Too Many Crooks Spoil the Plot

by Sarah Osborne

  Lurleen looked thoughtful. “She must be scared,” she said. “I know—not from personal experience, mind you, just from what people have told me—that sometimes a kid is threatened into keeping secrets.”

  “I know that too from my work,” I said. I looked at Lurleen, and I wondered for a moment if she might be talking about herself. She never mentioned her childhood and changed the subject whenever I asked about it.

  Before I could continue, my cell phone rang. It was Tommy.

  “Hi, Mabel. Didn’t hear from you, so I’m calling you back. You thought about my plan?”

  “I’ve been busy, Tommy. There’s a lot going on here. A lot of bad stuff. You remember Ellie Winston?”

  Tommy, never at a loss for words, was silent for a couple of beats. “Sure I remember Ellie. The girl you were glued to growing up? The one who wouldn’t give me the time of day? Yeah, I remember her.”

  “Well, she died. She was murdered two days ago. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.” Tommy wasn’t exactly an ambulance chaser, but he did keep up with people who might need his services. He was always on the lookout for a case that would put him on the news as an up-and-coming Alan Dershowitz. “Oh, no,” was all he said.

  “I’ve got her two kids with me.”

  “I’m sorry, Mabel. Do the police know who did it?”

  “No.”

  I filled him in on what the police did know. “Don’t spread it around that the kids are with me, okay? I’m just not sure how safe they are.”

  “Who would I tell? Of course I won’t say anything,” Tommy said. “If I can help, let me know. I really liked Ellie.” He sounded genuinely sad.

  “So did I. Thanks. I haven’t thought any more about your proposal, but my answer won’t change. I’m not selling the farm.”

  “Let’s talk about that later. Let me know if I can help you out. I could babysit, whatever you need.”

  “Babysit? You, Tommy? I’ve never seen you around kids.”

  “You underestimate me, Mabel. You always have. You think I only care about myself, but you’ve got that wrong.”

  I did think Tommy cared entirely about himself. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try to revise my view. How about dinner tomorrow night, so the kids can meet you and then we’ll see about your babysitting later on.”

  “Let me check my calendar.” Silence. “Sorry, Mabe. Can’t do it tomorrow. Booked. Booked all week, but next week looks good.”

  “Next week they may not even be with me. I gotta go.” I hung up on him.

  Lurleen gave me that look that said she understood about siblings even though she didn’t have one.

  “I just don’t get Tommy,” I said. “One minute I think maybe he really does have empathy for other people, like when I told him about Ellie. He sounded genuinely upset. Then he offers to help and takes it back as soon as I ask him to follow through.”

  “He’s a man with secrets,” Lurleen said to me. “Maybe someday he’ll share them with you.” She swept crumbs off her lap and gave me her full attention. “Now, tell me about everything I missed in your conversations with Detective Garrett, or should I say Mason?” She smiled innocently at me.

  “Some men were threatening Ellie. The note we found in Jason’s Transformer—on a Sandler’s note pad—warned her that the kids would be harmed if she didn’t give them what they wanted. Lucie described one of the men—someone named William with a scar along his forehead.”

  Lurleen put her half-eaten cake down on a side table near the swing. “How does Sandler’s figure into this?”

  “I don’t know. Ellie said she used to work at Sandler’s and they were going to make her a nice severance offer. I mentioned that you used to work there, but she said she didn’t know you.”

  Lurleen ran a hand through her thick hair and pushed a few auburn curls behind her ear. “I have a good friend, Marie Vanderling, who still works there. She knows everyone and everything. Whenever anyone left Sandler’s, Marie said another one had gotten ‘over the wall.’ I felt bad about leaving Marie behind, but I think she has her own reasons for staying. And she can help us now.”

  “Help us?” I said.

  “Solve the murder of course. Marie loves intrigue. She has the scoop on everyone at Sandler’s, and she’ll be glad to help us. You can be Nancy Drew and I’ll be your faithful sidekick. Nancy did have a sidekick, didn’t she? Remember, you and I watched that old movie of hers, Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase.”

