Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery)

by Elaine Macko

  I made a quick call to Terry Roder and ended up leaving a message on his machine. I set the kitchen table and Meme served the soup with a large loaf of crusty bread and lots of butter.

  “I think it went well,” Francis said. “What time do you think it’ll go down?”

  We sounded like a bunch of cops on one of those police shows.

  “John said probably late, when it was nice and quiet and everyone around was asleep, but he’ll probably have his men in place soon.”

  We ate our soup in silence and I debated whether or not to share what I had seen? And if I was wrong? Maybe the person didn’t want that aspect of their life shared with the rest of the group. No, I would keep it to myself until I heard from my husband.

  “You’re awfully quiet, honey,” Meme said.

  “Just thinking.”

  A worried look clouded my grandmother’s face. “You think it’s one of the calendar boys, don’t you, and you don’t want us to know. Tell me it’s not Fred.” Meme loved her friends, but she, along with the rest of us, had a soft spot for generic Viagra Fred.

  I placed a hand over Meme’s chubby one. “I’m fairly certain it’s not one of them.”

  “You know something. I can see it on your face.”

  I shook my head. “No, I think something, I’m not sure of anything. Let’s just wait.”

  There was no sense in going back to work. I had already let Millie and Sam know I wouldn’t be in today. No way could I get any work done, knowing what I now felt I knew and waiting for the whole thing to come to a head. So we did what we always did in situations like this—we played cards and drank tea. I even had a bag of M&M’s in my car that I brought in and poured into a bowl.

  About three-forty my sister showed up with Kendall and Henry. Both kids ran straight for Meme and wrapped their little arms around her ample waist. Meme liked nothing better than when Sam brought the kids over.

  Henry started to reach for the bowl of candy and then saw the stern look on his mother’s face. “May I have some, Mom?”

  “Okay. But just a few. We’re having your favorite for dinner—chicken cutlets and noodles with carrots and a salad.”

  Henry’s interpretation of a few clearly differed with my sister’s.

  “Give some of those to your sister. I don’t want you eating all of them. You’re hyper enough as it is.”

  Henry moved around the table giving everyone a hug and a kiss until he got to me. I wrapped my arms around him, while Kendall came up to my other side and kissed me on the cheek. My sister really lucked out with these two.

  “Auntie, you have two aces. Is that good?”

  It was Meme’s turn to discard. “Thanks, kiddo. I think I’ll keep this little ace I have here to myself.”

  “Henry, you’re not supposed to tell anyone what I have,” I lightly pinched his little arm and he started to giggle.

  “But you have all those pretty cards with the faces on them.”

  I looked at my sister and rolled my eyes. “Shall I tickle him or do you want the pleasure?” I held my nephew close while I tickled any bit I could grab.

  “What’s that noise?” Henry asked a couple seconds later.

  “It’s my phone. Sam, hand me my purse.” She passed it over and I pulled out the tiny cell. “John, is that you? I can hardly hear you. What? Hostages? Oh my God.” I listened for another minute. “Be careful. I love you.” I closed the phone and looked around the table. “There’s a hostage situation in Lodendale. A father’s got his wife and three kids in the house and he’s threatening to kill them all.” This last bit came out without thinking. I looked at the kids. They were watching me with huge eyes. “It’s okay, guys. Uncle John’s got it all under control.”

  “Hey, why don’t you two go into the living room and see what kind of good stuff Meme’s got on cable.”

  “You don’t want us watching cable cuz of all the phonographic stuff?”

  “Pornographic.” Sam gave Henry her look. “Go.”

  I waited until I heard the TV go on and then continued. “Looks like the sting is off for tonight, but he said it was no big deal, he knew who the killer was and would pick them up later.”

  “So who is it?” Sam asked.

  I shrugged “He didn’t say. As a matter of fact I had no idea he was even close to knowing. Damn police and all their resources.”

  “So what now?” Theresa asked.

  I leaned forward on the table, grabbed a couple of candies and smiled. “Now we switch to Plan B.”

  Chapter 69

  Of course, truth be told, Plan B was what I wanted all along. I pulled Shirley’s card out of my purse and called her. After a couple of minutes I hung up and looked at the anxious faces. “Perfect. She’ll meet me here and then we’ll drive over to the Bryson home. There’s a place to park a few blocks away and we can hike in along the beach.”

