Calamity @ the Carwash (Parson's Cove Mysteries) (26 page)

I went back inside and watched through
the kitchen window. About ten minutes later, Jeff came out. I moved away from
the window in case he was watching. When I looked again, he was disappearing
around the corner.

The afternoon was getting away on me.
Calvin would be returning from the city soon. How much time did I have? A half
hour to an hour at the most.

First of all, I did knock. Very loudly.
Then, to make sure, I opened the door and yelled.

“Jeff? Jennifer? Are you here?” Then,
more loudly, in case someone was lurking anywhere, I yelled out again, “Just
checking to see if everyone is okay. Shirley wanted me to check on you.” Okay,
so that was a blatant lie but if I needed to save my hide, it would be worth
it.

There was no answer. The only sound was
the hum of the old refrigerator. It was as old as the house almost and I
remembered it from a few previous break-ins. (Me breaking in, that is.)

I stepped in and closed the door. The
kitchen looked the same as it had when Mr. Krueger built the house. Very sad.
At least, I’ve installed new cupboards and windows within the last twenty
years. The Krueger house, sat frozen in time. A fleeting feeling of sadness and
nostalgia passed through me. It had to be fleeting because I had very little
time to do what I needed to do.

I did a quick survey of the kitchen.
There were no obvious signs of drugs anywhere. I opened the cupboards, pulled
out the drawers and checked the fridge. All I found were dishes, cutlery and
food. Next, I tackled the upstairs. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom.
Where does a person look for illegal drugs? I lifted the mattresses, looked
under the beds and checked all the drawers. There were less places to search in
the bathroom; and like the bedrooms, I came up empty.

One place left to investigate - the
basement. This is not my favorite spot. A few years’ back, I happened upon a
dead body down there. About a year later, I hid down there, fearing for my
life. As I descended the stairs, it did not bring back any happy memories.

It was as messy and musty smelling as I
remembered. In fact, it looked the same as it had about a year ago, except for
three boxes piled one on top of the other, sitting at the bottom of the steps.
It was a good place to start my search because if I found what I was looking
for, I wouldn’t have to go into any dark creepy corners.

My only problem was the duck tape. How
could I rip off the tape and sneak a look without Jeff knowing?

I needn’t have worried. There was a loud
rap on the kitchen door; then, another knock - louder than the first. The door
opened and someone called out Jeff’s name. He called three times, each time
louder than the time before.

I eased myself back into a dark creepy
corner behind the steps.

Much to my dismay, whoever was up there
was not leaving. In fact, he walked directly down the creaky wooden stairs. He
stopped at the boxes. If he’d turned his head and peered through the steps, he
would’ve looked right into my eyes. My back was up against the cement wall so I
wasn’t going anywhere. All I had going for me was luck and that wasn’t too
reassuring.

I could see who it was, however, and
that made me somewhat apprehensive. Not that I’d ever thought of Scooter as a
killer but I wasn’t really trusting that many people in Parson's Cove anymore.
I became even more concerned when I saw him yank up his pant leg and whip out a
deadly looking hunting knife that he had strapped to his leg. He pulled it out
and sliced the duck tape in one swift easy motion. Obviously, he was in a hurry
to get into that box because he dropped the knife on the floor and ripped open
the flaps.

I have no idea what expression he had on
his face because my eyes were where his were – on the contents of that box. He
reached his hand in and I held my breath. Slowly he removed one plastic bag
after another and set them on the floor. After he’d removed them all (I would
say there were about twenty bags), he put them back. That is, all of them but
two. Those two, he stuffed into his jacket pockets. Then, he carefully put the
box that he’d opened at the bottom of the pile. That’s how intelligent Scooter
is.

At this point, both of my feet were
beginning to tingle so I was hoping he’d escape with those bags before I
collapsed on the floor. That, however, appeared to be the least of my worries.

Someone was banging on the door. Three
callers in one afternoon. Several loud raps and then, “Open up. Police!”

