“I’ll go grab some scissors.” I turned to go back into the house.
“No need. I’ve got my Swiss Army knife.” With that, Kenny took the tip of the blade and carefully cut at the fabric, until he had a hole large enough to insert a couple of strong fingers. From there, he ripped the cloth. Once my brother’s head was unwrapped, we discovered his mouth had also been covered in duct tape. With little mercy, Kenny picked at a corner of the adhesive gag and ripped it off. The words that came out of Bur’s mouth surprised even me. I didn’t know he had such a extensive and profane vocabulary. When he got done swearing, he shook himself off and nodded to us.
“Thanks. Now get the rest of this crap off of me!”
It took the better part of ten minutes to free my brother. By that time, he had shared his tale of woe. Coming out of the house, he was making his way around the side of the house, in the hopes of sneaking up on the garden invader, when two pairs of hands grabbed him from behind. He never got a look at either suspect.
“Why would someone do this to Bur?” I wondered aloud. “What would be the point?”
At that moment, a terrified scream alerted us to trouble on the second floor. I shivered at the sound, imagining the worst. “That was....”
Lacey’s face appeared in the window above us. “Help me! Someone, help me! Please!”
The three-dog chorus joined the call for assistance, barking their little heads off. From the third floor came Jenny’s worried voice. “What’s going on?”
“Crap! Call the cops!” Shaking himself off, Kenny hobbled towards the front door, followed by his limping cohort, on their way to rescue the senior citizen. Me, I sprinted past them. This was a matter of life or death.
Chapter Eleven --
I took the stairs, two at a time, surprised I could actually run that fast. Must be all the hiking I do, I thought to myself, even as my brain tried to process the sight at the top of the stairs. Lacey, dressed in a practical cotton nightgown, was being restrained by a man wearing a ski mask. A ski mask in summer?
“Stay where you are or I’ll toss her over the railing!” commanded a gruff voice.
“You do that and I’ll toss your sorry ass over the railing,” I countered, with far more bravado than I felt. “You let her go now and I might let you live!”
“Aw, geez!” I heard a voice in the vestibule below. It sounded like Kenny.
“Is she freaking nuts?” That was Bur. I recognized the disgusted tone. “What the hell is she doing?”
“I mean it!” the masked intruder insisted.
“I do too. You let her go right now!”
He inched Lacey closer to the railing, but I stood my ground. Don’t ask me how I knew he was bluffing, but I did.
“I’m going to do it,” he warned me.
“No, you’re not. Want to know why?” Judging from the silence in the hallway below us, I knew Kenny and Bur were already on their way up the back stairs.
“Miz Scarlet!” Jenny popped her head around the corner. “What’s going on?”
“Yeah, I want to know why.”
“You won’t do it because as we speak, the cops are on their way. You murder her and you’re eligible to serve a life sentence. That is, if I don’t get my hands on you first, Neil Kradic!”
“Wha-a..what?” Now that I knew Neil was involved, my fear seemed to fade away. I was fired up and ready to drop kick his keister over the goal post.
“You heard me, you little cheese weasel! You thought I wouldn’t recognize you, after all the times you sat in my room for after-school detention?”
“But I....”
“Scarlet, look out!” Jenny screamed at me. Even as I was turning around, I felt a powerful hand at my back. Neil’s accomplice gave me a hard shove and I went flying. Desperate to save myself, I reached out my arms, my hands clutching at nothing. A moment later, I landed face down, with my nose buried in the woven woolen blossoms of the faded Sarouk runner. There were sounds of a scuffle behind me, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs. I wondered if Kenny and Bur were up to the task, given their injuries. I found out a moment later, when I got to my feet and turned around.
Kenny was nursing his jaw, flexing the muscles of his mouth. Bur was clutching his shoulder, grumbling about his rotator cuff. Neil Kradic and his accomplice were already on their way out the front door, chased by a scrappy pack of small canines with more bark than bite.
“The dogs are loose!” I hollered, pointing. “Don’t let them run into the street!”
Jenny and I took off after them, followed by our lurching backup team.