  “We’re coming with you,” Meme said.

  I shook my head quickly. “No. There’s not enough room in the secret closet for all of us and besides, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “And I don’t want you getting hurt,” Sam said. “And what about your RA? You’re not physically fit to make an escape.”

  “Stop, I’m fine. See?” I wiggled my fingers and stretched my arms above my head. “All limber and in good working order. And besides, Shirley has a gun.”

  “Oh dear God!” My sister looked like she might faint.

  “I’m kidding. I mean, yes, she does have a gun, but trust me, we won’t need it. All the killer wants is the art. I seriously doubt any guns or other kinds of weapons will be involved.”

  “I think the three of us should be out on the beach in case we hear any screams or gun shots.”

  “Meme, you need to stay here. It’s freezing outside. Shirley’s done this kind of thing before. This is what she does for a living.”

  “Kids, come on. We’re leaving,” Sam called out. “And you,” she pointed one of her long fingers at me. “Keep your phone on and call me right away at the first sign of trouble. Better yet, call me so I can listen in.”

  “Sam, we need to be quiet so we don’t give ourselves away.”

  She tried to talk me out of it for another ten minutes, but a knock at the door stopped her.

  I introduced Shirley to everyone. I could see Meme and Theresa and Francis sizing her up.

  My sister walked right up to Shirley and for a moment I thought she was going to slap her across the face, but instead she said, “My sister better not get hurt.” She turned and took Henry’s hand. “Come on, guys, let’s go make dinner.”

  “Sorry about that. Big sisters, you know.” I gave Shirley an apologetic look.

  “And grandmother and friends. You look like a nice lady, but that won’t mean anything to me if my granddaughter is harmed in any way.”

  Shirley gave Meme a quick nod. “Understood.”

  Meme pushed herself up and went to the stove. “Coffee or tea?” she asked Shirley. “I’m going to make you girls some thermoses to keep you warm.”

  “Tea would be fine, Meme. Thanks,” Shirley said, and I could tell she already felt comfortable with my grandmother. Meme just has that gift.

  I wrote out the address for the Bryson home and left it with Meme. I also gave her Shirley’s cell phone number and Shirley promised to keep Meme and the gang informed via text messages. I had no idea how to send one so I left that to them.

  “Anything happens, I can have the calendar boys rounded up quick,” my grandmother said.

  Of course, first she’d have to wake them up and give them their heart medication first, but the sentiment was touching.

  My grandmother handed each of us a thermos and made two salami sandwiches with the leftover bread and handed me a bag. “Okay. Text me when you get in place.”

  “I promise. Or at least I promise Shirley will text you as soon as we can. It’s going to be okay, Meme. I’m pretty sure I know who killed Humphrey, and all they ever wanted was the art. W
e’re going to be fine.

  Shirley and I walked down the front walk. We decided to take her car just in case the killer knew what mine looked like, which they probably did. I turned and waved good-bye to the three white-haired ladies standing on Meme’s porch. Theresa and Francis waved to us and Meme clutched her cell phone with all her might.

  Chapter 70

  We parked a couple of blocks from the Bryson house and cut through a path between two homes that lead out to the beach. We stuck as close as we could to the hedges boarding the yards as we walked, talking quietly in case anyone else was out here doing the same thing.

  “Do you think they’ll drive right up to the house?” I asked Shirley.

  “I don’t know. If they were smart, they’d park a few blocks away like we did and come in through the beach, but if they’re coming for the art, they probably won’t want to carrying it that far. What I think they’ll do is wait at least another hour and then come in with their lights off and pull as close to the garage as possible. That way the neighbors won’t be able to see the car if they happen to look out the window. They may even carry the stuff out through the garage.”

  On the way over I had explained my theory to Shirley and what I had seen earlier at the pickleball tournament. It sounded like as good a possibility as any we had already come up with, but the truth was, until the killer, or killers, showed up tonight, if they showed up, I couldn’t be one-hundred percent certain. I was curious if John had come to the same conclusion as I had, but I didn’t think now was a good time to call him.

  “You have the alarm code, right?” Shirley stopped abruptly and turned to look at me.

  “I do.”

  “Good. It’d be a real pain if we came all this way and then couldn’t get in.”

  We continued walking until we saw the outline of the Bryson home in the moonlight and then cut through the same path Sophie had taken after her walk on one of the first mornings I came to visit her.

