by Mac Flynn
I was hit with an idea, and scrambled to my feet over to the gnome. The boys conveniently fought their way over to me as I grabbed the gnome by the hat and waited for their coming. Tanner managed to get the high ground and atop John's chest, where Tanner pinned him to the ground with his body weight. Tanner pulled his fist back to start a volley of blows when one conked him on the head. He slid off John and onto the ground, unconscious and unfortunately alive.
John quickly sat up, but I collapsed on my knees beside Monroe. "Poor little guy..." I murmured.
John whipped his head over to me and frowned. "You're not sorry for him, are you?"
I snapped my head up and glared at him. "Not this jerk." To emphasize my point I dug my knee into his side. Then I pointed at the ground around his body. "I smashed poor Gnomy!" The remains of the gnome lay scattered on the ground, a testament to his bravery in sacrificing himself for us.
John smiled and patted me on the back. He was battered and bruised, but unlike Gnomy he'd make it. "I'd like to think he sacrificed himself for a great cause."
I snorted. "Oh, I suppose it was worth it." John helped me up and we glanced down at the unconscious man. "So, uh, what do we do with him now?" At that moment we heard car tires on gravel, and a police car drove up the driveway. I smirked and glanced up at John. "You were saying something about the police earlier?"
He shrugged. "Better late than never."
The cops parked and got out to survey the chaos; the broken car window and the unconscious intruder. One of them glanced at the other. "That explains the abandoned car at the entrance to the driveway."
We gave them the story on how Tanner ended up on the ground covered in gnome guts, and they dragged him into the car. I was so happy to see him leave the yard, and hopefully my life, that I gleefully waved goodbye to his prostrate form leaning back in the rear seat. John wrapped an arm around my shoulders and glanced down at me with a smile. "I don't know how I ever survived that boring life I had before you came."
I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm one exciting gal."
After that spurt of activity we didn't do what any two sensible people would do; we got out John's secret stash of fine booze and enjoyed ourselves until we collapsed in the living room surrounded by stacks and piles of clear, empty liquor bottles. That's where Cecil found us the next morning, or at least I think it was Cecil. I couldn't quite make out the pair of him standing sternly over me as I lay on the couch with a hangover the size of Alaska.
"Is this how you celebrate all your victories?" he wondered.
I sat up and cringed when the glare of the overhead light hit my slitted eyes. "Only when we're too tired to make out."
"As glad as I am to hear that your romantic relationship is going well, I think that might be too much information," he replied. I swung my legs over the side of the couch, and there was a garbled sound from the floor when my feet hit something hard. "And now Sleeping Beauty awakens," Cecil added.
"Not so loud, and shut that light off..." John grumbled.
"Many of us don't have as great an ability to see in the dark as yourself, John, so sit up and get used to it," Cecil ordered.
John did as he was told, but ran his hand through his messy hair and scowled at his uncle. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard from sources about your troubles last night and wanted to comfort you." Cecil picked up an empty bottle and glanced between the sad sight and us. "It seems you found other sources."
John shrugged; his half-dead wakefulness self wasn't bothered by his uncle's usual sarcastic remarks. "We're comforted, so why are you still here?"
"There's a gentleman outside who also wants to give his condolences, but I don't think you'll give him the warm welcome you've given me."
John snapped out of his alcohol-induced stupor; mine upgraded to an industrial-sized headache. "Who?"
"Our old friend, Mr. Monroe," Cecil told him.
That name made us both groan, and John glared at his relative. "Could I ask a favor of you?"
"Always, my dearest nephew."
"And only nephew," John reminded him, "but could you keep him distracted in the study for a few minutes? I need a few minutes to gather my wits."
"That long?" Cecil quipped. John scowled at him, and Cecil defensively held up his hands, though there was a smile on his face. "I will do as you bid, John, but you owe me quite the favor." Cecil left to deal with the devil, and I was left behind and confused.
"Why didn't you just ask Cecil to get rid of him?" I asked John.
"Because this will make it easier for us to set the trap for Monroe and Sievers," John pointed out. "We can skip the mailbox and tempt him in the study. I can even show him where I'm going to put the 'precious' documents."
I smirked. "Need any help?"
"Only if you want to watch me set the trap on a mouse."
"Rat."
"I stand corrected, but did you want to watch?"
"Do pigs fly?"
"No."
"Well, I want to watch anyway."
We moved from the planning stage into the moving stage, and moved ourselves to the study. There we found Cecil distracting Monroe with a riveting conversation about insecticides. Monroe looked frightened for Cecil's sanity, or looked frightened Cecil was planning his next move on him. The little bug looked relieved when we entered, as did Cecil. He wrapped up the conversation. "I'm afraid I have to leave. Perhaps I can finish explaining the effects of insecticides on bugs another time," Cecil told Monroe.
"I'll be waiting," Monroe replied with a shaky smile.
Cecil walked past us and paused beside John; his smile changed to a wicked grin. "He's all yours." Cecil left us to our evil genius plan.
Monroe straightened his suit and glanced over to me. "I know I'm not particularly welcome here-" or at all, "-but I heard the horrible news and had to come to see how you were feeling after such a terrifying ordeal."
