by Nic Saint
“Boyd Baker,” I said, storing up this information. “So we talked to Camilla, who is a macaw, but she refused to cooperate, unfortunately. She seems to have some sort of irrational fear of cats, and kept saying the most insulting things about us.”
“She’s afraid we’ll eat her,” said Dooley. “Which made it hard to talk to her.”
“Right,” said Odelia as she took a cup from the cupboard, selected a tea bag from the tin, and aimed it into the cup. “In other words, you struck out.”
“Yes, we did,” I admitted.
“Kingman said there might be animals even older than Camilla,” said Dooley,” but since they’re mollusks they probably won’t have a lot of interesting things to tell us about this Boyd Baker.”
“No, you’re absolutely right,” said Odelia with a sigh as she took a seat on one of the high kitchen stools, took her notebook from her purse, and studied her notes. Odelia is a very avid note keeper, which is probably a good thing for a reporter. Cats, on the other hand, have to carry all of our notes inside our heads, as we don’t have pockets to put a notebook, or the opposable thumbs to handle a pencil. Luckily we have a lot of brain capacity, so we simply file all the information away up there in our noggin for later use.
“We could always go back and visit Camilla again,” I suggested. “Maybe this time she’ll be more amenable.”
“Yes, maybe she was in a bad mood,” Dooley agreed.
“If you think it’s worth a shot, why not?” said Odelia, and enjoyed her tea for a couple of minutes while she read through her notes.
I wondered where Chase was, but decided not to ask. When Odelia is busy working on a case, or a story, it’s best to simply leave her be. Humans function a lot better when they’re not interrupted every five seconds.
Which is why the interruption, when it suddenly came, was so annoying.
Chapter 20
Marge was in the basement, while Gwayn was whacking away at some pipe or other. She winced at the clanging sound and hoped the man knew what he was doing and not destroying what was left of the house’s plumbing system.
“There,” he finally grunted as he gave the pipe one more whack, possibly as a parting gift. “That should do it.”
“So… it’s fixed now?” she asked, almost afraid to utter the words in case she might jinx the repairman’s magic.
“I hope so.” He moved to a corner of the basement and opened the small tap that had been installed there. And when the cool, clear stream spouted from the tap, Marge almost whimpered with delight.
Instead, she clamped her hands together and said, “Oh, thank you so much, Gwayn. I thought I’d never see the day.”
“Just a minor issue with a rusted valve,” he said as he wiped his hands on a rag then started placing the instruments of his trade back inside his toolbox. “So how about that body? They ever find out who it belonged to?” he asked as he directed a curious gaze at the hole that was still plainly visible in the outer wall.
“My brother says it’s Boyd Baker, the man who lived here before we bought the house. My daughter is looking into it, and Alec, of course,” she added, wondering why she would put more faith in her daughter’s investigative qualities than her brother’s. “Tex and I bought the house from Boyd’s widow Phyllis. Apparently he disappeared fifty-five years ago, and this is where he ended up.” She placed extra emphasis on the number fifty-five, just in case Gwayn would be amongst those who thought the body belonged to her dearly departed dad, murdered by her mother.
“The Bakers, huh?” said Gwayn with a frown. “I remember Ma Baker, of course. Didn’t she pass away a couple of years ago?”
“Yes, she did. Her daughter and son are still with us, though.”
“Yeah, I seem to remember my dad doing some work for the Bakers back in the day. Though I could be wrong, of course. Names and faces,” he added apologetically. “My mind is like a sieve. Dad was much better with faces. He could see a person once and never forget what they looked like. Amazing gift, especially in our line of work. Well, then,” he said. “I think that should do it. I’ll check upstairs and then I’ll be off.”
“Thank you so much, Gwayn. You’re a miracle worker.”
