Doggone Disaster

by Margaret Lashley

  “Try to look innocent,” I whispered as ape man drove slowly by in his white SUV.

  He pulled his Bronco up in his driveway, climbed out and stared at us. I got a bad case of the willies.

  “What’s he doing now?” Goober asked. From their vantage point under the hood, he and Winky only had a view of the Chevette’s puny engine.

  “He’s going to the back of his SUV,” I said. “He’s pulling out a box. Oh lord! He’s coming our way!”

  I panicked, jumped in the driver’s seat of the Chevette and tried the ignition. Nothing.

  “What’s in the box?” Goober asked.

  “A gaul-dang meat cleaver with my name on it!” Winky said. “We got to get outta here. Lemme try bangin’ on the solenoid.” I heard Winky hit something hard with the socket wrench he’d been toting for protection.

  “Try it now!” Goober yelled.

  I bit my lip and tried the ignition again. Nothing. Ape man was only twenty feet away.

  “Do something!” I screamed.

  Winky gave the engine another blow with the wrench. I tried the ignition again. The Chevette belched to life.

  “Get in!” I ordered needlessly. The guys’ torsos were already halfway inside the open windows. I hit the gas. The Chevette lurched forward. Winky and Goober tumbled the rest of the way onto the backseat. My eyes shifted from the rear-view mirror to the windshield. Ape man was just a few feet away. He reached into his pocket for something....

  “Punch it!” Goober shouted.

  I hit the gas and whizzed by ape man. Then I remembered I live in a cul-de-sac.

  Crap on a saltine cracker!

  I did a one-eighty in somebody’s driveway. We squealed past ape man again. He was staring us down like a stone-age serial killer.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Goober wasn’t one to waste money filling a gas tank. There was just enough fuel in the rusty old Chevette to make it to the turn-in for Davie’s Donuts before it sputtered out and died. If we hadn’t had to wait on a nearly fossilized old guy from Ontario to finally make a left-hand turn, we probably would have made it. As it was, we had to get out and push the stalled hulk into the lot next to Winnie’s old Dodge van.

  Yep. Just another glamorous day in St. Pete Beach.

  “Can you spare a spill?” Goober asked Winky as I wiped dirt and rust from my hands onto my jeans.

  “Sure...thang,” Winky said between gasps for air. “I’ll fetch...the gas can...out of the van.”

  My cellphone pinged. The display read, “Tom.”

  “I gotta take this,” I said. “I’ll meet you guys inside.”

  I walked a safe distance away from the guys’ potentially flammable endeavor and clicked on the phone.

  “Hey, Tom!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. My heart was still thumping from pushing the dead Chevette.

  “Hey there! How’s my favorite dog sitter?”

  I gulped. “Uh...great.”

  “Everything running smoothly?”

  I glanced over at Winky and Goober playing tug-of-war with the gas can. I walked a little further away, out of obscenity range. “Well, uh, you could say that.”

  “Good. You holding down the fort with Buster?”

  “Uh, yeah. No problems there.”

  “That’s good. Because...I won’t be home tonight. The meeting got extended for another day.”

  “Oh...” I said, trying to sound disappointed. Actually, I was elated. It gave me one more day to find Buster! “That’s too bad.”

  “I’m still waiting on that picture of you in the earrings,” Tom said in his sexy-time voice.

  “You didn’t get it?” I asked coyly. “Huh. Something goofy must be going on with my phone. Oh, I know. There’s been some bad storms the last two days. A cell tower might be down.”

  “Oh. Any damage at our place?”

  Our place? “Just the usual. Chairs blown around and stuff.”

  “Good. Send me the picture, okay? I want to show it to some buds here.”

  “Oh. Right. Will do.”

  “Hey, I got something for Buster.”

  Crap! “You did? What?”

  “I’ll show it to you when I get home tomorrow night. We can celebrate.”

  “Sure. That sounds great.”

  “I miss you, Val. Don’t forget to send the picture.”

  “I won’t. I miss you, too. Bye.”

  “Wait! I know it’s a day early, but...happy anniversary. Can you believe it’s been two years since we met?”

