Too Easy (A Flap Tucker Mystery Book 2)

by Phillip DePoy

  Maytag came over to me. “I’m glad you remembered us tellin’ you about Ida’s little adventure. Wanna see the angel?”

  “Sure.” Why not, you know? Part of the Tao thing is letting it all happen around you.

  They took us to a newer part of the yard. It was still dark, but you could see the angel. It almost had a glow, a kind of eerie light.

  Maytag leaned over to it. “That moss or lichen that’s on it? It’s got a kind of a phosphorescence makes it seem kinda like it’s glowin’ a little, don’t it?”

  Peachy was a little anxious. “This place gives me the chill bumps. Could we go to a Waffle House or somethin’?”

  Maytag looked at me. “We got some talkin’ to do.”

  I agreed. “Yes, we do.”

  Dally cleared her throat. “Waffle House?”

  Peachy shrugged. “Or someplace good. Don’t matter. Denny’s?”

  Dally rolled her eyes. “That’s right, boys. Let’s go to a well-lit all-night eatery that’s a known cop hangout. None of the three of you are supposed to be in town, remember? Plus, two out of three are supposed to be in jail for murder.”

  Maytag agreed. “Got a point. Where do we go, then?”

  Dally smiled. “Too Easy.”

  27 - The Trouble with Mechanics

  We started on our way back to Dally’s new nightclub. I decided I had to go by my car, to get the stuff out and bring it in with me. The boys went on ahead with the key. Dally didn’t like them being seen out in plain sight — not with all of us together, especially — but she was impatient. She didn’t know why I had to go to the car.

  I had facts on my side. “Over fifty percent of all crimes committed in Savannah involve some bum busting in a guy’s driver-side window and removing his goods from a car.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like anybody’s gonna want your crummy stuff.”

  We sidled up to the vehicle in question. Dally stood on the rider’s side, arms folded, tapping her foot like Krupa.

  I shoved myself around to the driver’s side. There they were. The unmistakable legs of that magic mechanic, Ronnie Tibadeau. He was in evidence, but very still, like I’d seen him before.

  “What’s up under there now, Ron — more surveillance equipment?”

  Dally was confused. “Huh?”

  Ronnie, he didn’t say a word. In fact he was a whole bunch of stillness. I nudged his leg with my foot. It flopped.

  Now she was irritated. “What’re you doin’, Flap?”

  I looked up at her. “Uh, hon, we got us a kind of situation here.”

  “In what way?”

  “Remember I told you about that kid from Tifton named Ronnie Tibadeau, the one who fixed my heap?”

  “So?”

  I leaned on the car. I was thinking maybe I could just push old Ronnie’s legs up under and pretend he wasn’t there; drive away unnoticed. “Well, don’t panic or anything,” I looked down at the ever-so-still pair of legs, “but I think this is him that’s dead under my car, here.”

  She looked for a second like it was some kind of bad joke. Then her head jabbed over to the left and down. When she was facing me again, her eyes were wide. “What have you done?”

  “Me? I didn’t do a thing.”

  I leaned over, took hold of the ankles, and withdrew the body whence it reposed.

  Dally came slowly around the car.

  I tightened my lips. “Yup. That’s him all right. His head didn’t used to be all stove in like that — not when I saw him last. But that’s the boy. He’s great with cars.”

  “Pull him on out.”

  “Love to. Take a look at his right hand.”

  She didn’t want to, but she peeped. His right hand was handcuffed to the chassis. She straightened up. “Well, this has got to be a bit of bad news.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “For this? I got no plan. What can I do? Those are real handcuffs. You can’t pick ’em or saw ’em without a whole lot more effort than we got time for out in the open like this — in an area that’s heavily patrolled.”

  Her face was pale but she tried for tough. “And what do we do about this, then, Braniac?”

  I leaned over. “We sweep him under the rug right now — come back later.” And I started stuffing him back under the car.

  She didn’t watch. “This is so very much not good.”

  “Yeah. And it’s not even your car.”

  She was not remotely amused. “Well, hurry up.” And she headed for the club.