Scooter stood frozen in his tracks;
fear, shock and panic engraved on his face.

The kitchen door suddenly burst open
with such force that the house shuddered. By the sounds of the footsteps above,
there must have been dozens of cops. I’m not sure if they were taking turns
yelling, ‘police’ but it seemed that they were.

Scooter hadn’t moved. He looked up to
the top of the stairs and as his eyes lowered, they rested right on mine.
Neither one of us moved. He stared at me and I stared back. Unfortunately, his
brain went into gear before mine did. In one swift move, he picked up his
knife, dashed around the staircase and grabbed me by the arm. Perhaps if both
my feet hadn’t been asleep, I could’ve tried to escape. As it was, I simply
sank to the cement floor forcing Scooter to hold me up while pointing his
hunting knife at my neck.

“Ow,” I yelled. “What do you think
you’re doing?”

“What do you
think
I’m doing?
Stand up and you won’t get hurt.”

“I can’t stand up; my feet are dead. I
can’t move them.”

“You’d better move them,” he hissed in
my ear, “Or your feet won’t be the only thing that’s dead.”

“Oh, you’ll use your knife this time?
Can’t find a brick?”

I guess some of the cops stopped yelling
upstairs long enough to hear us and yelled down from the top of the stairs,
“Okay, down there, come up with your hands in front so we can see them.”

“Mabel,” Scooter said, very quietly, “I
want you to walk in front of me. Put your hands up but remember I’ll be right
behind you with a knife in your back. Got that?”

“I got that but I think you’re going
about this whole thing in the wrong way.”

“Oh well, pardon me, how should I be
going about it?”

Another voice bellowed from above, “Did
you hear me down there? Get up here and hold your hands up where I can see
them.”

I’d recognize that bellow anywhere.
“It’s okay, Captain Maxymowich. This is Mabel Wickles down here. Scooter and I
will be up in a minute.”

Scooter’s hand dropped down.

“Oh boy, now why did you have to go and
do that?” he said. “Don’t you know I could kill you if I wanted to? What’s the
matter with you anyway?”

“What’s the matter with me? Don’t you
know you’re in big enough trouble? If those are your drugs down here, then
you’ll be carted off to jail for who knows how long. But, if you’re only
breaking and entering, of which I’m also guilty, then you might not even go to
jail. Don’t you even think before you do things?”

“Are you all right down there, Mabel?”
Maxymowich yelled.

“I’m okay. We’re on our way up now.
Scooter has a knife but I’m sure he isn’t going to use it on me.”

I once again had feeling in my feet and
as I started up the stairs, I could hear Scooter muttering, “Stupid old biddy.
Stupid woman. Shoulda killed her when I had the chance.”

By the time I’d reached the third rung,
I looked up. Five guns stared me in the face. The Captain was standing in the
center of the doorway, his gun drawn as if nothing in the human realm could
harm him. To his left, on his knees, was a tough looking bald cop who looked
like he could pull the trigger and not even break a sweat. Above him, was the
female cop, both hands holding the gun straight out in front of her and kindly
pointing it right at me. On the other side of the door were two more cops in
the same formation. No one was smiling so I knew this was no joke. I raised my
arms and ascended the steps. This is not as easy as it sounds, especially if
you’re anticipating a knife being hurled into your back at any time.

Chapter
Thirty Seven

“Are you crazy, Mabel?” Reg said. “I
asked you to watch the house, not break and enter it.” He rolled his eyes and
shook his head. He’d been pacing the floor for the past ten minutes.

“Would you please sit down? You’re
driving me crazy. Every time I look up to say something, you’re at the other
end of the room.”

“And, what do you have to say? You can
make up every excuse in the book to me but what the heck are you going to tell
Maxymowich?” He finally pulled out one of my kitchen chairs and sat down. With
a big sigh, of course. He leaned over and stared at me. “So, Mabel? What are
you going to tell him? I think it’s amazing that he sent you home and didn’t
cuff you.”