Luckily, Huck and Mozzie were more than happy to end their pursuit at the end of the driveway. Tails wagging, they were proud of their success in chasing away the intruders. But January’s territorial instincts had her convinced it was her duty to cuff the bad guys, even if that meant pursuing them down the sidewalk and grabbing hold of the bottoms of their trousers.
“Get away from me!” Neil’s companion hollered, swiping at the tiny terrier as he tried to sidestep her. January paid him no mind. She latched onto his pant leg with fierce determination, refusing to let go despite the barrage of hands. He stopped, shook his leg like it was a maraca in a mambo band, and sent the little dog flying. Before she could charge again, the two men inserted themselves into a dented Ford pickup. As the engine started, I saw the man turn and look out the back window. He shifted the red truck into reverse, aiming for us.
“No!” I screamed, lunging at the little dog as that creep grinned and gunned the motor. The startled dog did as I hoped she would, sprinting up onto the sidewalk, away from the crazy lady. I follow her, even as I heard the crunch of metal behind me. Thank God for lamp posts that come between me and my assailant. The moron behind the wheel shifted again and peeled out, leaving a trail of black rubber and the shattered pieces of his right tail light on the road.
“Oh, my God! He tried to kill you!” Poor Jenny was horrified. “He drove right at you!”
There was no time to think about that now. “Help me get January.”
The Jack Russell was now standing some ten feet away, yapping at me. “Come on, girl. I did it for your own good. I didn’t want you to get crushed.”
It took January a few long moments to come to her senses. Still agitated from her chase, doggie adrenaline pumping, she paced beside a bush. I knelt down on the grass and called her.
“Here, baby. I’m sorry. What do you say -- am I forgiven?”
“It’s okay, girl. Everything’s fine now,” Jenny sat cross-legged beside me, her voice soft and soothing as she encouraged January. “Wasn’t she amazing, Miz Scarlet? She really tried to take that guy down.”
“She would have made a good, little police dog,” I smiled, as the little terrier finally came to me. I gave her an affectionate pat on the head before scooping her up in my arms. “Brave girl, you definitely deserve a biscuit for that!”
Kenny was waiting for us at the front porch. “Did you get the license plate?”
“Before or after the guy tried to run me over?” I growled.
“Oh, geez!” That sounded like dismay from the security expert. I couldn’t tell if he was commiserating with me over my near-miss or disappointed I couldn’t identify the truck. Maybe it was a little of both. I took pity on him, noting the purple mark across his jaw.
“Relax. We don’t really need the plate,” I announced, on the way to the kitchen. “I recognized one of the guys. He was a student at the high school.”
I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and handed it to Kenny, while we waited for the police to show up. Bur was upstairs with Jenny and Lacey, retracing the steps of our intruders. I could hear them talking as they went from room to room.
“I was sound asleep,” Lacey told them. “My door swung open and this masked man came rushing in!”
“What did he want?” Jenny wanted to know.
“I don’t know. When he saw me, he backed out and shut the door again. That’s when I screame
d for help.”
The faraway whine of sirens broke through the bird symphony outside, interrupting a house wren in fine voice. A minute later, the police sedan pulled up to the front door of the Four Acorns Inn and a couple of uniformed officers emerged.
“Come on in,” I greeted Officer Peters and a female partner. Looking past them, I spied an unmarked cruiser crawling down the street at fifteen miles an hour, going east. A moment later, a marked cruiser crept up White Oak Hill Road in the opposite direction.
Peters saw my interest. “We got a call about a couple of masked men running through the neighborhood just before you called us. We assumed it’s related, so if we don’t spot them soon, we’re going to do a house-to-house.”
“I know the identity of one of them,” I announced. “He used to be a student when I taught at Cheswick High.”
Out came the notebook from Officer Lindquist’s pocket. She started taking notes with a pen. After scribbling a few words on a blank page, she waited expectantly.
“Neil Kradic.”
“Neil...C-r-a-d-d-o-c-k?”
“No,” I shook my head and gave her the correct spelling.