  “No,” I said. “I can’t believe it. Bye.”

  I clicked off the phone. Geeze! Tomorrow was May 22 already? With everything else going on, I’d forgotten all about it. Tom had gotten me diamond earrings. I’d gotten him squat. And I’d lost the earrings and his dog to boot! It was official. I was a terrible girlfriend.

  I racked my brain. What can I get Tom to soften the blow? I can’t just have him come back to find Buster and my earrings gone! I looked over toward the van. The guys were no where to be seen. I punched #3 on my speed dial. Cold Cuts picked up.

  “Hey, Val! Long time no see. What’s up?”

  “Not a lot,” I lied. “How are you and Bill?”

  “Doing great. It’s been a blast helping him out here at the resort.”

  “You’re there now?”

  “Yeah. I’m telling you, Val, it’s like living on a permanent vacation at the beach.”

  “That sounds really cool. I wish I was there.”

  “Me, too. Bill and I took the old RV out camping last week. We actually stopped by your place the other day, but you weren’t home.”

  “That’s too bad. I’d love to see you.”

  “Why don’t you come down? Stay a few days?”

  “Well, I have to admit, that’s why I was calling. Do you happen to have a cottage free tomorrow night? I wanted to do something nice for Tom. It’s our anniversary.”

  “Cool! How long’s it been?”

  “Two years.”

  “Wow. Congrats. Let me check the books. Ooops! The resort line’s ringing. Hold on.”

  I listened as Cold Cuts picked up the other line. “Sunset Sailaway Resort. Yes. No. I’m sorry. I just booked the last room available for tomorrow. Yes. No. Well, thanks for giving us a call. Goodbye. Val?”

  “Yes, I’m here. So, you booked up?”

  “Nope. You’re in luck. Got you your favorite cottage, too. Number twenty-two. Come and stay the weekend. We can catch up!”

  “Thanks so much! You’re a life saver, Cold Cuts! Okay. We’ll –”

  “Uh oh. A customer just walked in. I gotta go. Come on down anytime tomorrow. We’ll talk then! Bye!”

  My line went dead. I smiled and hit speed dial #7. Tom picked up right away.

  “Oh,” he said. “ I thought you were the picture of you in the earrings.”

  “Nope. Sorry to disappoint you. It’s just me.”

  Tom laughed. “So, what’s up? You miss me already?”

  “Yes,” I teased. “And I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you’re not coming back until tomorrow, I have to. I booked us for a weekend at the Sunset Sailaway Resort.”

  “What? Really? That’s great! When?”

  “Starting tomorrow. For our anniversary.”

  “Val, tomorrow’s Wednesday. I’ll have to check if I can...uh...get the time off work.”

  “Just ask for comp time. You worked all last weekend, right?”

  “Right. Sure.”

  “So, just meet me down there tomorrow.”

  “But...okay. Next time, give me a little more notice, okay?”

  “You don’t give people notice when it’s supposed to be a surprise, Tom. And it’s hard to pull anything over on you, Detective Foreman.”

  WHEN I WALKED INTO Davie’s Donuts, Winky and Goober were chowing down on a selection of donut discards compliments of the head waitress, Winnie. I ordered a coffee and tried not to look as they scarfed down the half-eaten leftovers of earlier pat
rons.

  “Don’t you want any?” Winky asked, and shoved the plate my way.

  “No, thanks.” I patted my stomach. “Saving my donut calories for the peanut butter bombs waiting for me at home.”

  “Can’t blame ya there,” Winky said, and popped a piece of powdered donut in his mouth.

  A dish shattered on the floor. I spun around to see Winnie grimacing and shaking her head so hard her black bob was swaying.

  “I’m nervous as a mouse in a rat-trap store,” Winnie said. “I hope I hear from that contest soon, or I just might break every darn dish in this place.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I can’t imagine anything being better than those donuts you came up with.”

  “We sure could use the winnings,” Winnie said as she unhooked a dustpan from the wall. “We sunk all our savings into fishing tackle and jewelry what-not for Playing Hooky. You know, those tackle earrings we make.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Oh! That reminds me. Winky, you got a call this morning. The jewelry you left at Old Joe’s Bait Shop needs to be picked up.”

