Jack The Roper (Axel Hatchett Mystery Book 6)

by Steven Nelson

  “And this is Margot,” she told me, gesturing at a swell-looking number with raven hair and glimmering eyes. She was wearing a too-tight blue sweater and too-tight black pants. There was something a little crazy in the smile she offered me.

  “Welcome home, Miles,” she said.

  “Glad to be back with family,” I said.

  “I’m Ned,” said a big guy around forty with frizzy hair. He was wearing overalls. “I’d stand up and shake hands with you, but I’ve got a bum leg. The war, you know.”

  The guy had a mouthful of chewing tobacco and he spit some of it into a coffee can on the table. The sound reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think of what.

  “And I’m Daisy, Miles,” said a forty-ish damsel with broken veins around her nostrils and bloodshot eyes. She was swaying a little in her chair and she held a big glass of what was probably gin in one hand. “So, you’re one of Geneva’s kids. Did you ever find out who your dad was?”

  “No. Rumor has it he was a traveling swimming pool salesman, but I never met the guy. That’s OK, I don’t mind being a little bastard. Folks don’t expect too much from you.”

  There were no more people to meet. None of them asked me about my busted face. Too polite, I guess. Daisy waved me to a chair and offered me some cake and my choice of whiskey or gin. Billy offered me a pickle, and Ned held out his pouch of Redman and asked if I cared for a chew.

  “Thanks, but I had a big supper,” I told them. “I’ll stick with my cigars, if no one minds.”

  “I mind,” said Margot. “Only brutal men smoke cigars. Are you a brutal man, Miles?”

  “Not so you’d notice. Say, I wouldn’t mind a nip of that gin.” I thought it might help my headache.

  “Sure,” said Hester. “Let’s have one together.”

  She found a big tumbler and poured three or four fingers of gin into it. I drank it down like a hero and actually started feeling better. I looked around at the noisy band of hooligans and wondered how the proper Miss Weatherby put up with them. They all seemed pretty sloshed. Ned started telling me a war story, but Margot interrupted him.

  “Ned wants to tell you about his war wound,” she said, rolling her crazy eyes. “He fell out of a Jeep while delivering some general’s laundry.”

  “That’s not how it was,” broke in Ned, turning even redder than he’d already been. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a war wound.”

  “I could have been in the service,” hissed Margot.

  “Sure, but they wouldn’t let you dames fight. Good thing, too, or we would have lost the war.”

  Margot lunged across the table at Ned, a fork in her hand, but the war hero jumped out of his chair and backed against the wall. He seemed pretty spry for a guy with a bum leg.

  “Children!” shouted Agnes. “I’ll have none of this fighting. It’s time you all went to your rooms.”

  “It’s too early, Auntie,” complained Hester. “I want to get to know Miles better.”

  She fluttered her fake eyelashes at me. I tried not to notice.

  “Does anyone want more cake?” asked Daisy, pouring more gin into her glass.

  Nobody answered. Margot had calmed down, and Ned returned to his chair.

  “You staying with us?” Billy asked me.

  “Of course he is,” said Agnes. “He’s family.”

  I wondered if she’d forgotten I wasn’t really a relative of hers.

  “Is your luggage in your car?” asked Hester, a leer on her lipsticked mouth. “I’ll help you carry it to your room.”

  Ned noisily spat tobacco juice into his coffee can. That’s when I remembered where I’d heard that same sound before. I got up from the table.

  “Thanks for reminding me, cousin Hester,” I said. “Damned if I didn’t leave my suitcase at the Y. I better go get it right now before some bum swipes it.”

  I promised everyone I’d be back and headed for the front door. As I’d hoped, Agnes followed me out onto the porch.

  “Mr. Hatchett!” Agnes whispered, fiercely. “Where are you going? What are you doing?”

  “My job’s done, Miss Weatherby. Ned’s your man. He stole your bunny and your money.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “When he was under the bridge, swiping the ransom money, I heard him spit tobacco juice. It was exactly the same kind of sloshy spit I’ve heard him make twice in this house. Whoever hit me with his flashlight had some size to him, like Ned. Does he have a car?”