  I watched her walk away. “Be right there.”

  I stayed behind to tidy up. Kind of a mistake, in retrospect.

  28 - Ronnie’s Pals

  I got down on my hands and knees, always a bad idea in any circumstance, and started shoving parts of Ronnie up under the car. I was not happy to hear voices coming my way, and less so when two big old boys stopped to pass the time of night.

  “Whatcha got there, mister?”

  I tried to block the view. “Just fixing a little mechanical problem with the old auto.”

  “I don’ think so.”

  “Really?” I craned my neck to see them.

  They were fat like wrestlers, packed tight. One was in a tank top far as I could tell in the bad light, and the other was in a kind of sharkskin suit. The suit was talking. “Who’s that you’re playin’ with down there?”

  “He’s my mechanic.”

  Tank Top shook his head. “Naw it ain’t. Thas’ Ronnie Tibadeau. Or used to be, rather.”

  Great. “You boys know Ronnie?”

  Suit smiled. “Somebody sent us over. Said he was in trouble. Looks like it was a little more than he could handle.”

  Tank Top: “But we’re big boys.” Big smile to match. “And we’re used to trouble.”

  I straightened up. “Look, guys — he was like this when I got here.”

  Suit didn’t buy. “Uh-huh.”

  Tank Top took a step closer.

  I put my hand on the car door handle with a rushing sense of déjà vu. “Honest, boys. Somebody else put Ronnie up under there. Me and him, we’re pals, see?” Big smile back.

  No dice. Tank Top headed my way. “Sure.”

  I whipped open the car door. It’d worked before.

  Tank Top heaved up his enormous leg, kicked my car door toward me with a boot big enough to have dinner off of — which might have been his plan for me anyway. The car door made a noise like a battleship going down, and hit me hard over nine tenths of my body. I flew east, then dropped south, all the way to the ground. Suit had somehow levitated to my side and was kicking me in the ribs with some kind of pointy Beatle-boot-looking numbers. Tank Top was laughing hard. All I could do was roll.

  After a minute or so they got tired, and I sat up. “Okay. What now?”

  Suit had to think. “We tie you up to Ronnie Tibadeau and go for a little drive?”

  I shook my head. “Oh, let’s not. Ronnie’s had a pretty hard day, from the look of it.” I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t remember how.

  Tank Top had an idea. “Let’s just take him back to the man and go. I got a party.”

  I had to ask. “The man?”

  Tank Top didn’t mind answering. “Told us where to find you.”

  Who’d have known where to find me?

  They hoisted me up and started me off down the street. I wasn’t much help. I couldn’t remember how to walk either.

  It was an uneventful stroll under the streetlamps. We turned in at a darkened bed-and-breakfast, up the walk, around the porch to a side entrance, and into a small backroom. It was quite well appointed. I threw myself into a very nice Queen Anne.

  But the man wasn’t there — the guy who’d set these two tops spinning my way. Suit was only mildly irritated, but Tank Top seemed downright uncomfortable.

  “I ain’t waitin’ for him. I gotta go, man. I need a little help. You see what I mean.”

  Anybody who’d ever seen a junkie wi
thout a bag would have known what he meant.

  Suit was less than sympathetic. “Your own fault, bud. You need to be clean like me.”

  “I need to be clean like your mother.”

  Suit spoke calmly. “If you talk about our mother that way, I have to cut you, so shut up, okay? It’s disrespectful.” Then he approached me. “Our host, he’s not in at the moment.”

  I tried. “So who is our host?”

  “Our host must remain ... anonymous.”

  For one icy second I had a shot of the big fear. The dark forces collided and extinguished every bit of light. I suddenly was afraid that our host was the guy named Lenny that I used to know. I may have mentioned him once or twice — and he was still out there in the darkness ... somewhere.

  I tried to sound cool. “Is it Lenny?”

  He was clearly ignorant. “Who?”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” You just don’t know.

  “The guy that sent us on our little errand is a bad man. He straddles good and evil.”

  Tank Top had recovered enough to respond. “I hate that kinda talk.” He looked right at me. “He reads all these books and it makes him talk ... funny.”