“Is there bad blood between the two of you? Could he have a grudge he’s looking to settle?” Peters studied my reaction.
“Kradic got himself into minor trouble in high school. He skipped classes, he refused to do his homework, and he was a regular pain in most of the teachers’ necks, but there wasn’t much animosity involved.”
“So, you were surprised to see him here today?”
“Absolutely. I haven’t worked at the high school for quite some time, and Neil’s got to be pushing thirty.”
“Do you remember the last time you saw him?” Peters leaned against the Victorian newel post at the bottom of the stairs.
“As a matter of fact, I do. It was my last week of teaching. Godfrey Beddens’ physics class was outside with the catapult they had built as a group project. Neil stole a watermelon from the cafeteria kitchen, loaded it into the catapult, and nailed the principal’s station wagon in the parking lot. Unfortunately, instead of it being one of those Gallagher moments, with a watermelon splattering all over the place, the force and trajectory of the flying fruit shattered the windshield. Gloria Hornyak was fit to be tied. That was pretty typical of Neil Kradic -- bad judgment and dumb pranks, but not necessarily dangerous to teachers or peers.”
“And yet, he was here today, menacing Lacey,” Kenny pointed out. “That’s hardly harmless behavior.”
“True. I think it was his companion who egged him on,” I sighed, reflecting on our recent face-to-face. “But I still can’t figure out why they broke in, or why they trussed and taped Bur up. It just makes no sense to me.”
“A lot of people get stupid when they’re hooked on heroin or meth,” Officer Lindquist said. “They do dangerous things.”
“Maybe, but I didn’t get the impression they were under the influence of anything. Believe me; I’ve seen a lot of kids high -- alcohol, marijuana, speed, even ecstasy. Neil’s eyes were clear and bright. But there was something wonky about all this.”
“In what way?” Officer Peters wondered.
“Why did they have a bed sheet and duct tape handy when they went after Bur? If they were just here to rob the inn, why go after Bur outside? And who was the person in the garden, the one who chopped up the blueberry bushes?”
Officer Lindquist shrugged. “You can’t always know what’s going on in someone’s addled brain.
“Maybe it was deliberate, a distraction,” Kenny suggested, “that would enable them to get inside the inn.”
"But how did they know I would choose that moment in time to glance out the kitchen window?” I gazed up at him expectantly, hoping he had a ready answer, but I got nothing. “If I had been just a few minutes later, I’d have never witnessed his appearance in the garden. None of this adds up.”
“Unless they were watching you and waited for you to notice them. Maybe they were deliberately moving around out there, trying to get you to pay attention.”
“It’s all very odd,” I replied. “What’s the point of all this harassment?”
“I still think it’s an attempt to intimidate you.” Kenny was adamant.
“I agree.” We all turned to find Detective Valboa standing a few feet away. “Consider the explosive device, the punctured tires on the car, and the earlier intrusion, the one that scared your teenager. It was supposed to frighten all of you. Why would today’s event be any different?”
“But I thought we had already determined that was the handiwork of David and Diana Wilkie,” Officer Lindquist pointed out.
“It was, but they were likely hired to harass. That means we don’t have the brains behind the effort, as evidenced by today’s events. Grabbing Mr. Wilson in the garden and Mrs....”
“Ms. Googins,” Lacey announced, making her way down the long, gracious staircase like a soap opera diva. She had exchanged her cotton nightie for a stylish pantsuit. “I’ve decided to reclaim my maiden name.”
“Really?” That slipped out of my mouth before I could edit it.
“Really.” The petite senior citizen paused at the third step from the bottom, so that she towered over us. “You might be quite correct about that, Detective. That horrible young man rushed out of my room when I screamed, but he returned when everyone came running into the house. I thought he was being rather theatrical when he threatened to throw me over the railing.”
“Where was the other young man?” Valboa wanted to know.
“Let me think. I first saw him when he appeared suddenly in the hall.” Lacey recalled. “Good heavens! I believe he was in the Wilkies’ room!”