Word sure did travel fast in John's circles. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Monroe, but you didn't have to go to all the trouble of coming out here," I insisted. I was pleased I'd been able to keep down my breakfast through all those sickeningly sweet words.
John stepped in front of me to appease his jealous nature and smiled at the little rat in front of us; the effect was frightening to puppies and small children. "It was fortunate we were able to keep him from the house. I have a few important documents that won't fit in the safe," John told him.
"You should hide those someplace safe," Monroe suggested.
"The safe is full, I'll have to find another place," John replied.
The corners of Monroe's lips twitched into a temporary frown, but he turned that upside down and glanced around the room. "Perhaps there is some secret place in this room. I believe you accused me of finding one somewhere in here where important documents were hidden."
John waved his hand to wipe away Monroe's accusation, or the smell of his breath. "He was no doubt the source of our problems, and without him we'll have no more trouble with missing documents."
"Then I suppose you'll have a police presence for some nights?" Monroe mused.
John shook his head. "No. With the culprit caught there's no need, and they'll be safe here on the desk with the doors locked and windows shut as tightly as they can be. Miss Calhoun will need to go to the police this evening to give another statement, and I plan on going with her to add anything the police might want."
Monroe smiled and bowed his head at us. "I see you two are perfectly fine, and I've wasted enough of your time. I hope after this incident we'll be better friends."
John's teeth ground together so hard I saw sparks fly. "Certainly, my good man. Let's shake on it." They shook hands, and Monroe left with an excuse of business.
We waved him off at the front porch, and when his car had sped away I glanced down at John's hand. He held it very stiffly, and I pointed at the limb. "Is that going to be okay?"
"Only after I disinfect it," he replied.
"And
chop it off?"
"If I can't get the disgusting tingle of his flesh off of it."
I leaned up against him and put my hands on his chest. "I'd rather you didn't. I happen to like that one."
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Why do you happen to like that one?"
"Well, it has some very nice fingers," I cooed.
John wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer. "And?"
"And some very nice veins."
"And?"
"And you need it to write with."
John sighed and shook his head. "And here I thought I was getting somewhere with you."
I slyly whisked my finger over his chin. "Maybe you were, but not right now. Now you need to focus on what you're going to do if-"
"-when," he corrected me.
"-when he comes around, and what we're going to do if he brings his cohort," I finished. I noticed a mischievous look in his eyes. "Does this have anything to do with what you told Monroe about me going to make another statement with you as a tag-along? You know I don't have to go anywhere."
John leaned down and brushed his nose against mine. "But Monroe doesn't know that," he gleefully told me.
"My hamster wheel is turning, but it's just running in circles."
"I'm going to keep you as my trump card, Angel. That will leave one more person in the house that they don't know is here, and I plan on using you as my Plan B in case trouble will come."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm pretty sure you just set us up for some trouble, but I suppose you're just useless without me."
CHAPTER 11
The day crept by and night came on again. We put my new car in the garage and had the old one hauled away by the police for evidence impound, and close to sunset we drove away in John's car. A few miles down the road he had me turn off onto a side road where the car was hidden behind some thick bushes. From there we hoofed it back to the house and waited for our prey. We left the lights out to avoid our silhouettes being seen from outside, which made for some interesting predicaments.
"Ouch!"
"Careful there," John whispered.
For once I had a scowl to kill; if only I could have seen my target. "That's easy for you to say. You don't have any problems wandering around here without lights."
"I sometimes have-ooph. Problems."
"I hope that hurt."
"Nearly took off the family jewels."
"Ouch."
"Yeah, I know."
"No, I just ran into something else. Are you steering me into these things?"
"No, they seem to be growing up from the floor. Why don't I get a better grip on you?" John was only too happy to oblige me and himself. I felt his hands wander into the southern hemisphere of my body.
"Hands off the merchandise, mister, this isn't a blackout sale," I warned him.
His hands slipped off me and grasped mine. "Merely trying to help."
"Help yourself, you mean. How about we sit down and stop wandering through the house?"
"Good idea." John led me into the kitchen and we cautiously plopped down on the stools. "Much more comfortable."
I shifted a little and nearly toppled over, but my hands caught the side of the island. "Yeah, just great. How long do you think we're going to have to sit here?"
"Isn't a diner waitress used to sitting on stools?" he teased me.
"This diner waitress' posterior is out of shape, so how long?"
"Perhaps a few hours, perhaps-"
We both heard a groan of boards from upstairs; someone was torturing the floor with their weight. I saw John's dark shape slip off his stool and steal over to the door that led to a connecting passage between the kitchen and the far hall. It ran next to the laundry room, and had a clear view of anyone who wanted to get into the study from any place in the house other than the back door.
I slunk after him and looked over his shoulder. My heart pumped faster when, against the wall, crept a shadow of a small personage. They brushed past the passage, and soon we heard the back door open. Then there were two sets of soft footsteps, and they retreated into the study. The sound of rustling paper hit our ears, along with soft voices.