“Yeah, well, wouldn’t want you to be without water all night, would we?” he said. He moved up the stairs, Marge right behind him. In the kitchen, Vesta and Tex were still arguing about the future of mankind, or Tex’s dream of becoming the next winner of The Voice and a musical talent to be reckoned with, but when Gwayn walked in they both shut up. They might not like each other very much, but there was one thing they both agreed on: never hang out your dirty laundry for the whole world to see.
Gwayn fiddled with the tap, and when the water ran, Marge heaved a sigh of relief.
“Funny, huh?” said Gwayn, who made no indication to leave, “If it hadn’t been for your valve to go bust, I would never have had to take out that piece of wall, and Boyd Baker would never have been found. Weird how things can work out like that. Makes you wonder how many other bodies are buried all over the place, waiting to be found by an enterprising plumber.” And with these words he finally took his leave.
“Boyd Baker?” asked Gran. “Is he the dead dude?”
“Yeah, Phyllis Baker’s husband, the woman we bought the house from,” said Marge.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Gran. “I always thought there was something fishy about that couple.”
“Of course you did,” said Tex acerbically. “You think there’s something fishy about every couple. Or every single person you meet.”
“No, I don’t. But the Bakers…” She frowned. “I seem to remember hearing stories about Boyd Baker. Stories about how he wasn’t as honest as he showed himself to be.”
“You mean he was a crook?” asked Marge.
“Yeah, something like that. He was a gardener, right? Used to work for this big landscaping company, and every time he showed up to do a place things would go missing. Jewelry, money, bits and bobs. No one ever accused him of anything, but rumor had it Boyd had a buddy who worked as a fence and could sell whatever Boyd managed to lay his hands on.”
“Like that brooch,” said Marge. “The brooch they found on him.”
“Yeah, but why would whoever killed him leave that brooch? That doesn’t make sense. If he was killed by the person the brooch belonged to, wouldn’t they take it?”
“They could have been in a terrible rush.”
“Or not thinking straight,” said Tex. “Especially if this wasn’t a professional hit they may have panicked and forgotten to search his pockets. And in the fifty-five years he was stuck inside that wall, his clothes may have pretty much turned to dust, but that brooch hasn’t.”
“Food for thought,” said Gran, slapping the table and getting up. “Now are we going to eat, or do I have to order Chinese again?”
“I thought you’d be interested in cracking this case,” said Marge, surprised by her mother’s lack of interest.
“I gave up sleuthing a long time ago,” said Gran. “The world is about to end, Marge, so who cares about a couple of stiffs? We’ll all be dead soon, unless your husband gets his head out of his ass and turns this basement into a bunker so we can survive. Even then it’s gonna be touch and go. I’m not sure any bunker will be able to survive the initial blast, or those three-hundred-foot waves hitting us like sledgehammers, and all of that lava pouring out of those volcanoes, not to mention those volcanic winds. They roll in so hot and fast they’ll burn you to a crisp in nanoseconds. So if after the nukes, and the tsunami, and the lava and the volcanic winds this little bunker of ours is still here, and we’re still alive, it will be a great, big miracle.”
And with these words she got up and started giving her daughter a helping hand.
Chapter 21
‘”We need to act now, Johnny,” said Jerry as he watched the lights in the house go out.
“Now? But it’s not even eight o’clock.”
“Can’t you see wha
t’s going on? They all moved to the house next door, probably for dinner. We need to hit the place now, while there’s nobody there.”
“But I thought we were going to wait until after midnight, when they’ve all gone to bed.”
“That was Plan A,” said Jerry carefully. Long association with his partner had taught him to always move at the speed of Johnny’s intelligence, which was pretty much a snail’s pace. If he tried to rush things Johnny could get mulish: he’d refuse to budge until he had the whole thing laid out to him in minute detail. “Look, I asked around, and this broad is the daughter of the people next door, and I’ll bet they’ve all gone over there for dinner, so if we move fast we have the place to ourselves. If we wait until after midnight, we might bump into the cop that lives there. You know how cops suffer from those night terrors, on account of all the trauma and stuff, so he’ll probably come traipsing into the kitchen just as we’re lifting his nice flatscreen. What?” he asked when he noticed how Johnny sat staring at him with wide eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“A cop!” said Johnny. “You never said anything about a cop!”
