by Nic Saint
“Oh, no, you don’t!” the Mayor had screamed, shaking his fist at the unknown vandal or vandals who’d done this terrible deed. “I’ll get you for this!”
And so he’d called Curtis Whitehouse, and now stood waiting until the police force came out en masse to catch whoever was responsible for this heinous act. An attack against Mayor Aldrich was an attack against the sitting mayor—an attack against this town!
More people now came walking up, and all stood gazing at the strange spectacle.
“I don’t like this, Mr. Mayor,” said Mrs. Evergreen. “It just seems... wrong.”
“I didn’t do this,” he explained. “Do you think I did this? I would never do this.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Ted,” said Caroline Loosely. She made the sign of the cross. “It’s a terrible sin to mock the dead. An absolute disgrace.”
“I didn’t do this!” he cried. “I did not do this!”
People were so unreasonable. And they never took a moment to apprise themselves of the facts before jumping to conclusions. He blamed it on social media. Oh, yes. Social media had made people dumber and nastier. Much dumber and much nastier.
Finally, sirens could be heard, his fine, fine police force finally moving in.
The first cop car arrived, carrying two cops he’d never seen before. That was okay. The Mayor couldn’t be expected to know every single cop on the town’s payroll.
“Take him down from there at once,” said the Mayor. “At once, you hear me!”
The biggest cop scratched his scalp. He didn’t look like the sharpest tool in the shed. “I’m afraid we can’t do that,” he said. “We have to dust for fingerprints and such. Preserve the crime scene, you know.”
“Yeah,” said his colleague, a scrawny fellow with a face like a ferret. “Yeah, we have to leave him up there high and dry for at least a couple of hours, Mr. Mayor. Can’t mess with that good old crime scene, you know. I mean, you watch CSI. You know the drill.”
“I don’t care a hoot about the crime scene!” cried the Mayor, apoplectic. “Get him down! Right now! Or else I’ll have your badges!”
“Righto,” said the scrawny one. “Johnny? A hand, please?”
And to the Mayor’s satisfaction both cops pulled down the dead man, who seemed frozen solid from the looks of things, and carried him over to the police van, dumped him inside and slammed the door shut.
“Thank you!” the Mayor cried in extreme gratitude.
“No worries,” said the big one. And then they both got into the van and drove off.
“You fine fellas are a credit to Happy Bays—both of you!” he shouted after them.
More police sirens filled the air, and more cop cars came zooming up, surrounding the small square from all sides.
“I still think it’s a damn shame you did this, Mr. Mayor,” said Jack Patel, another one of his constituents. “Politicians think they can get away with everything but that’s where they’re wrong. Next election I’ll have to go with the other guy or gal.”
“You pick whoever you like,” said the Mayor, his mood having improved now that the dead body was finally gone from his town square.
Chief Whitehouse emerged from the first cop car and waddled over.
“Your men took him away,” he said.
“My men?” asked the Chief. “What men?”
“Um... I’m not sure, um… One was big, the other small with a face like a rodent. Oh, and I think one of them was called Johnny. And he was sucking a lollipop. Bit odd for a cop, huh?” He laughed lightly, the crisis averted and everything finally back to normal.
The chief stared at him dumbly. “When was this?”
“Oh, five minutes ago? Just before you arrived?”
“Mr. Mayor, I set out the moment I got your call. Whoever those men were? They don’t work for me. Or you, for that matter.”
The mayor opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Mabel Stokely, his loyal secretary, had joined them. She was giving him a close look. Ever since his wife had told her about his blood pressure, she was always giving him looks. As if fully expecting him to have an aneurysm. “I think we’ve been duped, Ted,” she said.
She said ‘we’ but what she really meant was ‘you.’
“Those men were probably the same men who put that body up there in the first place.”
He felt a big, mighty roar of frustration rising up in his chest. He couldn’t help it. His self-control was at a low ebb. So he raised his fist skyward, and screamed, “Bastards!”
From the window of his office on the second floor, Moe echoed “Bastards!”
Chapter 23
Sadly enough, by the time Fee and the others got to Town Hall, the show was over. The pictures had been posted on what now appeared to be the official Instagram page for the miscreants behind this dead body thing and had been reposted by hundreds more. Town Square was teeming with people, with the Chief’s officers interviewing people left and right, and reporters interviewing those same people the moment their police interview was over.
They managed to worm their way through the crowd and finally reached Chief Whitehouse, who stood convening with Mabel Stokely, Fee’s aunt Bettina, and... Marjorie.
“Virgil,” said the latter, directing a disapproving glance at her son. “I had expected to see you here sooner.”
“Virgil was on an assignment across town, Mrs. Scattering,” said the Chief, coming to his detective’s defense once more. “A very important assignment, too. Personally sent by me.”
Marjorie seemed slightly mollified by this. She was a rail-thin woman with hair the color of puke and worked as a librarian at the local library.
“So what happened?” asked Fee.
“They came and then they went,” said Mabel, raising a hand to indicate the statue, which was now back to its previous pristine state.
“But... how did they manage to remove the body?”