John snuck down the passage with me at his heels, and we peeked around the corner across the hall where the desk lamp shined the way to our prey like a lighthouse beacon. Through the open study door we watched Monroe and Sievers rummage through everything except the safe and the kitchen sink. Monroe had a briefcase with him, and with gloved hands they stuffed papers by the armload into the case.
I felt John stiffen in front of me; his hands balled into fists and his grinding was loud enough to sound like car tires hastily braking. He marched across the hall as silent as a panicked herd of buffalo, and stampeded right into Monroe. Monroe was so shocked by the pair of pale hands around his throat that he let out a shriek any alto would have been proud of. He writhed and screamed in John's grasp, but Sievers recognized Monroe's assailant. She grabbed the desk lamp and would have given John a not-so-bright idea if I hadn't rushed in and grabbed her arms.
The lamp went flying, leaving us struggling with one another in the dark. The men fell onto the floor and rolled about the place knocking into the bottoms of furniture while we women went one step further in self-punishment. We clawed and pulled on each others' clothes and hair, and knocked our hips into every sharp, pointy piece of furniture that was within a three mile radius. By the time I wrestled Sievers to the ground my future as a mother was jeopardized. It also made the floor very crowded, and the men rolled over us more than once.
In all the chaos, confusion and calamity, somebody had the bright idea of switching on the lights overhead. We were all blinded for a moment, and when we heard someone clear their voices all our heads snapped over to the door. Cecil stood there with a bemused expression on his face. "If I were a stranger this would appear incriminating for more than two of you." I glanced at Sievers and down at myself. Our clothes were have torn off, and the boys' suits didn't look much better. John would be thrilled to see me when he was done throwing dagger glares at Monroe. Cecil stepped into the room and picked up a few items that had fallen from the desk. "Perhaps an explanation is in order from our two uninvited guests." John and I were too relieved to see him to point out he was a third.
The four of us stood and Sievers sidled up to Monroe with guilty looks on both their faces. John glared at both of them. "I can answer your question, Cecil. This pair sought to steal important documents not knowing that there were no important documents. This was a trap we set for them."
Monroe's face twisted into a hideous scowl; I'd have to remember that look for my next Halloween mask. "You bastard," he murmured.
John stepped up to him so their noses nearly touched. "And you're lower than even that, but I will make you a deal." That surprised everyone in the room, not least of which was Monroe.
"What sort of deal?" the thief asked.
"You can leave this house, and the company, tonight, and I won't press charges," John told him.
Monroe's eyes widened. "Leave the company? You mean resign?"
"Exactly, and I expect to see what you've stolen returned to me via mail within the week," John added. "Otherwise I'll be forced to inform the police of your crimes."
Monroe sneered. "Trying to save the reputation of your precious company?"
"And yours. If you acquire such a distinguished list of crimes as you've committed then you won't be able to work in an investing house for a long time." John turned to Sievers. "The same offer applies to you, and I don't want to see either of your faces within ten miles of my home again. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Sievers hissed.
The pair filed out, though not before Monroe tried to remove his briefcase from the scene of the crime. John slammed his hand down on top of the case. "Leave this here until I have a chance to go through the contents. After that maybe I'll return it using the return address on the envelope you send to me with my missing papers."
Monroe growled
and marched out of the room. The front door slammed behind the pair, and after so many minutes I remembered to breathe. John, too, was exhausted from the struggle and righted his chair before he collapsed into it. Cecil smiled and clapped his hands. "Very well done, John. I don't believe I could have made a better threat."
"Hopefully it's enough..." John muttered.
"Oh, I think it will be." Cecil righted the opposite chair and offered it to me; I was glad to fall into that one while he took another one. "He doesn't care so much about the company as he does with his aspirations for power, and will do anything to keep his reputation spotless. At least as far as the police are concerned." Cecil ran his hand over the abandoned briefcase bursting with papers. "And it seems you've acquired a very nice briefcase, and with no initials."
"No doubt to deny ownership if he was found with the contents," John pointed out.
"Or blame Sievers," I added.
"Then she would get what she deserves," John spoke up. "Betrayal for betrayal." He glanced over at Cecil. "Though speaking of spies, what are you doing here again?"
"I was merely in the neighborhood and worried about the lack of lights on in the house," Cecil innocently replied.
"I'm starting to think you live here," John quipped.
"I'm starting to think I should live here, if only to keep you two out of trouble," Cecil countered.
I smiled. "I don't think anything would do that-"
"-and you still didn't answer my question," John insisted.
"Well, I have a few informants-"
"A few?" I teased him.
"Yes, well, in this case only a few were involved," Cecil corrected himself. "But as I was saying, I was tipped off to the pair going out for an evening drive that happened to send them in your direction, and I thought I'd better follow them to see if they needed directions out of these labyrinthine roads."
"That was very kind of you," I laughed.
Cecil smirked. "Yes, I thought so, but it seems the pair weren't too thrilled to see me, or you two."
"No, Monroe expected an empty house, and what he received were empty hands," John agreed.
Cecil stood and groaned. "After all this excitement I'm afraid I shall retire early for the night. Can you two stay out of trouble long enough for this old man to get some sleep?"