  In another light I suppose it could have been a little humorous. So I made bold to ask. “What are you reading?”

  “Right now?” Suit put on his thinking cap — to all appearances a seldom-used accessory — and found the answer. “It’s about two sisters.”

  Tank Top was suddenly all kid. “Tell it again.”

  Without a second of hesitation, like a hood relating the details of a caper, Suit began to tell me and his bro a tale about two sisters and a magic doll.

  29 - The Magic Doll

  And Suit’s story went as follows:

  *

  In a little village by the sea, not so very long ago, there lived two sisters. Their father was a rich sea captain, but his ship had been lost, with all hands, in Baffin Bay, where the whale fishes blow. When they heard this terrible news, the two girls began to grow in a contrary manner. As one grew bright as the sun, so sad as winter grew the other. Veronica became more graceful with each passing day. Susan was filled sorrow.

  Now, on the southern-most end of this same coast, in a dense forest never visited by townsfolk or sailors, there lived the mighty witch that everyone called the Sea Hag. She was two hundred years old and had practiced her profession for most of her life. It was widely known that she ate lightning for dinner, and that her snoring could be heard as thunder on a stormy night. She was nearly six feet tall, but so stooped and twisted that her chin nearly scraped the floor when she walked. Her laughter was the sound of peacocks screaming.

  So, in the dark and rainy season, in the autumn of the year, there came up a strong wind. It blew all the candles in the house out. On that night Blackeyed Susan grabbed her sister by the arm. “Look what’s happened. All the candles have gone out. What will we do? We’ll never have light in this house again. It’s dark as the grave.”

  Veronica strained to see in the darkness. “Can’t we just relight the candles?”

  Susan was terrified. “No! That would bring down the wrath of the Sea Hag on this house!”

  Veronica shivered. “The Sea Hag? What’s she got to do with it?”

  Susan squinted in the dim room. “She’s the mistress of the darkness. Once you’ve let all the light in your house go out, you have to consult the Sea Hag and beg her for light. If you don’t, her revenge will be swift and terrible. She’ll burn your house. She’ll char your bones. She’ll fill your land with salt water. And it’s all our fault. Imagine what Father would say! You have to go to the Sea Hag and beg her to let us have more light.”

  Veronica was terrified. The girls had heard the tales of the Sea Hag all their lives, and knew that no one who had gone in search of her had ever returned. With their father gone to sea, they had no one to turn to in their bitter hour — except the one thing Veronica’s father had given her before he left: a tiny wooden doll. The doll was as beautiful as it was strange, and Veronica had always had a feeling of closeness to the doll that she could not explain.

  So, that dark night, sobbing, armed only with the doll, the young girl felt her way out of the house and through forbidding undergrowth into the black forest, toward the home of the Sea Hag.

  And as she went, she told her troubles to the little doll. “I’m very frightened, and I know I may never see my home or my father or my sister again.”

  Much to her amazement, for it had never done so before, the doll spoke back. “Do not fear. Keep me hidden away safe in your pocket and no harm will come to you. I will help.”

  Encouraged by the brave words, Veronica pushed on in her journey all the next day until she came to a clearing, and there it was: the fabled home of the Sea Hag.

  Suddenly there was a great swooping noise like a giant bat, and in rode the Sea Hag. “I thought I smelled the blood of a human.” She sniffed. “Come out now or I’ll char your bones!”

  Trembling like a leaf, Veronica stepped out of the shadows.

  The Sea Hag grinned, toothless and without mercy. “Ah, a little girl. Come in, child. Come in. You’re too skinny to eat, and besides, I’ve just had a stingray stew ... I think I’ll go to bed now and eat you when I wake up. Unless ...”

  Veronica summoned all her courage. “... unless what?”

  The witch was quick to answer. “Sweep and clean my house so it shines like the moon, and prepare me a meal before I awake, and maybe I won’t eat you.”

  Veronica’s courage grew. “I’m no stranger to hard work. This sounds easy.”

