Diced

by Deany Ray

  “Let’s pool our information,” I said, jumping in.

  “Make love, not war!” Marge squeaked.

  An interesting sentiment from the woman who was probably itching to pull out The Persuader. I hoped she had her gun in that purse.

  “If you let us go,” Marge said, “I’ll even give back my winnings from the bar. Which I won fair and square when we were on the hunt for Stanley.”

  “Wait a minute,” Deborah said. “You knew about the gambling? And you didn’t say a word?”

  “We were just investigating,” Celeste said. “We saw no reason to alarm you until we knew for sure.”

  “Will all of you please shut up?” Mr. X yelled. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. I came here to do a job.” He aimed his gun at Stanley. “And no one will stop yapping long enough for me to do it.”

  “Don’t shoot!” Marge squeaked. “Don’t do it! I don’t think Stanley is your guy. And he paid you back your money. He was just doing the best he could to pay his bills and live his life.”

  “Hmmph.” Deborah crossed her arms.

  “I beg of you,” Marty said. “Please let us go. Stanley’s done everything he could to try to make this right. I know my cousin. I know he’s a gentle soul. I can’t tell you who it was that put a knife in that Snakes-guy. But I promise you it wasn’t Stanley.”

  “It really, really wasn’t.” Stanley’s voice grew high again as his fear amped up. “I don’t know a thing about it. I never saw the guy until I found him on the floor.”

  Mr. X stepped back and studied Marty. “How did you know his name was Snakes? I never said his name.”

  In the silence that followed the question, all eyes turned to Marty, whose face had turned deadly pale.

  “Well…” he stammered, “the thing is that I…I must have heard that…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Hmm,” Mr. X said. “Maybe it wasn’t Stanley who did it after all.”

  “Don’t kill me,” Marty whispered. “Please. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  Nobody else could speak.

  Stanley finally broke the silence. “Marty? For the love of Pete. It was you?”

  “Out with it,” Mr. X barked. “Tell me how it all went down.”

  “I…I’d dropped by to see Stanley. I’d gotten tickets, tickets to a game. A last-minute thing, you know? I knew he’d be closing up, so I thought I’d drop by. I used the back door. There’s more parking spaces there.” He shook his head, wincing at the memory.

  “Go on,” Mr. X said angrily, moving closer with the gun.

  Marty continued in a low voice, as if it might somehow help to say the words in an almost whisper. “I looked around. He wasn’t there. I figured he’d just gone back into the storeroom or bathroom, that he’d be out any minute. So, I went back behind the counter where I knew they kept the coffee. The coffee was still warm and I poured a cup.” He paused, too scared to go on.

  “And?” Mr. X said.

  “And that’s when this Snakes came bursting through the back door.”

  “I knew it was the back door!” Marge squeaked. “We should have been watching the back door all along.”

  All eyes turned to her before she suddenly fell silent. I made a mental note to add muzzle to the shopping list the next time we went out for supplies.

  “Oh, man.” Marty ran his fingers through his hair. “I’d give anything to take it back. It all went down so fast. There wasn’t time to think.”

  “I get the picture now, boss,” the pirate said. I guess it wasn’t often he figured something out before someone explained to him what was what. “Snakes walks in and sees this dude, Marty, standing behind the counter. Snakes thinks it’s this dude he’s looking for.”

  “I told him it wasn’t me,” Marty said. “That he must be confused. I didn’t owe anything to anyone. He had the wrong guy. Not once did he say he was looking for Stanley. I connected those dots later.”

  “Both of you are worthless, you and your cousin,” Mr. X said. “You don’t kill one of my guys and live long to tell the story.”

  “Don’t kill my cousin. Please.” It was Stanley’s turn to beg. “Don’t involve him in my mess. It was just a mix-up. A horrid, tragic mix-up. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Please. I’m begging you.”

  Mr. X sneered. “Wrong time, wrong place, put the knife into the wrong guy because the dumbass didn’t think. Now it’s time to pay.”