“They tricked the Mayor,” said Mabel with a smile. “Pretended to be cops. So he convinced them to take down the body, even though they told him they shouldn’t, and then they drove off with it.”
“What did they look like, these so-called cops?” asked Alice. She seemed to have an idea, judging from the look of determination on her face.
“One was large, the other small. I saw them myself,” said Mabel.
“And you didn’t recognize them?”
Mabel gave her a look of surprise. “Should I have?”
“Oh, yes,” said Alice, and held up a picture.
Mabel leaned in and frowned. “I don’t have my reading glasses,” she muttered, and leaned in even more. Then her face lit up. “That’s them! How did you know?”
She showed the picture to Fee and the others, her expression grim.
“That’s Johnny and Jerry!” Fee cried.
“I knew it,” said Rick, shaking his head.
“Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale,” said Marjorie. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Do they still work for your dad, Rick?” asked Bettina.
“Oh, yes, they do.”
“But why? Why would your dad play a sick game like that?”
“To rile people up, maybe?” said Marjorie now. “Especially the dead man’s father?”
“Mom,” said Virgil. “I think you just might have hit the nail on the head.”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Marjorie with a disapproving glance at her son.
Virgil looked a little feverish. His eyes were red, his face flushed, and he looked like he was coming down with something. All in all, he wasn’t in the best shape of his life.
“So Johnny and Jerry are at it again, huh?” said the Chief. “Do you think they’re the ones that knocked out Farmer Fred?”
“That sounds like something they would do,” said Rick grimly.
Once upon a time they’d knocked out Rick himself, so they could steal his laptop on Chazz’s behalf. Back then, Rick and his dad hadn’t gott
en along all that well, and Rick had been writing a scathing exposé on his dad. These days their relationship was mostly cordial.
“We just paid a visit to Chazz,” said Fee. “He practically admitted his involvement.”
“But why?” asked Bettina. “It makes no sense!”
“All he said was that we should go to Heike Grabarski’s birthday party tonight.”
“Today seems to be all about the Grabarskis,” said the Chief. “First this whole body moving thing, and I’ve been hearing complaints about Gertrude Grabarski making a nuisance of herself with some of our local business owners. She slapped Ethan Hussey over at the BMW dealership because she claims he sold her car to someone else, while Ethan swears he sold her car to her. She made a stink to Demetria because Bancroft forgot about her appointment over at Revolution Cool even though Bancroft swears up and down he gave her two hours of his time and did the best job ever, and she filed an official complaint against Petra Pearce, claiming she gave her Maltipoo Apple to another woman even as—”
“Petra swears up and down she gave the doggie to the right owner?” Fee guessed.
“Exactly.”
“Sounds like someone is playing a trick on Gertrude,” said Fee.
“And getting away with it,” Alice added.
“She even kicked a woman in the shin because she sold her Jimmy shoes to someone else,” said the Chief, shaking his head at so much buffoonery.
“Jimmy Choo, not shoe,” said Mabel. “It’s the name of the brand,” she added when the Chief stared at her in bewilderment.
“Gertrude was in the bakery just before, too,” said Bettina. “I served her myself. Can you believe she had the gall to cancel her brother’s birthday cake at the last minute? And Achilles worked so hard on that cake.”
“Look, who cares about cakes and shoes and BMWs?” said Alice. “We need to figure out what’s going on with this body moving business.”
“And get my badge back,” said Virgil moodily.
Marjorie gave him a censorious look. “You lost your badge?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Virgil, suddenly aware of his faux-pas.
“Show it to me.”
“What?”
“If you didn’t lose it—show it to me.”
“But…”
“Show me your badge, Virgil!”
His shoulders slumped. “I lost it.”
“Virgil!”
“He can always get another one, Mrs. Scattering,” said the Chief. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal for me. What did I tell you about losing stuff?”
“Um, not to do it?”
“Exactly! You should be more careful with your things.”
“I will, Mom,” he said with an eyeroll.
“I saw that,” she snapped. “My apologies, Chief Whitehouse,” she said.
“It’s fine, Marjorie. Like I said, we’ll just get him another one.”
“Would that it were so simple,” Virgil muttered.
Alice patted his back. “You heard Chazz. He’ll try and get your badge back for you.”
Virgil muttered a scoffing sound. “From Johnny and Jerry? Good luck with that. They’ll probably sell it on eBay. Or the dark web.”
“Ha ha,” said Reece, laughing heartily. “The dark web. I like that.”
“Those two crooks have your badge?” asked Marjorie, her voice rising in pitch. “How did that happen?” When no one answered, she directed a scathing look at her present company. “You all knew about this? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t know anything about a missing badge,” said Mabel.
“Me neither,” said Bettina. “But I’m intrigued. What’s going on, exactly?”
“Here we go,” Rick muttered.
“Better tell them,” said Virgil finally.
And so they did. Taking turns, Alice and Fee told the story and told it well. And when they’d finished, Marjorie was simmering gently, and Mabel and Bettina looked worried.
“This is not good, Virgil,” said Bettina. “Messing with a mobster is a recipe for disaster.”
