Armed and Outrageous (An Agnes Barton Mystery)

by Johns, Madison

  “Somebody must be supplying them with information,” William suggested and then said to me, “I’m glad to hear you haven’t given up on finding Jennifer.”

  “Have you received any suspicious phone calls?” I asked William.

  “No, I wish I had. It’s like there’s not a trace of her anywhere.”

  “Something will turn up. I know it will.”

  We helped Andrew off the table and outside.

  William, who'd closely shadowed us, piped in with, “Andrew, if you'd like, I could check out her place to make sure nobody is lurking around.”

  “That sounds good,” I replied. Turning toward Andrew, “Where do you want to go?”

  “Back to your house.”

  “Really? Even after I shot a hole through you?”

  “It’s not safe for you to be there alone.”

  I waited for a slow moving Andrew to climb into the LX before settling myself in the drivers seat.

  “About the house,” I started. “It’s kind of a mess right now.”

  “What?”

  “There’s blood on the floor for one thing. If you kill someone in your home, the police leave the mess for you to clean up. It’s one of those things folks don’t know about until it happens to them.”

  “I see, maybe you should come back to Robinson’s Manor.”

  “I can’t, Duchess is up a tree, and I can’t just leave her outside like that. Who knows what trouble she’d get into.”

  William followed us back to my house, and he helped Andrew inside once we were there. William checked out the inside of the house while I extracted Duchess from the tree. We met in the living room where Andrew had laid down across the couch, mice and all.

  “Your bathroom window is busted out,” began William, “and the screen has been cut. That appears how the assailant got in. Do you have any plywood? I could board it up for you before I leave.”

  “That would be great.”

  I led him to the shed, and he found what he needed and pulled out the plywood, hammer, and nails. I supervised his work, and he seemed to know what he was doing.

  “You are sure handy with boards and nails.”

  “Surprised are you? My dad was a contractor, and I helped him build houses during the summer when I was a kid.” He smiled. “One of the reasons I don’t do that now – it’s back breaking work, and I decided long ago I wasn’t following in his footsteps.”

  “I bet he didn’t take that well.”

  “Nope, you got that right.”

  I showed William to the door. “Thanks William. I see now why Andrew holds you in such regard.”

  “Take care of the old fellow, okay? He’s the best friend a guy like me can have. I don’t trust many people.”

  “Well you can trust me to take care of Andrew; I've reloaded my gun already.” I smiled and closed the door, and when I returned to the living room, I saw that Andrew had fallen asleep. I pulled out my mop bucket and cleaned up the blood. It made me feel a bit queasy, and I could do without the smell, but I had to get it done. Vinegar water, just like my mother and her mother before her used; it cut through the odor perfectly.

  Duchess peeked in at the doorway, sniffing. I said to her, “I sure hope I don’t have to shoot anyone again, at least not in our home, honey.”

  Duchess nodded. I swear she did. She then softly purred, her eyes now watching the mop move back and forth.

  “I should feel awful that I ended a man’s life tonight,” I continued talking to myself. “But I didn't. I simply had no choice. It’s not my time to die, not yet anyway.”

  My house would never feel like the safe cozy cabin in the woods until I found Jennifer, and until all the goons were in custody. There was nothing about this whole business that felt coincidental, not to me anyway. There was a direct relation to Jennifer’s disappearance and the goons coming into town; I just had as yet to find out what that connection might be.

  Swish-swish-swish and slowly but surely, the blood was disappearing from my floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I stared out my kitchen window and yet again, thick fog surrounded my house. With the way in which events happened of late, I was half expecting someone to emerge from it. I wondered what I could do to feel secure. Electric fencing and vicious guard dogs, perhaps? Woods surrounded my house, just like the locations where I found Stella and Billy’s bodies.