  “But he’d have killed me first!” Marty cried. “He came at me with a knife when I tried to explain. I couldn’t let him stab me. I have kids! So many kids. He aimed the knife right at my chest. I swear! I just meant to grab it and to stop him from sticking it in me. But then he fought me hard and I…and I…Oh man.” He closed his eyes and winced. “It all went down before I even knew it. All I could was run. I was so freaking scared.”

  Stanley sunk back against a wall. “I am not believing this.”

  “You got the blame, cuz,” Marty said. “That absolutely killed me. Stanley, I’m so sorry. But what was I supposed to do?”

  Deborah answered for her husband. “You should be ashamed! That’s what you should do! Do you see the mess you’ve caused? All you men are no good. Not a single one of you.”

  For some reason, Mr. X thought that was funny and grinned. “I’d like to think that some men excel at what they do. Take me, for instance. I always get what I want. And what I want right now is a bullet through the head of this loser right here so he’ll shut up with the excuses.” He aimed his gun at Marty.

  But was interrupted by a rapping on the door.

  “What the hell?” Mr. X said. “Every time I turn around, there are more damn people.”

  I looked toward Celeste, who shrugged. Who could it be now? At least it might distract these guys and give Marge a chance to pull out The Persuader if she had it with her.

  The rapping came again, accompanied by a shout. “Police! Open up!”

  Thank goodness. For once, I was glad to have them join us. We needed help and fast.

  When the huge guys turned toward the door in a panic, our instincts kicked in quickly. Like units of a smooth machine, the Cs and M of CMC all knew just what to do. It was a gift – that moment when our captors let their defenses down. We each lunged at a guy, trying to get ahold of their guns. Or at least point them in another direction.

  Were we heroic? Or just stupid?

  As I looked wildly around the room (So many ways to die! So many people who could kill me!), I saw Marty push a window open. It was on the wall opposite the door – a two-story drop below. While still keeping a close eye on Mr. Wrestling, I looked just long enough to see Marty jump, then Stanley. At least they were free, although maybe injured from the fall. Deborah glued herself to the wall.

  We three, on the other hand, might well be dead in only seconds. The wrestler-looking guy threw me off him and wheeled around in fury, coming at me with his gun. He was between me and the door. There was nowhere to go but through the open window.

  In a cat movement, I leaped out the window and landed on a small roof. Unfortunately, I could hear the guy scramble out behind me. Damn. He was close enough to touch me. I had no choice but to jump just as I heard the front door breaking.

  I landed hard on my left knee, and my right hand ached from taking on too much of my weight as I braced against the fall. But I didn’t care about the pain. My goal was just to live. I prayed that Marge and Celeste wouldn’t get hurt.

  My glasses slipped off my sweaty nose to the muddy ground below. I picked them up and wiped them on my shirt. I hid just in time behind a pile of dirty cardboard boxes and garbage bags which smelled of old and rotting rubbish as Mr. Wrestling also jumped and took off.

  I peeped around the pile and wildly glanced around. I heard a thud. Then another. Then someone aching. I recognized Marge. My partners also jumped. Hurray, they were safe. For now. I started to come out of my hiding, but Celeste and Marge started running for a stand of overgrown, br
ambly kind of bushes.

  Not a second later, I heard voices nearing me but I couldn’t make anything out. Was it the good guys or the bad guys? The voices stopped. They seemed to have moved on to somewhere else. The side of the motel perhaps? This was my chance to run. With no time to think too hard about it, I ran toward the bushes where I knew my friends were hiding.

  Soon I was crouched beside them. They looked at me with relief. Marge gave me a thumbs up. Beside her was her opened purse and – yes! – a familiar glint was winking from the top of the overstuffed pile inside. The Persuader was present and on duty.

  Although we were breathing hard, we tried not to make a sound to give ourselves away. I glanced over at my friends, who looked as terrified as me. The wind picked up and brought with it the scent of all the trash that long-ago guests, most likely over months and months, had tossed outside their windows.

  We could hear scuffles and then yells. One by one, Celeste’s head, then Marge’s, and then mine, popped up over the hedges. We raised our heads just high enough to try to catch a glimpse of what might be going on. What we saw wasn’t good.