“It doesn’t matter! He’s next door, enjoying a nice family dinner. The coast is clear, Johnny, but it won’t be for long. You know how cops eat. They wolf down their meals and before you know it he’ll be flopping down in front of the television to watch ESPN.”
“I’m not going in there,” said Johnny, shaking his head stubbornly. “You never said anything about a cop and I don’t like the idea of burgling a cop’s house.”
“It’s not his house. The place belongs to his girlfriend, some reporter chick.”
“Yeah, but if she’s dating a cop…”
“Look, I’m going in there and I’m going to take whatever loot I can find. You stay here and act like a pussy. I don’t care.”
It was a risky move, but one that had worked in the past.
“Okay, fine,” said Johnny finally. “I’ll go with you. But if we bump into that cop I’ll tell him this was your idea.”
“Oh, so now you’ll rat me out, huh?”
“I didn’t know it was a cop’s place!”
“It’s not a cop’s place—oh, rats.” He climbed out of the car. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn’t be better off working alone. No endless arguments and no sharing the loot with a partner. But then he figured he’d probably miss the big oaf. Johnny might not have a lot going on up there, but he was basically a happy-go-lucky guy with a sunny personality that complemented Jerry’s sour-grapes character extremely well.
Both crooks quickly crossed the road at a trot, checking left and right as they did, and then disappeared into the shadows between the two houses. Emerging at the back, Jerry couldn’t believe their good fortune when he found the glass sliding door ajar.
“Un-freakin-believable!” he hissed as he put on his leather gloves and pushed the door further open.
“Yeah, this is a good sign,” Johnny agreed, though he still seemed nervous, darting anxious glances to the house next door, where the cop was enjoying his family feast.
They stepped inside and would have made a beeline for the television if Jerry hadn’t suddenly noticed a big, fat, red cat lying on the couch and staring at him with its glassy cat’s eyes. He shivered. He hated cats. They were even worse than dogs. Next to the fat red creature a smaller gray specimen rested, also watching them intently.
“Hey, kitty, kitty,” said Johnny. Though he preferred dogs, he was partial to all creatures great and small.
He reached out a hand to stroke the fat one’s fur when Jerry hissed, “Leave those stupid cats alone, will you? This ain’t a social call. Grab that TV and put it outside. I’ll look upstairs for the jewels and the money.”
From experience he knew that most people kept their valuables in the bedroom where they hoped no one would find them. Why this was he didn’t know. He would never keep anything in the bedroom, knowing that was where fellow crooks looked first.
He took the stairs two at a time, then moved into the bedroom, lighting his progress with the small penlight he kept just for these occasions. He searched around until he found the dresser and he’d only opened two drawers before he hit the jackpot: a small box filled to the brim with jewels. Earrings, bracelets, pendants, you name it, the reporter chick had it. Most of it wasn’t worth much, he could see at first glance, but there were one or two pieces that might fetch them a nice price.
He emptied the box in his shoulder bag and moved to the closet where often a small safe was located. No such luck here. He crossed to the second bedroom, which was some kind of office with an elliptical machine, and searched the drawers. Nothing much, but he took the laptop and the tablet computer. Then he proceeded to room number three and rifled through the closets. He quickly gave up, his expert eyes telling him there was nothing of value stored in there.
He’d arrived back downstairs where Johnny had already done the preliminaries and had searched through all the cupboards and closets and cabinets.
“Any safes?” he asked.
“Nah, nuthing, Jerry.”