  Stella certainly had reason to be concerned for her safety, but what about Billy Chambers? I felt relatively sure that he never saw it coming. Since the Robinson family murders, he lived in obscurity. It wouldn't matter much to folks that he was never arrested for the crimes. Public opinion could be quite vicious. I’m sure the people in this town felt justified in destroying the man’s life. Since Billy's death had gone public, I felt sure many folks thought themselves safer now. Few would consider it cold blooded murder as did I. But I knew with certainty, that he was not guilty of Stella’s murder.

  Andrew shuffled out of the bedroom, and I poured him a cup of fresh coffee, placing a fresh biscuit layered in butter in front of him. I whimpered at the sight of his arm in that sling.

  He sat and looked up at me with a half smile. “Did you bake this morning?”

  I nodded. “It’s what I do when I get nervous.” I walked away because his hard stare unnerved me, and I still felt terribly guilty over having shot him.

  His hair stuck up, but he still looked attractive. I had other thoughts, but they'd have to be put on hold until he was up to par.

  After having gathered my courage and swallowing my guilt, I joined him at the kitchen table. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Sore,” he said, rubbing his arm. “What are you planning to do today?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought. Eleanor’s car is still at Robinson’s Manor with a broken windshield, and my car is too small for her to sit comfortably.”

  “If you feel the need to gallivant, feel free to use my Lexus.”

  “I’m not sure I want to do that. I mean what if something were to happen to it, why I'd be mortified!”

  “The back window has already been shot to pieces. What more can happen?”

  I didn’t want to contemplate what more could happen or that it might get worse. One thing I knew for certain: things could always get worse. It was an illusion to think they’ll get better.

  Duchess walked into the living room and stretched. She looked at me like I should know what she wanted without her having to communicate with me via a meow. When I didn't respond, she meowed.

  “I know you want your breakfast too,” I said.

  I filled her dish with dry cat food, and she looked at me as if saying, “You expect me to eat this?”

  I answered as if I read her mind. “That’s all you’re getting.”

  Duchess walked over and wound herself around Andrew’s leg, and purred, sounding like a motorboat.

  “She has taken a liking to you, Andrew.”

  “Lucky for me, she doesn’t know I hate cats.” He smiled.

  “That’s not what you said yesterday.”

  “I’m glad you’re not the type of woman that has fifty cats.”

  The gears inside my head started to turn, and I thought of somewhere I could go today.

  “Thanks.” I kissed him. “You gave me a great idea.”

  I skipped into the next room and returned dressed in blue jeans and a yellow top with a picture of a cat covering my bosom.

  “Where are you going dressed like that?” Andrew sternly asked.

  “I’m going to Cat Lady’s house,” I said. I kissed him on the cheek, and ran out the door, jumped into the Lexus, and drove to Eleanor’s house.

  Once at El's house, I walked through the house and out to the deck, and there I found her. She didn't at first see me, and I stared in silence, watching as she worked out, kicking her heels up when she suddenly stopped to stare out into the fog over the lake.

  “Hi, what you looking at?” I asked.

&
nbsp; She didn't even turn to greet me, her full attention on the lake. “I thought I saw a ship moving through the fog. I know that seems odd.” She looked serious for a moment. “Maybe it's a ghost ship.”

  “You really watch too much TV.” I added. “But I think you might try to clean your glasses. I don’t see how you can see a damn thing through them.”

  She snickered. “Oh that must be it.”

  She walked inside, and turned on the kitchen faucet, running her spectacles under warm water and dried them with a tissue. “Are we going somewhere?”

  “Yup.”

  “Do I want to know where?”

  Without batting an eyelash, I replied, “Cat Lady’s house.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Let me slip something on that is cat hair proof.”

  Eleanor returned five minutes later wearing a denim outfit, pants, and shirt. It looked rough like the stiff jeans you used to buy that had to be washed twenty times before they were soft enough to wear comfortably.

  “Who’s afraid of cat hair? Not me,” Eleanor said, as she locked up and we went for the car. On seeing the Lexus, she asked. “Where is Andrew?”

  “I’ll explain it to you on the way.” Even as I said this I wondered, however might I explain having shot Andrew and having killed a man overnight?