  The biggest of the goons was standing just beyond us with his gun pointed at Stanley and Marty. Damn. Where were the slowpoke cops? Did we have to do it all?

  Without saying anything, Marge was off. I watched her slowly creep up behind the captor and his victims, pulling out Mrs. P. When she spoke, it was the other Marge, the one who roared instead of squeaking. “Put your gun down, fool. Or I’ll blow your stupid brains out.”

  I looked at Celeste, who nodded. We moved out from behind the bushes just as the huge dude dropped his gun. Quick as a wink, I grabbed it. Hey, maybe I would live. Although, Mr. X and his other friend might still be around. They might show up anytime with guns pointed at our faces.

  Just when I was about to say something, cops seemed to come from everywhere, bursting around both sides of the building, all with their guns drawn. I quickly dropped the gun and Marge, as fast as she could, slipped hers into her purse.

  Finally, I could breathe. Now that I knew we’d be safe, I longed to be alone. I felt that any second I’d dissolve into a fit of tears not befitting my profession.

  Was there some course that we could take? How to Safely Jump out of a Window When You’re Being Chased by Thugs? They don’t teach those things in regular school. They teach so many useless things, and algebra won’t help you when there’s a criminal at your heels.

  I watched with satisfaction (and relief!) as one cop handcuffed Mr. Wrestling. Two others roughly took his arms and lead him around the building. The whole police force seemed to be on the scene, walking the edges of the property. Standing next to one cop was a confused-looking older man, who must have been the manager of the motel.

  The sense of urgency seemed to have passed now; Mr. X and pirate man must have been in custody as well. I thought about Deborah and hoped she was safe.

  I was looking to find a cop to ask when I felt someone touch my shoulder. When I turned and saw Alex, I noticed the relief that filled my heart. Instead of scolding me for once again finding my way into mortal danger, he took me in his arms. With my head pressed against the clean, familiar smell of his shirt and his hair, the tears came at last. But not loud sobs, thank goodness.

  “Charlie Cooper,” Alex said when I finally pulled away. “Why am I not surprised?”

  His tone wasn’t angry. Or sarcastic. It was gentle; it was soft. It made me want to melt.

  He touched my hair and softly stroked it. “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me those guys didn’t hurt you.”

  Still shaking, I moved closer to him. “Aside from scaring me half to death,” I said, “they left me safe and sound.”

  He put an arm around my shoulder. “Breathe easy; it’s all good now. They’re all in custody. Stanley Bickford too. And also Stanley’s cousin. Crazy times in Springston.”

  I felt a stab of pain when I thought about Marty. Then I thought of Aurora and all those children with their shy grins and eager voices.

  Marge appeared by our side. “How’s it going, Alex? Hasn’t this been quite the day?” She had recovered enough, it seemed, to be enthralled with the excitement of it all: the surprising twists and daring escapades as a case suddenly moved forward toward a final resolution. It was just the kind of thing she loved. I’d have to tell her I’d been wrong. Sometimes real life was as crazy as her beloved CSI.

  She watched the police activity, seemingly still caught up in it all. She rubbed her leg and looked at me. “Hon, I don’t think I’ll be riding that exercise bike so soon. I seem to have hurt my leg.”

  Another cop approached us. Something about him looked familiar, but my mind was still a mess. He took my hand to shake it, then Marge’s. He grinned. “Good work, Roberts. Excellent! And you too, Robertson. Stellar, stellar work.”

  Oh-my-God!

  Marge looked proud. “We’re just glad it ended well.”

  The cop nodded and moved off when he was summoned by a colleague.

  “Robertson? And Roberts?” Alex asked confused.

  Marge giggled. “That was crazy, right? Who did he think we were?”

  Someone called to Alex.

  “Hey, you two, I’ve got to go,” he said. “If I leave the two of you alone, will you stay out of trouble?” He grinned.

  “We’re too tired for trouble,” I said. “I just want to take a nap.”