  “I think the sidekick was named Ned.”

  “A minor problem.”

  “Lurleen, this is too dangerous to play around with. Two children have lost their mother. They may be at risk.”

  “Point taken. I sometimes get carried away. It’s just that I have access. Access that Detective Garrett might not have. And I didn’t tell you the most vital piece of information.”

  She waited for effect. I waited too. It was a standoff between old friends.

  “All right, I give,” I said after several seconds. “What is your vital information?”

  “Lucie mentioned a man named William with a scar. I know one man with a scar like that, and his name is Billy Joe Sandler. We used to call him the Triple B, for Bad Boy Billy. He’s William Sandler’s grandson. At one point he was being groomed to become the next CEO, but that was before he got into all kinds of trouble.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Drugs, alcohol. Small stuff. Although I did hear he beat someone to a pulp in a bar. That almost got him put in jail for a while. Sandler Senior got sick of his bad behavior.”

  “Wow!” I said. “You think he’s William?”

  “Has to be. Probably trying to seem more grown-up with a new name. But a new name doesn’t change old behavior. Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose. He’s the same old Billy Joe.”

  “We have to tell Mason,” I said.

  “Right. Mason.”

  “Detective Garrett.”

  “By all means.”

  I dialed his number. He didn’t pick up, so I left a message.

  When I was done, Lurleen took both my hands. “I think he’s lovely,” she said. “Your detective,” she added when I gave her a blank look. “And I will plan the wedding.”

  “Don’t you think that’s jumping the gun a bit?” I asked.

  “Why? Is he married? Do we have to go through a troublesome divorce?”

  “His wife died a few years ago,” I said. “But I’ve known him two days.”

  “I see,” Lurleen said. “Of course, for the French this would not be a problem. You’d have an affair, see where things went, and decide later if this was a permanent or temporary relationship. But you Americans are so much more cautious.”

  “We Americans?”

  “You know what I mean, chérie. I may be American by birth but certainly not by temperament.”

  I nodded my agreement and smiled. “You really like him?” I said.

  “Ooh la la, I think he’s perfect. For you, that is. He’s not my type, so no worry there. I like my men a little more out there. And your Detective Garrett is quite self-contained. Steady I would say. Kind.”

  Lurleen was a very good judge of character.

  “I like him too,” I said. “But I can’t think about a relationship right now, and I haven’t had good luck with men.”

  “What are you talking about? Sure, you had that ridiculous date from Match.com, but who cares about that? And then there was someone else, I forget his name, who soured you on all men. That was years ago, and I could have told you he wasn’t a keeper.”

  “You mean Phil Brockton?”

  “That was his name. Phillip Brockton the fifteenth or something like that.”

  “Phil Brockton the fourth. What do you mean you knew he wasn’t a keeper?”

  “Phil was always about Phil. And so
serious about the Civil War. Of course, the ‘War of Northern Aggression’ will never be over—not if you live in the south. But Phil took it to a ridiculous level. Dressing up like a Civil War general—”

  “Colonel,” I said. “His great-, great-, great-grandfather was a colonel in Cobb’s Legion. Phil’s uniform has buttons from the colonel’s coat.”

  “I rest my case, chérie. He spent more time traveling to Civil War plays than he ever did with you.”

  “They’re called reenactments, not plays,” I said. “And plenty of people spend their lives doing that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for their wives if they have them.”

  “I thought you liked Phil.”

  Lurleen shook her head. “Not really. I didn’t say anything because you seemed to love him, but you deserved much more. When he left, I thought, Good riddance, bon debarras. Don’t repeat that—it’s very rude in French, but it’s the right expression for him. I didn’t know you’d be so crushed and give up on men all together. It’s a terrible waste, Ditie. You have so much to offer.”

  “Speaking of Phil, I got a letter from him two days ago. He’s coming to Atlanta sometime soon.”