  We piled into the Lexus and drove to Crooked Creek Road. It was more of a local street and made of packed dirt or dirt road as we referred to it around these parts. As we followed Crooked Creek Road, I had no idea how it could ever be referred as a road. It had huge ruts large enough for the LX to be buried with us inside as helpless victims. We'd never be found! I maneuvered my way along like a pro averting any serious damage to Andrew's precious LX or us.

  “If I tell you something, El, you are not allowed to make a joke out of it.”

  “What did you do, kill Andrew for his car?”

  “No, but I kind of shot him.” I grimaced. “Winged him to be exact.”

  Tears broke the surface of Eleanor's eyes. “Was he that bad?”

  “I just told you not to make a joke about it.”

  “Come on, you should know me better than that; it’s perfect joke material.”

  “I killed one of the goons last night. In fact, the one you shot in the ass.”

  El shook for a moment. “Oh my. I bet you had to do it. I mean seeing as how you haven’t offed anyone before. You must have had your reasons.”

  “He was in my house and planned to kill me on account of he thought I was you.”

  “Me!”

  “He thought I was the one who shot him; he came for revenge.”

  Her eyes rolled to the right. “That’s awful. I’m glad the goons don’t know where I live.”

  I smiled. “I was thinking maybe I should stay with you for awhile.”

  “You must have gone plain loco. I can’t have goons showing up at my house and shooting the place up. I mean, what would my neighbors think?”

  “Crazy old Eleanor is at it again is what they'd think!”

  “It was an accident,” Eleanor shouted.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t shoot your damn leg off.”

  “Oh look who’s talking. You killed someone last night and wounded your lover. I think you are way up the crazy meter farther than me.”

  “If I’m crazy... it comes from hanging out with you.”

  We stared at each other eye to eye, and we busted into laughter.

  “I swear, Aggie, one of these days you’re gonna make me pee my pants.”

  “You do that already.” I smirked. “For the record, Andrew is not my lover.”

  “Of course not, Aggie. What is it those young folks call it these days, he’s your friend with benefits.” She winked.

  “What is Mr. Wilson?”

  “He’s an acquaintance, and at times, I enjoy his wit.”

  “Is that what you call it? It looked to me that you were enjoying more than his wit.”

  “He’s just a bit on the freaky side is all.”

  “He’d have to be to tangle with the queen of the freaks.”

  “What does freak even mean?”

  “It means strange, and yup that sums up Mr. Wilson and you to a tee.”

  “You’re a real smarty pants.”

  I had a smug smile on my face. I won that round.

  Was it too much to hope that the crazy old bat out in the boonies would have any clue about the Robinson Murders? There had to be a connection between that cold case and the missing tourist, Jennifer Martin. I felt it in every fiber of my being.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A dingy white farmhouse came into view. It had seen better days, maybe thirty-years-ago. Today the shutters hung downward, and I wondered what held them up. I could see I’d have to wade through the tall weeds that surrounded the property in order to reach the front door.

  I yanked the wheel of the Lexus and tore up the Cat Lady’s driveway; perhaps a bit too fast because I found a shotgun leveled at my head when I stepped out.

  “Jesus, Aggie. Is that you?”

  Cat Lady had a first name I’m sure, but nobody around these parts knew it, including me.

  I grinned even though I was about peeing my pants by now. “Yup, of course. Who else is crazy enough to come out here?”

  Cat Lady moved her shotgun toward Eleanor. “What did you have to bring her for? You know perfectly well I don’t much like Eleanor.”

  “You don’t like anyone much,” Eleanor said. “Put that dang shotgun down before you shoot someone by accident.”

  She moved her firearm down, and her eyes focused on Eleanor with menacing intent. “Wouldn't be no accident,” Cat Lady retorted.

  She paused as if deep in thought. When she frowned, her wrinkles formed crevices on her aging face that looked to be filled with dirt. She wore a tan man’s shirt and brown trousers with knee high boots. Her straw like hair was covered with a straw hat. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a scarecrow and just as stick-like.