“Scarlet, did you clean the White Oak Room yet?” Kenny demanded.
“I went to bed so late last night, I just haven’t had time. It’s been one thing after another. Besides, you asked me to lock the room, Detective Valboa.”
“Indeed I did. Let’s take a look,” he replied. I led the way up the stairs to the Wilkies’ room and started to insert my key in the lock, but there was no need. It had been jimmied. I stood aside to let the cops inside. “Has anything been removed from here by you or your staff?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Wait here,” he directed us, shutting the door. We could hear the occasional mumble as the three members of the Cheswick police force did an inspection of the accommodation used by Dave and Diana Wilkie.
Bur and Jenny joined us just outside the White Oak Room. She looked rather pleased with herself.
“I cleaned the adhesive from the duct tape off of Poup with some salt water and baby oil. He was a real sticky mess. What’s going on?”
“The police are trying to determine if the Wilkies’ possessions have been disturbed,” I replied, leaning against the wall. Kenny plunked himself down on a hallway chair, wincing as he stretched his sore leg.
“Oh, I forgot their stuff was still here,” said my assistant.
“This latest episode might have been staged as some kind of diversion.” Kenny leaned against the wall, arms folded. He was still bothered by the run-in Bur had in the garden.
“A diversion?” the teenage asked.
“Yes, to give those men a chance to search for something in the Wilkies’ room.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. It could be just about anything.”
The round white Victorian glass knob suddenly turned. A moment later, Officer Peters appeared and, waving a finger in my direction, beckoned to me. As I stepped into the room, the others crowded around the open door, peering in eagerly.
The Matelassé coverlet on my grandmother’s antique poster bed was cut down the middle. The velvet drapes I made for the room were now trimmed to hang just three inches or so below the upper sash, the remaining fabric crumpled on the floor. Dresser drawers had been pulled open, their contents strewn everywhere. But it was the feather pillows that caused the most dismay. Not only had the punctur
e-proof cases been cut open, the contents had been dumped out, leaving a thin, white covering of soft down on the wood floor. In a December Christmas display, it would have been a pretty sight; in a guest room at the Four Acorns Inn in May, it was just annoying. A constant swirl of feathers rose and fell as we crossed the room, the movement of our shuffling feet creating air currents that lifted them with each step. One tickled the tip of my nose as it floated gently back down to earth; I waved it away with more force than necessary. Boy, this is going to be a bitch to clean up. I hope the vacuum cleaner won’t choke on all the feathers. With my luck, though, I will. Maybe I’d better wear a mask. Too bad those devils didn’t drop one of theirs on the way out.
But it was the White Oak bathroom that gave me a most unpleasant surprise. Shaving foam dripped from the wall-mounted mirror onto the sink and the Victorian tiles below. The tube of Crest toothpaste had been squirted on the window panes and woodwork, its sticky peppermint squiggles perfuming the air. In the bottom of the shower stall sat a pile of thick, fluffy towels, topped with a gooey mixture of shampoo, conditioner, and body lotion. Gazing around, I felt like I’d stepped into a high school locker room. The only thing the creeps didn’t do was use the toilet paper for ceiling streamers.
“Wow, somebody’s got it in for you,” said Officer Peters. “I’m guessing neither of these guys ever qualified as teacher’s pet.”
“You think?” I growled, my frustration rising quickly. “What’s the point of all this?”
“Who knows?” Detective Valboa shrugged as he waited outside the bathroom doorway. “It could be anything from a desire for revenge to ordinary vandalism, better known as destruction for the sake of destruction.”
“Either way, I’m definitely feeling harassed. Enough already.” I fondled the fabric no longer attached to the beautiful drapes I had made. It was all such a waste. Could I sew them back together or would I have to replace them? The last thing I wanted on my to-do list before this upcoming wedding was to have to redecorate. I sighed the sigh of a hundred-year-old crone, feeling like that too. Here lies Miz Scarlet, former schoolmarm, done in by a couple of jerks running with scissors. Where did they find a pair? Or did Kradic and his thug friend bring them with them?
Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom Page 10