  “Only an old pickup truck. He and Billy own it together. They keep it held together with baling wire. Why?”

  “Where’s the truck now?”

  “Parked on the street. It’s right there, between my DeSoto and that other car.”

  The other car was Tracy’s Chevy.

  “Can they see us from the house?” I asked.

  “Not if they’re still in the dining room.”

  I grabbed my flashlight from the Chevy’s glove box and took a good look at Ned and Billy’s truck. It was an old Ford Model A, a rust bucket. Those old Model A’s only came with one taillight. I studied the tires with my light. They were pretty well worn, but I found some gravel stuck in the treads.

  “That clinches it,” I said, to Agnes. “The car that the rabbit-napper was driving only had one taillight, and the gravel in the tire treads matches what was next to the railroad tracks. If I were you, Miss Weatherby, I’d have Ned’s bedroom searched. I think you’ll find an envelope full of money. Listen, it’s eleven-thirty. I’ve got to get some shuteye.”

  “You can’t leave now. What about Percy?”

  “I’m sure Percy’s just fine. Get Ned to tell you where the rabbit’s hidden. Sic Margot on Ned.”

  “I’ll call you if anything comes up, Mr. Hatchett. If something’s happened to Percy for instance. Thank you for your help.”

  “It was a pleasure.”

  I got in my car and took off. I wanted to put some distance between me and my new cousins. And I wanted to rest my sore head, and have Tracy kiss it.

  3

  I had some whiskey when I got home, and Tracy made a pot of coffee. She cleaned up an ugly cut on my temple, and even the two kittens sat at my feet and mewed. I felt pretty pampered.

  “I’d say you earned your hundred dollars, you poor thing,” said Tracy.

  I’d told Tracy all about my bunny-napping case as soon as Miss Weatherby had hired me. I was happy about it. Tracy wasn’t.

  “You’re taking on a new case? This close to our honeymoon?” she’d complained. “What’s wrong with you, Axe? You’ll ruin everything.”

  “The job’s a cinch,” I’d said. “It won’t take me more than a couple of hours.”

  “You always say that, and you’re always wrong.”

  We’d been talking in Ben and Allie’s Sandwich Shop. It’s in the same building as my office, and we rent the apartment upstairs. Tracy works in the sandwich shop. It all works out pretty slick.

  “I won’t mess up our honeymoon, precious,” I told her. “I promise.”

  It was a slow time of the day for people buying sandwiches. Tracy was mopping the white linoleum floor. She accidently mopped over my shoes. What the hell, they needed polishing anyway.

  “You and your pretty dames!” said Tracy. “You can’t ever say no to them.”

  “Agnes Weatherby is pushing eighty. She’s not exactly a heart-breaker.”

  “We’ll be late for our own honeymoon. I’ll go without you. It’ll be like being stood up at my own wedding.”

  She started bawling. But she wasn’t through talking, not by a long shot. Tracy isn’t one of those girls who are cute when they’re mad. Her face turns red, her eyes squinch up, and her mouth opens as wide as an alligator’s

  “Everything will be fine, fruit cup,” I told her.

  “No it won’t. You’re going to let a rabbit spoil our plans. We’ve been saving up over six month for our honeymoon. I’ve been waiting all this time for us to go to a
dude ranch. Now you’re letting some old lady’s bunny screw things up. Why did that Primus Roan cowboy recommend you anyway? He knew you had plans.”

  “Settle down. I took the case because I thought we could use the extra money for souvenirs and sugar lumps for the horses. Besides, we’ll need some extra cash in case I get bit by a cow and end up in the hospital.”

  “That’d be just like you to get bit by a cow, you big goof. And look at your hat! How many guys do you know with bullet holes in their hats? You’re lucky it’s not been your head.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.”

  I could tell she was winding down. She was out of breath, and a smile was tickling at her lips.

  “OK,” she said. “Go ahead and rescue the rabbit for the poor old lady. But don’t waste any time. And don’t let some smart aleck use you for target practice.”

  “I don’t think the bunny’s packing heat.”