  “You’re not going to see him!”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Ditie, how can you be so clearheaded about so many things and so totally confused about this man? Here is Detective Garrett, ready and willing. And you think about Phil Brockton?”

  “I did throw away his letter. Maybe that will be the end of it.” I studied her. “How do you know so much about Detective Garrett and his intentions?”

  “I saw the way he looked at you during the party. I’ll bet he wants to take you out.” She smiled. “I can tell by the look on your face I’m right.”

  “It’s the wrong time. He said so too.”

  Before I could say more, Lucie appeared at the door with Jason beside her. Lurleen and I made room for them on the swing. I cuddled Jason, and Lurleen put an arm around Lucie.

  “I bet you two are hungry for dinner,” I said. “I wondered if you were going to sleep all night. Why don’t we go out to eat? After all, it’s still Jason’s birthday. Would you like that?”

  Both children nodded enthusiastically.

  “How about the Varsity?”

  The children stared at me as if I were speaking Swahili.

  “The Varsity? Hot dogs? Onion rings? What’ll ya have? What’ll ya have?”

  No signs of recognition.

  “Okay. Well, the Varsity is a tradition in Atlanta. They claim to be the biggest drive-in restaurant in the world. We’ll make it a birthday tradition. Maybe Lurleen will join us.” I looked over the children’s heads at Lurleen.

  “Ah, I would love to, mes chéries, but I am stuffed like a French sausage. No room.” She patted her flat belly. “Remember, I will pick you up after school tomorrow and then the fun we’ll have!”

  We all got up at once. Lurleen kissed each of us on both cheeks and we watched as she folded her long legs into her tiny Citroën and drove off down the street.

  I asked if the children were ready to go, and Jason looked at me.

  “Can Mommy come with us? I want to wait until she comes home. She’ll be hungry.”

  “Oh, Jason,” I said, sitting back down on the swing. He climbed onto my lap.

  “Mommy missed my birthday party,” he said, and with that he started to cry. Lucie wasn’t far behind. She cuddled next to me, rubbing her eyes and her nose from time to time. I grabbed some tissues out of the box on the table next to the swing. One for Jason, one for Lucie, and one for me.

  We didn’t talk. We just sat in the swing, barely moving, crying our eyes out. Hermione joined us, aware that something was terribly wrong, and settled at our feet. Even Majestic jumped up on the swing next to Lucie and crept onto her lap. We were as sad as we could be, but we were a family. I knew at that moment that I couldn’t bear to let these children go, and I prayed to God I wouldn’t have to.

  Chapter Six

  The kids woke up early the next morning. I could hear them talking in the breakfast nook. Lucie was telling Jason to sit down and be quiet. It was six a.m. My alarm was set to go off in fifteen minutes. I jumped up, grabbed my bathrobe, and headed for the kitchen.

  “You’re up early.” I gave them each a kiss. “What have you done, Lucie? I was going to make breakfast—you didn’t have to.”

  “Oh, I always make breakfast,” Lucie said. “My mom sleeps in, and I get me and Jason ready for school.” She hesitated, and I could see she was trying not to cry. “Jason, take your bowl to the sink and brush your teeth.” She spoke in a voice that could have been Ellie’s, and Jason did as he was told.

  “May I have some cereal along with you?”

  “Yes. Do you want toast, Aunt Di? My mom always had toast and black coffee.” Lucie teared up.

  I hugged her and stroked her hair. She leaned against me and let me treat her like the sad little girl she was.

  “I miss my mom,” she cried. “She didn’t say goodbye to me.”

  “I miss her too. The last thing she said to me was about you and Jason—how much she loved you and that she wanted me to keep you safe.”

  Lucie dried her eyes with the back of her hand. “She said I was a very good cook.”

  “I couldn’t make anything except chocolate chip cookies when I was your age. I think cereal will be fine for me this morning. Some Cheerios and maybe a banana and some milk. I’ll get it.”

  “No, Aunt Di, I’ll get it for you.” Lucie dashed to the refrigerator, brought out the carton of milk, and put it on the table. She handed me a banana and placed a bowl and spoon in front of me.