  Angered, the Sea Hag lashed out. “Then in addition: Out on the beach there are over one hundred great fish that I’ve scared ashore. Gather them up, clean them all, and cook them down — and I may let you live another day.”

  So saying, the witch went to bed, leaving the poor girl staring toward the beach.

  In despair, Veronica poured out her predicament to the doll. “I’ll never be able to do all this work before she wakes up.”

  “Never fear,” said the doll. “Lie you down and rest. I’ll do the work.”

  Exhausted from fear and her long journey, the girl fell into an eerie, deep slumber. When she awoke the next dawn, she found that her little companion had done every one of the tasks the Sea Hag had commanded: The house was swept, the meal was cooked, and all the fish were prepared.

  The girl jumped up, kissed the magic doll, tucked it safely into her pocket, and stood beside the table where the witch’s meal was set. Veronica was bright as a new penny.

  The Sea Hag lumbered into the room. “Is everything done?” She cast her cloudy eye about the place. “What? Not a speck of dust and all these fish cooked down?” The Hag squinted. “Well, I won’t eat you today. I’ve got evil work to do. I’ll be away from the house all day. But when I come back, you must have done an even harder task than the one you seem to have accomplished already.”

  Veronica only smiled. “I’m equal to any task.”

  The Hag nodded. “Is that so? In the back of the house there are fifty barrels of corn that I’ve stolen from farmers. Grind it all, and have the meal piled neatly, and use some to make my corn bread — and I might not use your bones to mend my fence!”

  So saying, the Sea Hag swallowed her morning meal in one gulp and lifted off the ground and out the window without another word.

  Once again, Veronica consulted her wooden companion. “Shall I begin to grind the corn?”

  The doll whispered, “No. I will do the work.”

  Veronica stared at her helpmate. “Who are you? What are you?”

  The magic doll’s voice rose in the dusty air. “I am the power of strangeness. You must never be without me. But you must wait and watch for the time when you do the work for yourself. Now, go out and watch the sea.”

  So Veronica went to the edge of the sea — which she loved — and watched the waves rise and fall, as if in a hypnotic trance.

  Just as th
e spell of the sunset on the sea was broken, the Sea Hag swooped in over her head and plowed into the sand just beside her.

  “Daydreaming? Well, let’s see how much of my work you’ve done.”

  Veronica ran ahead of the witch, threw open the door, and grabbed the magic doll just before the Hag came in behind her.

  There, neatly in the corner, were the bags of corn-meal. And still steaming on the table was a lovely golden corn-bread cake.

  The Hag swirled around the room and then leered weirdly at Veronica. “Girl, you vex me! I’ve given you tasks no human could perform, and you’ve done them.”

  Veronica smiled. “Any task is easy when your heart is light.”

  The Hag looked away. “I wouldn’t know about that. But I have one final test that no one has ever passed. It is a task you must accomplish while I am here in the room with you.”

  Veronica suddenly clenched the wooden doll. How could she use its wondrous power with the Sea Hag watching? Then she remembered the doll’s words — she must face this task alone. She took in a very deep breath. “What is the final task?”

  The Sea Hag grinned. It was a hideous sight, black teeth, green tongue, cracked blue lips. “You must kiss me!”

  Veronica saw the sorrow and the pain on the face of the witch, and suddenly felt such sympathy and loving kindness that she was drawn to the old woman. She threw her arms around the withered neck and kissed the Sea Hag — not once, nor even twice, but three times, and so gently that a salty tear formed in the corner of the sad old woman’s eye. Suddenly the whole room was filled with a kind of golden light. The last light of the day, perhaps. For the first time in one hundred years the Sea Hag drew herself to her full height — and smiled serenely.

  The old face seemed to grow younger and stronger, and the voice was full and clear. “Your magic is great.”

  Veronica stood in wonder at the transformation of the Hag, still clutching the wooden doll. “I have no magic — none of my own.”

  The Hag nodded. “Why did you come here? Tell me now.”

  Veronica answered right away, without a hint of fear. “My sister is filled with sorrow and I caused all the light in our house to go out. I had to come and get permission from you to have more light in our house.”