  She’d stopped being mad, and later I went out to sit under a railroad bridge and wait for some dope to pick up Percy’s ransom money. Now I was home again, with a bandaged head, a hundred bucks, and two young cats fussing at a hole in one of my socks.

  “I never want to see another member of the Weatherby family as long as I live,” I told Tracy. “That family’s poison ivy and loco weed combined.”

  It was after midnight before we got to bed. My wife had to be up and in the sandwich shop at six. She worked long hours, and I looked forward to the time when I was making better money and Tracy could take some time off. She’d been working in restaurants since she was a kid.

  I’d been chasing dollars as a shamus for several years and had damned little to show for it. Not for the first time, I thought about getting into another line of work. Still, there’s something about being a private eye that gets in your blood, kind of like lead poisoning.

  At five o’clock in the morning, the damned phone started ringing. While I struggled to wake up, Tracy jumped out of bed and answered it. A moment later, she was back in the bedroom.

  “It’s for you,” she said. “I told her you were sleeping off a bruising, but she insists on talking to you. She sounds old.”

  Damn! Miss Weatherby. I staggered into the living room and grabbed the phone.

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “Mr. Hatchett? This is Agnes Weatherby. I have news about Percy. You were right about Ned. He caught Billy searching his bedroom and made quite a fuss. Billy and Margot managed to tie him to a chair. Ned refused to admit he’d taken the money, though it was found in his dresser drawer, under his pistol. He wouldn’t tell us where Percy was until Hester threatened to scorch his bare feet with a blowtorch. Do you have family, Mr. Hatchett?”

  “Yeah, but they live in other states.”

  “You’re fortunate. Apparently, Ned had a confederate, some gambling and drinking companion who helped him. The miscreant has a sister in Meandering Spruce. He drove Percy down there earlier in the week.”

  “That’s a hundred miles from here.”

  “Yes. Ned wanted to make sure Percy couldn’t be found without help.”

  “Well, I guess you’ll have to drive down to Meandering Spruce and collect your rabbit.”

  “I can’t go down there by myself. I’m afraid of Ned’s confederate. His name is Pug. I can’t face a person with a name like that. I want a man with me.”

  “Take Billy.”

  “That had been my intention, but Billy has a job interview later this morning.”

  “I thought the guy didn’t like to work.”

  “He’s turned over a new leaf.”

  “Sure he has. Listen, wait until his interview is over and then drive down with him to fetch Percy.”

  “I can’t wait that long. I must have my Percy back. What if they’ve starved him?”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. Listen, what do you want from me?”

  “I’m sure you’ve guessed. I want you to accompany me to Meandering Spruce.”

  “I can’t do it. Sorry.”

  “I’ll pay you a hundred dollars.”

  “Just a second.”

  I thought about it. Tracy was hanging around the phone, pretending she wasn’t listening. I covered the mouthpiece.

  “Tracy, Miss Weatherby will give me another hundred dollars if I drive her over to Meandering Spruce to pick up her bunny. It’s easy money, and we could use it on our honeymoon. What do you say?”

  Tracy shook her head.

  “You’ll get sapped again. I want my husband in one piece when we go on our honeymoon.”

  “But it’s almost daylight already. I’ll just be taking a country drive with a little old lady. I’ll be careful. You think I’m going to let myself get waylaid two days in a row?”

  “How long will the trip take you?”

  “A few hours. I should be back before noon.”

  “I wish I could go with you. All right, Axe, but don’t let any of your crazy new cousins go along with you.”

  “It’ll just be me and Miss Weatherby.”

  I spoke into the phone again.

  “Miss Weatherby? You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Oh, I’m so relieved. Hurry over. I’ll be waiting on the porch.”

  “I’ll be at your place as soon as I can.”

  I hung up.

  Tracy made coffee while I climbed into my clothes. I was out the door in less than twenty minutes.

  When I parked my car behind Agnes’s DeSoto, I saw her standing on her porch. She came down the steps as I got out of the Chevy.

  “We’ll take my car,” she told me. “It’s newer. I don’t want any motoring mishaps.”