  “You are going to make me very lazy.”

  She smiled and sat down beside me. “Is there a bus we can take to school, Aunt Di?”

  “There probably is, but I’m going to drive you. And remember Lurleen is going to pick you up after school. Wait for her in the office. I’ll let the principal and teachers know about that. Can you pick Jason up at his classroom?”

  “Of course.” Lucie gave me a look. “You know, Aunt Di, we can walk home.”

  I shook my head. “I know you can, but Lurleen wants to pick you up and you’ll stay with her until I get home.”

  Jason came back into the breakfast room in time to hear our conversation. “I want my mommy to pick me up,” he said.

  “Hush,” Lucie said. “Mommy is far away. She can’t pick you up.”

  Jason came over and climbed onto my lap. “When will she come home?” he asked me.

  I rocked him. “Your mommy can’t come home. I’m sorry, baby.”

  Jason sat up. “I’m not a baby. I’m Superman. I will bring her home. You’ll see.”

  He jumped off my lap and headed to the bedroom where his Superman and Spider-Man were undoubtedly waiting for him. Lucie got up and didn’t seem to know if she should follow him or clean up in the kitchen.

  “I’ll clean up. You help Jason. We’ll leave in half an hour.”

  The kids were ready ten minutes before I was. Lucie had a backpack by the door for each of them. She gathered them up, took Jason’s hand, and waited while I opened the door and ushered them outside. I locked the door and headed for my Corolla.

  Parked down the street I saw a magnificent matte-black Dodge Ram. I nudged Jason whose eyes grew wide at the sight of the truck. It was a real beauty built for off-road capacity, something my father would have loved. I could hear the conversation he’d have had with my mother: “Need a new truck for the farm—might as well be a looker.” And I could hear my mother’s disdainful response: “Nonsense, George. Won’t stay new for half a minute. Not the way we work our trucks. A waste of good money.” She was right, of course, but right wasn’t always fun, and I don’t think my dad got to have much fun on the farm.

  “Maybe it’s time
I get a new car,” I said to both of them.

  Jason’s eyes lit up, but Lucie shook her head.

  “I love your car,” Lucie said. “I remember it from the time we stayed with you in Florida.”

  “You have a very good memory. It’s ten years old. Older than you. I hang onto things as long as I can.” Maybe I had a little more of my mother in me than I cared to admit.

  “Me too,” Lucie said, as she climbed into the car. “See my locket? My mom gave me that and told me to keep it safe forever.”

  “It’s beautiful, Luce. What’s inside it?”

  Lucie carefully opened it up and showed me the miniature pictures. “It’s a picture of Mom and Dad when they didn’t fight all the time.”

  I held Lucie’s hand as I studied the pictures. Ellie, smiling, looked beautiful. John, also smiling, looked the way I remembered him—round face, glasses, and hair as blond as Lucie’s. Briefly I wondered where Jason got his dark hair and complexion. “I’m glad you have that, Lucie.” I closed the case.

  “Everyone buckled?” I asked before I got in the driver’s seat. They were. As we pulled out of the driveway, the Dodge truck roared to life. The driver tailgated me to the light at Highland. That was weird. I made a right turn. He gunned his engine and stayed behind me. I looked in my rearview mirror, but all I could see were tinted windows.

  Something was terribly wrong. I felt my grip tighten on the steering wheel, my focus sharpen. It was the feeling I had when I entered the room of a very sick child. You knew in an instant that something wasn’t right.

  I took a quick right turn onto a side street to see if the truck was following us.

  I didn’t have to wait long. He turned, barely missing my back fender. I pulled over in front of a house, hoping he’d drive past. Instead, he pulled up beside me and lowered the passenger-side window. He shouted something, but I couldn’t make out what he said over the revving engine. I craned my neck to get a better look and thought I saw someone in the passenger seat. The driver pulled ahead of me to block me in. He had a gun rack on the back of the truck with two shiny rifles.