  “Old Joe called me?” Winky asked, his eyebrows almost touching his ginger buzz cut. He must have been astonished, because he forgot all about the piece of donut hovering in his hand next to his right cheek.

  “Uh...no,” I clarified. “Old Joe is dead, Winky.”

  “Whew!” he said, and let his hand drop. “I seen this show on TV where somebody got a phone call from their dead paw-paw, and –”

  “It was Finkerman, Winky,” I said, cutting him off. “Ferrol Finkerman called. He’s handling distribution of Old Joe’s worldly possessions.”

  “Oh. Well, that was mighty thoughty of him,” Winky said.

  “I’m sure he’s being remunerated for his troubles,” I said.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Winky said and shook his head. “Hope he gets over it quick.”

  “We had us a sizable inventory in the shop,” Winnie said. “I was gonna give a pair of hard-bodied grub earrings to Sherryl. You know, like the ones we gave you, Val. But I haven’t had time to make any, what with the contest and all.”

  “All you need to do is call Finkerman and make an appointment to pick them up,” I said. “I’ll go with you if you want.”

  “Uh, okay,” said Winky. He gave Winnie the eye. “I’ll let you know.”

  “So, who’s Sherryl?” I asked Winnie. She looked down.

  I glanced around. Winky’s and Goober’s eyes found somewhere new to look. I cleared my throat. “I said, who’s Sherryl?”

  “Jorge’s girlfriend,” Goober said.

  “Oh!” I smiled. “You mean Jorge’s hot girlfriend.”

  “You know about her?” Winky asked.

  “Well, sure. The guys told me already.”

  “And you’re okay with it?” Winnie asked.

  “What? Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

  “Well, Sherryl is the cousin of Darryl,” Goober explained.

  “The near identical cousin,” Winnie added.

  “Oh,” I said. I sensed there was more to this story than they were letting on.

  “I got a cousin looks near identical to Popeye the Sailor Man,” Winky offered.

  Goober rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said. He reached a long arm over and showed me a cellphone picture of Jorge and Sherryl. She was J-Lo gorgeous, and spot on a match for Tom’s breathtaking ex-wife, Darryl.

  “I think it’s pretty cool,” Winnie said. “Going all the way up to Tallahassee to meet her family.”

  “Tallahassee?” I asked. My internal radar pinged to life.

  “Yes...?” Winnie said.

  “Let me see that picture again.” I grabbed the cellphone out of Goober’s hand and started flipping through the photos.

  “Hey! Give that back,” Goober protested. “Those are private!” He tried to wrestle the phone back from me. But three flips in, I found what I was looking for. It was a picture of Darryl, Tom’s ex, looking sexier than a woman had a right to be. Sitting next to her, holding her hand, a huge grin on his handsome, boyish face, was Tom, my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I gave Goober back his phone and pretended not to see the picture of Tom cozying up to Darryl on their secret rendezvous – the one that he’d lied through his teeth to me about! That cheating jerk! I forced a smile, even though I was seething with the anger of betrayal. I excused myself and walked as calmly out of Davie’s Donuts as I could, hoping my teeth wouldn’t crack from the strain of holding back the motherlode of obscenities tumbling like an avalanche through my mind.

  I stomped through the parking lot looking for Maggie. When I saw Goober’s old Chevette, my blinding rage lifted enough for me to remember I’d arrived in that rusted-out hulk. Cinderella’s carriage, it was not. Crap. I could either call a cab or walk, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to go begging a ride from those jerks back inside. I pictured them having a laugh on me, casually eating donuts while my world crumbled around me.

  Did everybody know about Tom’s affair with Darryl except me?

  I hitched my purse up on my shoulder and marched in the direction of home, fueled by rage and righteous anger – and the frenetic energy generated by my inner thighs rubbing together. If I could’ve harnessed the power of that, I could’ve quite possibly become the next Nobel Prize laureate.

  But at the moment, I had other more important goals on my mind. And I needed to see a woman about a couple of dogs....