  As he headed off, Marge linked her arm through mine. “Roberts and Robertson. They should get a medal, don’t you think?”

  I limped along beside her. “Absolutely. And perhaps a cookie too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next day at Jack’s, I stole a fry from Marge’s plate. She had splurged and ordered extra cheese and bacon.

  “Hon, you can afford your own fries now,” Marge said, batting my hand away. “These three businesswomen are about to have a payday.”

  Thank you, universe! I made a mental shopping list. I wanted to buy some music albums for when I would start exercising. A new bedspread would also be nice. Losing the pink striped comforter might make me feel less like I was stuck back in my high school days. But mostly, I wanted to save; I wanted my own place.

  I felt an ache in my left toe and added comfy, cushioned shoes to my list of must-haves now that the check was coming. This job meant lots of running!

  Thoughts of finding some other kind of work had been forgotten with a good night’s rest. It felt good to be a part of solving a huge case. I was great at this. Kind of. It was a brand new feeling and I liked it: to absolutely rock – not just at writing up reports, but at a job that put me right there in the action.

  If not for CMC, the case might still be wide open. Mr. X might have been long gone when the cops arrived – and that bag of money would have disappeared.

  Marge leaned back against her seat. “Every single part of me is aching. Muscles I didn’t know I had are saying Hello, Marge and begging me to take an aspirin.”

  “I’ve never been so beat,” Celeste said as she picked up her coffee mug. “I slept nine hours straight, and I could still use a nap.”

  “Oh my gosh, those guns,” I said. “I thought we’d die for sure.” On each of our three cases, I’d thought that I would die.

  “The looks on those guys’ faces!” Celeste said. “That one with the bandanna? That guy looked so pissed off the whole time. I was afraid he might come at me if I even sneezed too hard.”

  “The worst part was the jumping.” Marge bit into her cheeseburger. “I looked down and got dizzy. Still, what else could we do?”

  “I can’t believe we jumped,” I said. “That one guy was right behind me on the ledge. Plus, the smell behind the motel! It was bad enough to jump that far with those giants after us. Then we have to go and land by these heaping piles of garbage.”

  “Yeah,” Marge said. “Do they never take the trash out? What’s the deal with that?”

  Celeste held her hand up to give us both high fives. “Another wi
n for CMC. That one was a challenge. Great work, both of you.”

  “You too, Celeste,” I said. I shifted in my seat to extend my leg a little, hoping to ease the constant pain that was shooting through my calf. Alex had encouraged us to get checked out at the hospital, but I had just wanted to go home.

  Jack’s was quiet as we finished our late lunch. Waitresses gathered at the counter to trade gossip from the day as a small number of scattered diners lingered over coffee or dessert.

  “We’ve earned a few days off,” Marge said. “What do you want to do? A movie marathon? I think there’s some kind of festival this week.”

  I rolled my eyes. “There’s always a festival in Springston.” Ever since I could remember, there’d been some kind of celebration almost every single week.

  “It’s a good one this time,” Celeste said with a smile. “It’s the lobster festival. A lobster eating contest, and that cute parade where all the kids dress up like creatures from the sea. If you’ve never seen it, you absolutely have to go.”

  Lobster eating contest. Ha. I knew who would not be there.

  “We could spend time by the water,” I said. “We could just walk and hang out and read some magazines.”

  “We could invite your mom,” Marge said. “She could bring the drinks!” She paused and for a moment seemed caught up in some daydream. “I think that I might like to try a new drink every day,” she squeaked. “You should do that, Charlie, since you live with a pro.”

  “A drink every day? How long until I land in rehab?”

  “You two can hang, because on second thought, I just want to sleep,” Celeste said. “Then we should stock up on supplies. I think we’ve learned some lessons on what to keep on hand.”

  I poured more cream into my coffee. “I still can’t believe it was Marty all along. Marty! Of all people.”

  “I feel sorry for the guy,” Celeste said.

  “I feel sorry for Aurora,” Marge chimed in. “She looked worn out as it was, even when she had a husband there to help with all those kids. I wonder how long they’ll keep him locked up.”