  She gave me the keys and I helped her into the car, then got in behind the wheel. When I tried starting the DeSoto, nothing happened. Nothing.

  “You been having trouble with this buggy?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not. Billy keeps it in good running order.”

  I got out and popped the hood. The damned battery had been stolen. I gave Agnes the news.

  “One of the hooligan neighbor children must have taken it. Some of them are quite ill mannered. What shall we do now?”

  “We’ll take my jalopy. It runs fine.”

  We switched cars and were soon on our way.

  The drive from Quartz Quarry to Meandering Spruce is a pretty one. The road winds along through the mountains, with the river on one side and forest on the other. It would have been a pleasant trip except for two things: my empty belly, and Agnes’s constantly-spoken fears for Percy’s health.

  “The little guy will be OK,” I told her, for the twentieth time. “Ned knows how much you care for that rabbit.”

  “But does he care himself? He stole five-thousand dollars from me, and he’s made these last few days very harrowing. I have half a mind to throw him out.”

  “You mean you haven’t? You didn’t show him the door and tell him how to use it?”

  “Not yet. I’ve told you before, I’m a woman who can’t say no.”

  “Start practicing.”

  When we finally pulled into Meandering Spruce — a sleepy little town that made its money off of orchards and the occasional tourist — it was close to nine. I’d forgotten how long it takes to drive through the mountains. A hundred miles is a long ways. Agnes fished an address out of her purse and we asked for directions from a cop who was standing around on a street corner waiting for a crime to happen. The house we were looking for was a shabby-looking duplex on the far edge of town. We got out of the car and headed for the front door together. Agnes was practically gasping with anticipation.

  I rang the bell and the door was opened almost at once by a middle-aged fat woman with unfortunate hair.

  “We’re here for the rabbit,” I told her.

  “About damn time. I’ll go get him,” she said, and closed the door.

  I turned to Miss Weatherby.

  “Do you want to press charges?” I asked.

  “Certainly not! I only want this nightmare over with. I’m n
ot pressing charges against anyone, not even Ned. He’s family.”

  “Pug and his girlfriend aren’t your family.”

  “I dare not involve them with the law. Ned might get caught-up in the investigation.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  The door opened again, and the woman with the coonskin hair pushed a big cardboard box out onto the cement stoop. Agnes leaned over and undid the box flaps. A pink-nosed rabbit blinked out at her and wiggled its nose.

  “Percy! Darling! Are you all right?”

  She pulled the bunny out of his box and hugged him to her lavender-scented bosom.

  “I had nothing to do with any of this,” said the fat dame. “It was all Pug’s idea. Him and that Ned. I swear.”

  “It doesn’t matter, dear,” Agnes told her. “You aren’t in any trouble. Thank you for watching after my Percy.”

  “I gave him some canned spinach, but he wouldn’t eat it.”

  “I should think not. I’ve got a proper meal for him in my purse.”

  We got back into the Chevy and I drove around looking for an eatery. Agnes held Percy on her lap and fed him from a sack of greens she had stuffed in her purse. Finally, we hove into view of Mitsy’s Burger Palace, a little shack by the side of the road where you could sit in your car and eat a lot of grease. I demolished two cheeseburgers and a mountain of fries, plus two cups of coffee. Agnes said she was too nervous to eat.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Hatchett,” she told me, while she kept stuffing lettuce and radish tops into Percy’s willing mouth. “I must admit, I had my doubts about you for a while there.”

  “That’s OK, so did I. Listen, let’s head home.”

  I pulled the car back onto the main road and we began the long drive to Quartz Quarry. Despite the coffee, I was feeling pretty tired, and my skull was still giving me fits. Agnes fished in her purse and brought out two hundred dollar bills and pushed them at me.

  I shook my head.

  “The deal was for one hundred,” I said.

  “You earned the extra. I know you got hurt, and you were put to a great deal of bother. Please.”

  “Nope. A hundred’s plenty. I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. By the way, is Percy housebroken?”

  “Of course he is. He can even make barking noises like a dog. He’s quite exceptional.”