“So you see?” said Alice. “We need to find out what Chazz’s game is.”
“Personally I think we should focus on Deanna,” said Rick. “It’s not like Chazz to go rogue like this. Unless he stands to make a lot of money. And from what Virgil told us Deanna is not a wealthy woman, so that can’t be it.”
They all stood there, letting things sink in, then Marjorie said, “There’s only one thing to be done. Virgil, will you tell the Chief or do I have to do it for you?”
Virgil stared at his mother. “Tell him what?”
“Fine,” said Marjorie, and pressed her lips together as she turned to the Chief. “Chief Whitehouse. Please arrest my son for conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice and the willful destruction of evidence.”
Chapter 24
“That’s entirely unnecessary!” said the Chief.
“Are you crazy?” Mabel said, not mincing her words.
“But I don’t want to be arrested!” cried Virgil.
“You silly old bat,” said Bettina, shaking her head.
“Virgil committed a crime, he should do the time,” said Marjorie stubbornly.
“Virgil just wanted to help an old friend,” said Alice. “He did what he thought was right.”
“He helped cover up a crime! How could anyone possibly think that’s right?!”
“The dead man was a mobster,” said Fee, just putting it out there. “A mobster,” she repeated.
“I don’t care,” said Marjorie, “if the man was Adolf Hitler or Jeffrey Dahmer! You don’t go around killing people just because you feel like it. Where would we be if everybody did that? Chaos! Anarchy!” She tapped the Chief’s chest. “You of all people should know that no one takes the law into their own hands. Now will you or will you not arrest my son?”
“I will not,” said the Chief, who could be as stubborn as Marjorie.
“Then I will,” said Marjorie, implacable. She placed her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Virgil Scattering, I’m arresting you for being an accomplice in the murder of... this mobster man.”
Reece giggled. “I thought you said lobster man.”
“Not funny, Reece,” said Alice.
“You can’t arrest me, Mom,” Virgil said. “You’re not a cop.”
“It’s called a citizen’s arrest,” said Marjorie. “Now is anybody going to back me up on this?”
When no one spoke, Virgil said, “I’ll come with you, Mom.”
“Thanks, Virgil.”
“You’re welcome.”
Marjorie took a firm hold of her son’s arm and glanced around. “Which way to the police station?”
“Just follow me,” said Virgil, and together they walked off.
“Now this must be the single most weirdest crap I’ve ever witnessed in thirty years of being a cop,” said Chief Whitehouse, scratching his scalp.
Alice patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, Dad. No one is going to want to lock Virgil up in jail, no matter what his mother says.”
“We still have to find that badge of his,” said Fee.
“What we need to do is find Deanna, before Grabarski finds her,” said Rick.
“What do you mean?”
“If we managed to figure out who’s behind the death of his son, Eddy Grabarski won’t have a problem putting two and two together as well. And when he finds Deanna it won’t be for a nice little fireside chat.”
“He’s going to kill her,” said Alice, nodding.
“So now we’re on a mission to find and protect Deanna Kohl?” asked Reece. “Just want to make sure I’m still on the right track.”
“Not just Deanna,” said the Chief. “Johnny and Jerry will be in danger, too, if they keep lugging the body of a dead mobster’s son around like this. And of course there’s Flint.”
They all turned to the Chief.
“Who’s Flint?” asked Alice,
voicing the question that was on all of their minds.
“Before you guys came on board, I asked Flint Dickens to look into this whole Vic Grabarski business.”
“Flint as in Flint Dickens the Lazy Robber?” asked Mabel, then laughed. “What makes you think he’ll be able to figure out what’s going on?”
“Who’s Flint Dickens?” Reece asked Rick, but the latter merely shrugged.
“Flint is by way of being an informer of mine,” said the Chief. “He tells me what’s going on in the criminal underbelly of this small town of ours and in exchange I, well, I go easy on him when he succumbs to the temptations of delinquency.”
“Does this town have a criminal underbelly?” asked Bettina.
“Every town has a criminal underbelly,” said the Chief. “It’s human nature.”
“Huh,” said Bettina. “I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, come on, Bettina,” said Mabel. “How many crimes have we solved in our capacity as members of the neighborhood watch?”
“I know, but still.”
“Happy Bays is like Cabot Cove,” said Rick with a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, perhaps not Cabot Cove, exactly,” said the Chief, “but we do have crime. And now I think I’ll go and spring Virgil from prison. You guys try and find Deanna, and when you do, you can and should make a citizen’s arrest. If only to keep her safe from harm.” And with these words, he strode off towards his squad car.
“There’s still one thing I don’t understand,” said Alice.
“Only one thing?” said Fee.
“Why is my dad so adamant about protecting this Deanna woman? And why doesn’t he charge Virgil? Marjorie was right. He did commit a crime, and should probably be punished.”
“Marjorie could give him house arrest,” said Bettina. “That would be punishment enough.”
But no one addressed the real mystery, Fee thought: what was the connection between Chazz Falcone and Deanna Kohl? And how were they connected to Grabarski?
“I don’t know about you guys,” said Mabel. “But I’m going to this party tonight.”