  I broke the silence and said, “You two behave or else I’m hunting down a hickory switch.”

  We followed the Cat Lady through the tall weeds and up the broken steps that led to her dilapidated wraparound porch. Her front door gaped open, and I could see an overstuffed white cat with tiger stripes and spots sitting in the doorway. When she meowed, we covered our ears because it sounded like a lion's roar. It must have been a calling of sorts as cats began to appear out of every nook, cranny, and hole big enough for them to crawl through, until we were surrounded on all sides, much to the amusement of Cat Lady.

  I gulped hard and wondered if coming here was the best choice. We could be eaten alive, and no one would ever come looking for us – not even Andrew or Trooper Sales. Heck nobody fool enough in town would ever traipse out here.

  Cat Lady walked inside, but I hesitated. In truth, I feared following her. I glanced toward Eleanor, and she looked as horrified as I.

  When I walked inside with Eleanor; she gripped my arm so tight I felt it go numb. Finally, I yanked my arm away and as I glance around, I saw there was nothing to be afraid of.

  It looked vacant inside with not even a strip of furnishings.

  “What happened to all of your furniture?” I asked.

  “It was pretty darn cold last winter, and I had to burn it for firewood.”

  Noticing a large ash pile in the fireplace it occurred to me that she might be telling the truth.

  When Cat Lady spoke, I noticed she had but one tooth on the bottom. At least she couldn’t eat us. She pushed a pipe between her lips and took a drag. It smelled funky as hell, and that worried me because how I could smell anything over the cat odor was beyond me.

  She left the room, and Eleanor nudged me.

  “Can we leave, please?” Eleanor’s face looked paler than ever, and she trembled. “She must have to clean litter boxes all damn day.”

  “It wouldn’t matter, with this many cats it'd still stink.” I grimaced. “Besides, do you see any l
itter boxes?”

  Cat Lady returned with three glasses. “Here I brought you two a glass of my moonshine. It’s the best you’ll ever taste.”

  We took the glasses, and I noticed they were brown inside and out. I wondered if she ever cleaned them? I knew she didn’t have indoor plumbing and just an outhouse out back. I’d pee on myself before I’d use it.

  I stared at the brown glass containing liquid that she tried to convince us was moonshine, and maybe it could have been exactly that, but it could as well have been acid for all I knew.

  “Down the hatch,” I said, downing it. I coughed, sputtered, and spewed. I felt dizzy, maybe a little more dizzy than normal. I felt the floor rise up to meet me, and it jarred me a little when my ass smacked it. “This is good shit.”

  Eleanor and the Cat Lady clinked glasses and downed theirs too. We all sat on the floor afterward, intoxicated after just one glass, cats all purring and staring at us.

  “You look funny,” I said to Cat Lady.

  “No, I always look dis’ way,” she slurred. “It kinda reminds me of da’ old days.”

  “You know it,” Eleanor chimed in. “Like when the Robinson murders happened. You remember that day?”

  “Holy shit, was dat a day. Folks were so afraid they didn’t come out for days,” the Cat Lady said.

  “Who you think did it?” I asked.

  “Weren’t that half-wit handyman that’s for sure.”

  “No?” I asked.

  “He’s afraid of his own shadow and from what I heard his plumbing never worked much with the girls.”

  I stared open mouthed. “Are you saying?”

  “He liked boys.”

  “There’s no way he’d rape Mrs. Robinson then.”

  “Nope.” Cat lady coughed and choked up something that resembled a hairball. “I hate when that happens. Those damn cats will be the death of me one day.”

  I swallowed hard as I imagined her licking clean her cats. “So if the handyman isn’t the killer, who is?”

  “Beats me, but I heard said Mrs. Robinson had some peculiar interests.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as she liked to flaunt her ass willy-nilly all over town. She modeled a few times for the Sears catalogue... thought she was pretty hot to trot.”