  AFTER I’D TRUDGED ALL the way back home, I’d jumped in Maggie to run a few errands. Along the way, I’d called Judy Bloomers and asked her to meet me for coffee at a diner down the road. I needed an objective opinion about how to dispose of Tom, the murderous barbecue guy next door, and the fake diamond earrings I’d just picked up at the Dollar Store. We were sitting in a booth sipping lousy coffee. I’d just spilled my guts about Tom’s affair.

  “Affairs with ex’s are the worst,” Judy said as she twirled a lock of black hair poking out beneath her bleach-blonde bouffant. “But look on the bright side, Val. It solves your problem about Tom moving in with you.”

  I looked up from my coffee cup. “You know, you’re right, Judy!” I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Can you believe it? I just made plans for a beach getaway for our anniversary. Why did I even bother?”

  “Men,” Judy sneered. “Almost never worth the effort.” She eyed a plate of nachos headed for another table and snagged the waitress. “I’ll take one of those, please.”

  “Nachos? At ten in the morning?” I asked.

  “I just took a picture of you wearing fake earrings to impress your cheating boyfriend,” Judy said. “Don’t judge me and I won’t judge you.”

  I bit my lip and sighed. “Deal. Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “What’s with the dark hair under the blonde?”

  “You mean my ‘secret hair’?”

  “Uh...yeah.”

  “It’s there to annoy people. Works pretty good, huh?”

  I coughed out a laugh. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Judy eyed me up and down. “Look, Val. Why should I have to try and look pretty for other people? I tell you now, the world’s being overrun by beauty terrorism! And we women are the only victims. Look around. Guys don’t even have to shave their faces anymore. Or cut their hair. Look at mister man-bun over there.”

  I glanced over at a guy who was a poster child for Judy’s cause. “You have a point, there.”

  “They get to let it all hang out,” Judy continued. “Meanwhile, we gals have to shave and wax and...and geeze!” She leaned in toward me and lowered her voice. “We’re not even allowed to have pubes anymore!” She sat back in the booth and showed me her palms. “I give up. Forget it! Call me ugly if you want. I’m gonna live the rest of my life to please me, myself and I.”

  The waitress delivered the nachos. I eyed them and Judy with growing envy.

  Judy picked up a tortilla
chip and waved it like a pointer. “If I want nachos for breakfast, so be it. I mean, really. Who cares?”

  I responded with a shrug. “I dunno.”

  “Look at it this way,” Judy continued. “I have two choices. I can not eat the nachos and starve myself in the one-in-a-million chance prince charming comes along and thinks I look good in a pair of jeans – and then has the balls to sweep me off my feet. Or, two, I can eat nachos and be one-hundred percent sure of enjoying myself now. And as the Buddhists say, all we’ve got is the now moment. Five thousand years later and that truth still stands, Val.”

  Judy shoved the chip in her mouth and crunched down on it. She cocked her head and smiled. “Hey, in a way, eating these nachos is kind of like practicing my religious beliefs.”

  “You’ve got a pretty good point there,” I admitted. “Mind if I practice along with you?”

  Judy grinned. “Be my guest. I never say ‘no’ to new converts.”

  I reached for a chip. “I have to confess –”

  “Hey,” Judy said, and put a hand up. “This is Buddhism. Not Catholicism.”

  I laughed. “I called you because I wanted to ask you about my neighbor. The guy who bought 1333 Bimini Circle?”

  “Yeah? What about him?”

  “He’s pretty weird. I mean...he’s really, really, really weird.”

  Judy grinned and leaned in for the juicy details. “What kind of weird we talking here?”

  “Serial-killer weird. Dogs are missing. He barbecues in a Speedo. We found graves in his yard!”

  “I knew it!” Judy said, straightening up in the booth. “I did some digging.” Judy caught her own pun and laughed. “Sorry. Unintentional. Anyway. I found out the guy’s name. It’s Jake Johnson.”

  “Yes!” I exclaimed. “He told me once. I couldn’t remember. But that’s it. I’m sure of it.”

  “Not good,” Judy said, shaking her head.

  “What do you mean?”