“Maybe in the basement,” he said, and opened the door to the basement. A lot of people kept their safes in the basement, once again because they hoped no one would bother to look there. And as he and Johnny descended the stairs, he saw to his surprise that it was infested with even more cats than upstairs. A black one that looked kinda lost, and a white one that had its head stuck in the wall. “Look at that dumb critter,” he said, pointing to the white cat. But Johnny was staring at a part of the wall where someone had recently applied a hammer.
The cats were meowing up a storm, even the one with its head stuck in the wall. They were yowling and howling, making that horrible noise only cats can make, and that will drive you nuts if you listen to it for too long.
“Can’t you get them to shut up?” he asked his partner in crime. “If they keep this up someone will come and look.”
“Here, kitty, kitty,” said Johnny, bending over and trying to attract the attention of the black cat. “Nice kitty, kitty. Sweet little kitty.”
But whatever language he was speaking, it clearly made little impression on the cats, for they seemed to increase the volume of their laments.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Jerry grunted. “I can’t believe a bunch of stupid cats are going to ruin a perfectly nice burglary.”
He’d searched around the basement but had found no evidence of a safe, until he thought he saw something that looked promising: a small cupboard shoved up against the wall. So he opened it and immediately wished he hadn’t. Inside the cupboard dozens of mice stared back at him, their beady black eyes eyeing him with distinct malice!
“Yikes!” he shouted. He hated mice even more than he hated cats or dogs.
He jumped back but the mice had apparently not appreciated this intrusion on their privacy and jumped out of the cupboard and attacked!
“Help!” he cried as he tottered back and then stumbled and fell. Immediately he was overrun with mice. They were everywhere: on his head, on his arms, crawling into his shirt and on his bare skin. “Johnny! Help!” he screamed.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Johnny, and took a small cannon from his pocket. And before Jerry could tell him not to, he’d fired his firearm and a minor explosion rocked the basement, tearing a fist-sized hole in the wall. For a moment nothing happened, and then the mice all made a run for it, and raced to the far wall and disappeared.
“Thank God,” said Johnny, as he helped up his partner. “Are you all right, Jer?”
“Why did you have to go and fire that gun? And without a frickin’ silencer!”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it? I scared them off.”
“Let’s just get out of here,” said Jerry, and made for the staircase.
And he’d just put his foot on the first step when suddenly a burly figure appeared on the top step and shouted, “Freeze!”
The figure was also holding a gun in his hand, a
nd looked like he meant business.
Chapter 22
“A gunfight! In our basement!” Dooley was saying. “First the dead skeleton next door and now a gunfight!”
“Yeah, I feel like I’m in a gangster movie,” said Brutus as he licked his paws.
We were all on the couch in the living room while all around us activity buzzed. Cops had shown up en masse, and had taken the two gangsters off Chase’s hands, and now they were picking the bullet one of the crooks had fired out of the wall and investigating the loot they’d gathered. Everything lay piled up in a heap on the living room floor, where the gangsters had left it, and amongst the treasure was Odelia’s box of jewelry, the television, an envelope with cash Odelia liked to hide in the kitchen drawer for emergencies, and plenty of other stuff. They’d even laid their hands on Chase’s laptop, which probably has all kinds of very sensitive information on it about the world of crime and whatnot. And of course the tablet computer we like to use when we need to google something. All in all a nice haul, if they’d gotten away with it.
Unfortunately for them and fortunately for Odelia and Chase we’d quickly slipped out of the house the moment those two thugs had started rummaging through Odelia’s private things, and had warned Odelia, and it didn’t take long for Chase to come running, armed to the teeth.
“Imagine if they’d gotten away with it,” said Harriet now as she stared at the pile of personal possessions.
“Yeah, imagine,” said Brutus.
Both Brutus and Harriet appeared a little under the weather, I thought. Then again, an entire afternoon and part of the evening doing hanky panky will wear a cat out.
“So did you enjoy your hanky panky?” asked Dooley now.
Brutus and Harriet both looked up as if stung.
“What did you just say?” asked Harriet.
