Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom (15 page)

“No!” I screamed,
lunging at the little dog as that creep grinned and gunned the
motor. The startled dog did as I hoped she would, sprinting up onto
the sidewalk, away from the crazy lady. I follow her, even as I
heard the crunch of metal behind me.
Thank God for lamp posts that come between me and my
assailant.
The moron behind the
wheel shifted again and peeled out, leaving a trail of black rubber
and the shattered pieces of his right tail light on the
road.

“Oh, my God! He tried
to kill you!” Poor Jenny was horrified. “He drove right at
you!”

There was no time to
think about that now. “Help me get January.”

The Jack Russell was
now standing some ten feet away, yapping at me. “Come on, girl. I
did it for your own good. I didn’t want you to get
crushed.”

It took January a few
long moments to come to her senses. Still agitated from her chase,
doggie adrenaline pumping, she paced beside a bush. I knelt down on
the grass and called her.

“Here, baby. I’m sorry.
What do you say -- am I forgiven?”

“It’s okay, girl.
Everything’s fine now,” Jenny sat cross-legged beside me, her voice
soft and soothing as she encouraged January. “Wasn’t she amazing,
Miz Scarlet? She really tried to take that guy
down.”

“She would have made a
good, little police dog,” I smiled, as the little terrier finally
came to me. I gave her an affectionate pat on the head before
scooping her up in my arms. “Brave girl, you definitely deserve a
biscuit for that!”

Kenny was waiting for
us at the front porch. “Did you get the license
plate?”

“Before or after the
guy tried to run me over?” I growled.

“Oh, geez!” That
sounded like dismay from the security expert. I couldn’t tell if he
was commiserating with me over my near-miss or disappointed I
couldn’t identify the truck. Maybe it was a little of both. I took
pity on him, noting the purple mark across his jaw.

“Relax. We don’t really
need the plate,” I announced, on the way to the kitchen. “I
recognized one of the guys. He was a student at the high
school.”

I grabbed an ice pack
from the freezer and handed it to Kenny, while we waited for the
police to show up. Bur was upstairs with Jenny and Lacey, retracing
the steps of our intruders. I could hear them talking as they went
from room to room.

“I was sound asleep,”
Lacey told them. “My door swung open and this masked man came
rushing in!”

“What did he want?”
Jenny wanted to know.

“I don’t know. When he
saw me, he backed out and shut the door again. That’s when I
screamed for help.”

The faraway whine of
sirens broke through the bird symphony outside, interrupting a
house wren in fine voice. A minute later, the police sedan pulled
up to the front door of the Four Acorns Inn and a couple of
uniformed officers emerged.

“Come on in,” I greeted
Officer Peters and a female partner. Looking past them, I spied an
unmarked cruiser crawling down the street at fifteen miles an hour,
going east. A moment later, a marked cruiser crept up White Oak
Hill Road in the opposite direction.

Peters saw my interest.
“We got a call about a couple of masked men running through the
neighborhood just before you called us. We assumed it’s related, so
if we don’t spot them soon, we’re going to do a
house-to-house.”

“I know the identity of
one of them,” I announced. “He used to be a student when I taught
at Cheswick High.”

Out came the notebook
from Officer Lindquist’s pocket. She started taking notes with a
pen. After scribbling a few words on a blank page, she waited
expectantly.

“Neil
Kradic.”

“Neil...C-r-a-d-d-o-c-k?”

“No,” I shook my head
and gave her the correct spelling.

“Is there bad blood
between the two of you? Could he have a grudge he’s looking to
settle?” Peters studied my reaction.

“Kradic got himself
into minor trouble in high school. He skipped classes, he refused
to do his homework, and he was a regular pain in most of the
teachers’ necks, but there wasn’t much animosity
involved.”

“So, you were surprised
to see him here today?”

“Absolutely. I haven’t
worked at the high school for quite some time, and Neil’s got to be
pushing thirty.”

“Do you remember the
last time you saw him?” Peters leaned against the Victorian newel
post at the bottom of the stairs.

“As a matter of fact, I
do. It was my last week of teaching. Godfrey Beddens’ physics class
was outside with the catapult they had built as a group project.
Neil stole a watermelon from the cafeteria kitchen, loaded it into
the catapult, and nailed the principal’s station wagon in the
parking lot. Unfortunately, instead of it being one of those
Gallagher moments, with a watermelon splattering all over the
place, the force and trajectory of the flying fruit shattered the
windshield. Gloria Hornyak was fit to be tied. That was pretty
typical of Neil Kradic -- bad judgment and dumb pranks, but not
necessarily dangerous to teachers or peers.”

“And yet, he was here
today, menacing Lacey,” Kenny pointed out. “That’s hardly harmless
behavior.”

“True. I think it was
his companion who egged him on,” I sighed, reflecting on our recent
face-to-face. “But I still can’t figure out why they broke in, or
why they trussed and taped Bur up. It just makes no sense to
me.”

“A lot of people get
stupid when they’re hooked on heroin or meth,” Officer Lindquist
said. “They do dangerous things.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t
get the impression they were under the influence of anything.
Believe me; I’ve seen a lot of kids high -- alcohol, marijuana,
speed, even ecstasy. Neil’s eyes were clear and bright. But there
was something wonky about all this.”

“In what way?” Officer
Peters wondered.

“Why did they have a
bed sheet and duct tape handy when they went after Bur? If they
were just here to rob the inn, why go after Bur outside? And who
was the person in the garden, the one who chopped up the blueberry
bushes?”

Officer Lindquist
shrugged. “You can’t always know what’s going on in someone’s
addled brain.

