tenth of a second. "I'd like a nice cornflower blue throw," she decided, and Townsend
smiled and sat. "Not one of those cheapos you sell at Bargain City, Tressa, but a nice one, with fringe on the borders. You'll
have to take me with you when you get it. If I don't go, you'll come back with a horse blanket."

I nodded. "Gotcha, Gram," I said, noticing an open atlas sitting on the table amid various printed sheets of paper. I picked
it up. It was open to Northern Ontario.

"Someone planning a vacation?" I asked, shuffling the papers around on the table. " Wild Goose Family Resort,'" I read. "Are
you and Kimmie planning a little getaway?" I asked Craig, who started gathering up the loose pages. He grabbed the atlas from
me and stuck the loose papers inside.

"I told her she was welcome to come, too," Craig said, and I looked down at him, making one of those faces that dermatologists
warn you not to do or you'll give yourself forehead furrows.

"
Too
?"

"Yeah. Rick and a couple other guys and I are planning to take a fall hunting and fishing trip to Canada. I

told Kimmie she could come along. The cabins are big enough, so there would be more than enough room. We want to be there
for the moose hunts. Bow, that is," he clarified.

My eyebrows raised. "You invited your wife along on a moose hunt with three other men?" I asked. "Are you insane?"

"There's shopping twenty minutes away," Craig asserted.

"Near a golf course," Kimmie inserted from the doorway.

I nodded. "I get it now. You're going off on a sports vacation with the guys and you want to pacify Kimmie, here, with a lame
offer to invite her to come, knowing full well no woman in her right mind would tag along with a carload of men bent on hunting
moose with a bow. Give me a break, Craig."

Craig stood. "I work hard at the dealership," he said.

"And I work hard at the courthouse," Kimmie replied, coming to stand between her husband and me. Probably a good idea. "And
you don't see me taking off for two weeks and leaving the country with you home alone."

"So go," Craig said. "Do it. Nobody's stopping you."

"I don't want to take my vacation time and spend it away from you," she told him. "We're married. Husband and wife. We should
share our vacations. You know, be a family."

"Ah, I see what this is," Craig said. "There it is. The F word again: family. You're just annoyed because I'm not ready to
have a family yet. Admit it."

I saw tears pool in Kimmie's eyes.

"When do you plan to be ready, Craig?" she asked. "When? After one more Canadian vacation? After one more NCAA championship?
After one more Superbowl? When? When will you be ready to become a father?"

"I don't know!" Craig yelled, running his hand through his hair. "I don't know. But I'm not there yet. Okay?"

"No, it is not okay," Kimmie said. "You've got to grow up, Craig, and stop spending your life with your head in some game
or contest or sport. And it better happen soon, because I won't wait forever." She spun around and entered the trailer, sliding
the door closed with a snap.

Selfish ass
, I said under my breath, though from the look Craig gave me, it might've slipped out. My brother gathered up his flyers and
stomped off toward his pickup, which was parked alongside the trailer.

"Well, you were a big help, Townsend," I said, taking the seat Craig had vacated.

"Me? What do I have to do with this?" Rick asked.

"You saw the tension between those two and the serious unresolved issues—like, why can't my brother stop his game-playing
obsessions and attain adulthood? Why didn't you say something? Tell him you think he should reconsider and cancel the trip?
Stay close to hearth and home and all that?"