“Oh come off it, Reg. Maxymowich knows
that I’m not a drug runner or whatever they’re called. Also, since I’m the one
whose back was in the most danger of being speared, I don’t think he was too
concerned. Besides, there was a bag of my fresh muffins sitting on the table so
I can clearly explain my reason for being there.”

“Ha! You were taking the long way home
through the basement? Come on, you know very well you can’t just walk into
people’s homes and snoop around. Even cops need a search warrant.”

“That’s right, Reg. Cops need a permit
but since I’m not a cop, I can just walk in. Especially if I suspect something
illegal is going on. It’s my duty to protect my neighbors. What kind of person
would I be if I didn’t? Haven’t you heard of a citizen’s arrest?”

I was waiting for a burst of cuss words
but instead Sheriff Smee started laughing so hard, I thought he was going to
fall off his chair.

“Okay, Reg. What’s so darn funny? One
minute you’re mad at me and the next you think I’m a big joke, is that it?”

The sheriff pulled a red cotton
handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his eyes. Beth had obviously
missed this hankie when she did her Monday wash.

“No, I don’t think you’re a joke at all.
I think you could talk your way out of anything.” He stood up, with a smirk still
on his face. “Well, I won’t worry about you, Mabel. Give me a call in the
morning and let me know how you make out. In fact, try to get as much
information out of the Captain as you can.” He started chuckling again.

Before he reached the door, he turned
and said, “By the way, that pile of bricks in the yard next to Krueger’s? That
pile’s been sitting there for years and there was obviously one brick missing.
It’s the one that someone used to hit Biscuit and Bernie on the head. And,
Murray? I tried to talk to him but he was so drugged and confused, all he could
talk about was God and that if Melanie was found guilty, God would look after
her.”

I imagine that Erma was rethinking how
many crushed pills she should put in Murray’s tea.

I didn’t have to wait too long for
Maxymowich to show up. He knocked on the door about two hours later. I held it
open and he sauntered into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and slumped into
it as if he did this sort of thing on a regular basis.

After running his fingers through his
white hair several times he said, “Mabel, I could sure use a cup of coffee and
a nice fresh muffin. Strawberry, if you have it.”

“Captain,” I said. “This is Mabel
Wickles’ restaurant. It will take only a few minutes. However, before I start
brewing fresh coffee, I’d like to know if I’m being charged with any crime;
after all, I was in someone’s home uninvited.”

“Really?” he said. “I didn’t realize
that. I’ve always been under the impression that, as a good neighbor, you
always keep your eye on Miss Krueger’s house.” He raised his eyebrows. “Or, was
I mistaken?”

“Absolutely not. In fact, I just
finished telling Sheriff Smee the exact same thing.” I gave him my best smile.
He had no idea how much better my stomach felt. “If you’d like you could relax
in the living room and I’ll bring the coffee in as soon as it’s ready.”

He looked around my kitchen as if that
would help make up his mind. His eyes rested on the five cats who were sitting
in a row, staring up at him. “I think I’ll stay here. Those cats might attack
me without you close by.” Then, smiling, he said, “Besides, you have a very
comfortable kitchen, Mabel.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that
he made me uncomfortable.

“Are you curious about the drug bust we
made? Or, should I say the one that you helped us make?” he asked.

“Helped you?” I sat down. “I didn’t
realize anyone from the police department was aware of anything I was doing.”

“Oh, trust me, Mabel; we’re always aware
of what you’re doing.” Another attractive smile.

“I guess that should be reassuring to
me.” I smiled my best smile in return. “So, Scooter was stealing drugs from
Jeff?”

He nodded. “How about you keep working
on that coffee? Can I talk to you while you’re doing that?”

My face felt slightly warmer than
normal. “Of course,” I said. “Would you like to try my new apple muffins?”
Without waiting for a reply, I went into my pantry and pulled out one bag of
strawberry and one bag of apple muffins. There were a dozen in each bag so I
knew I’d be sharing muffins with a few people for the next day or so.