“Maybe it was
deliberate, a distraction,” Kenny suggested, “that would enable
them to get inside the inn.”

"But how did they know
I would choose that moment in time to glance out the kitchen
window?” I gazed up at him expectantly, hoping he had a ready
answer, but I got nothing. “If I had been just a few minutes later,
I’d have never witnessed his appearance in the garden. None of this
adds up.”

“Unless they were
watching you and waited for you to notice them. Maybe they were
deliberately moving around out there, trying to get you to pay
attention.”

“It’s all very odd,” I
replied. “What’s the point of all this harassment?”

“I still think it’s an
attempt to intimidate you.” Kenny was adamant.

“I agree.” We all
turned to find Detective Valboa standing a few feet away. “Consider
the explosive device, the punctured tires on the car, and the
earlier intrusion, the one that scared your teenager. It was
supposed to frighten all of you. Why would today’s event be any
different?”

“But I thought we had
already determined that was the handiwork of David and Diana
Wilkie,” Officer Lindquist pointed out.

“It was, but they were
likely hired to harass. That means we don’t have the brains behind
the effort, as evidenced by today’s events. Grabbing Mr. Wilson in
the garden and Mrs....”

“
Ms.
Googins,” Lacey announced, making her way down
the long, gracious staircase like a soap opera diva. She had
exchanged her cotton nightie for a stylish pantsuit. “I’ve decided
to reclaim my maiden name.”

“Really?” That slipped
out of my mouth before I could edit it.

“Really.” The petite
senior citizen paused at the third step from the bottom, so that
she towered over us. “You might be quite correct about that,
Detective. That horrible young man rushed out of my room when I
screamed, but he returned when everyone came running into the
house. I thought he was being rather theatrical when he threatened
to throw me over the railing.”

“Where was the other
young man?” Valboa wanted to know.

“Let me think. I first
saw him when he appeared suddenly in the hall.” Lacey recalled.
“Good heavens! I believe he was in the Wilkies’
room!”

“Scarlet, did you clean
the White Oak Room yet?” Kenny demanded.

“I went to bed so late
last night, I just haven’t had time. It’s been one thing after
another. Besides, you asked me to lock the room, Detective
Valboa.”

“Indeed I did. Let’s
take a look,” he replied. I led the way up the stairs to the
Wilkies’ room and started to insert my key in the lock, but there
was no need. It had been jimmied. I stood aside to let the cops
inside. “Has anything been removed from here by you or your
staff?”

“I don’t believe
so.”

“Wait here,” he
directed us, shutting the door. We could hear the occasional mumble
as the three members of the Cheswick police force did an inspection
of the accommodation used by Dave and Diana Wilkie.

Bur and Jenny joined us
just outside the White Oak Room. She looked rather pleased with
herself.

“I cleaned the adhesive
from the duct tape off of Poup with some salt water and baby oil.
He was a real sticky mess. What’s going on?”

“The police are trying
to determine if the Wilkies’ possessions have been disturbed,” I
replied, leaning against the wall. Kenny plunked himself down on a
hallway chair, wincing as he stretched his sore
leg.

“Oh, I forgot their
stuff was still here,” said my assistant.

“This latest episode
might have been staged as some kind of diversion.” Kenny leaned
against the wall, arms folded. He was still bothered by the run-in
Bur had in the garden.

“A diversion?” the
teenage asked.

“Yes, to give those men
a chance to search for something in the Wilkies’
room.”

“Like
what?”

“I don’t know. It could
be just about anything.”

The round white
Victorian glass knob suddenly turned. A moment later, Officer
Peters appeared and, waving a finger in my direction, beckoned to
me. As I stepped into the room, the others crowded around the open
door, peering in eagerly.

The
Matelassé coverlet
on
my grandmother’s antique poster bed was cut down the middle. The
velvet drapes I made for the room were now trimmed to hang just
three inches or so below the upper sash, the remaining fabric
crumpled on the floor. Dresser drawers had been pulled open, their
contents strewn everywhere. But it was the feather pillows that
caused the most dismay. Not only had the puncture-proof cases been
cut open, the contents had been dumped out, leaving a thin, white
covering of soft down on the wood floor. In a December Christmas
display, it would have been a pretty sight; in a guest room at the
Four Acorns Inn in May, it was just annoying. A constant swirl of
feathers rose and fell as we crossed the room, the movement of our
shuffling feet creating air currents that lifted them with each
step. One tickled the tip of my nose as it floated gently back down
to earth; I waved it away with more force than
necessary.
Boy, this is going to
be a bitch to clean up. I hope the vacuum cleaner won’t choke on
all the feathers. With my luck, though, I will. Maybe I’d better
wear a mask. Too bad those devils didn’t drop one of theirs on the
way out.

But it was the White
Oak bathroom that gave me a most unpleasant surprise. Shaving foam
dripped from the wall-mounted mirror onto the sink and the
Victorian tiles below. The tube of Crest toothpaste had been
squirted on the window panes and woodwork, its sticky peppermint
squiggles perfuming the air. In the bottom of the shower stall sat
a pile of thick, fluffy towels, topped with a gooey mixture of
shampoo, conditioner, and body lotion. Gazing around, I felt like
I’d stepped into a high school locker room. The only thing the
creeps didn’t do was use the toilet paper for ceiling
streamers.

“Wow, somebody’s got it
in for you,” said Officer Peters. “I’m guessing neither of these
guys ever qualified as teacher’s pet.”

“You think?” I growled,
my frustration rising quickly. “What’s the point of all
this?”