  “There are two alarm panels so we can go in through the kitchen or the front door,” I said.

  We opted for the back door. I dug the key out of my pocket, unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. We didn’t want to turn on any lights so we made do with a small flashlight Shirley had brought along. I led the way down the hall to the study, and once we were inside I shut the door and then turned on the desk lamp.

  “There’re no windows in here so we should be good. If you want we can sit in the secret room, but it’s going to be pretty cramped.”

  “So where is it?” Shirley stood in the center of the room and turned slowly looking for it.

  As I watched her I suddenly felt very vulnerable. I was certain I knew who the killer was, and John said he knew as well, but did we really? Shirley knew all along that Humphrey had visited the gallery. She even followed him there. She had to suspect there was something weird going on. Maybe she had put two and two together and used me to help her find where he had hidden his stash.

  But the more I thought about this, the more I didn’t like it. She had never once called me and pumped me for information. It was always me going to her. Or was that the plan, lure me into her web. If I had been wrong about her all this time then I was alone in an empty house with a killer. At night. It would be very easy for her to kill me and make off with whatever she wanted from Humphrey’s secret closet. But would she be so bold knowing that my grandmother and her friends, not to mention my sister, knew exactly where we were. Then I had another cheery thought—maybe after she killed me, she’d go after my family.

  “Earth to Alex. Are you okay?”

  I shook these crazy thoughts out of my head and looked at Shirley. “It’s over here. Pretty ingenious, don’t you think.” I pushed on the panel until I heard the soft click and it opened. I reached inside and turned on the light and stepped aside, allowing Shirley to take a look.

  If she was the killer and had any smarts at all, now is when she would force me to help her carry it all back to the car and then kill me, but instead she just leaned against the wall and took it all in.

  “Wow. This is amazing. I don’t know a lot about art, and God only knows where all this stuff came from, but I hope Sophie gets to keep it. She should donate it all to a museum or something, have them name a wing after her.”

  Those didn’t sound like the words of someone who had plans to hightail it out of town with a bunch of loot. I let my guard down a bit and tried to relax.

  Shirley moved over to the shelving and looked at a few of the smaller paintings. “I gotta tell you, this stuff is probably worth a ton, but would you hang this in your living room?”

  I took a look at the painting and had to laugh. “No. But I buy my stuff online, though I did pick up a few small water colors when we were in Europe. They’re signed and everything.”

  “I hate to tell you,” Shirley began, putting down the painting and turning toward me, “but when that robbery occurred, maybe they got everything they wanted. They might not be coming back.”

  I stepped back into the study and picked up my thermos. I poured some tea into the plastic cup and took a sip. “I thought of that, but I had nothing else to do tonight. Besides, it sure would be great to catch them in the act.”

  Shirley pulled out her cell phone and sure enough there was a text from my tech savvy grandmother. She used her thumbs to send a reply and then sat down. “It says here that the hostage situation is still going on. Your husband is in contact with the guy holding his family. So far no one’s been hurt.”

  “Let’s pray it stays that way,” I said.

  We sat there for another thirty minutes, chit-chatting and texting my grandmother. I was almost done with my tea and contemplated going into the kitchen to boil some water when we heard a noise.

  Chapter 71

  I quickly opened one of the desk drawers and stowed our thermoses. Shirley reached for the desk lamp dowsing the light and then turned on the flashlight. We headed for the secret room and then stopped when we heard the noise again.

  “It’s coming from outside. What day do they pick up trash in this town?” Shirley asked.

  “I don’t know. Mine was yesterday.”

  “I think one of the neighbors is pulling his trash can out to the street. Stay here.”

  Shirley left me in total darkness. I was just starting to panic when I saw the beam from the flashlight flickering in the hallway.

  “The guy next door. Trash day must be tomorrow.” She closed the door to the study and turned the lamp back on. “We need to keep talking or I’m going to fall asleep. It’s been a long day. So tell me about the murders you solved.”

  I told Shirley about the first body I found and how I was alone in a creepy mannequin factory.

  “Sounds terrifying.”

  “It was. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid in my life.”

  “Is that when you met your husband?”

  I nodded. “It is. I thought he was a jerk at first and I’m sure he thought I was a busybody.” I smiled at the memory.

  “And then you found another body.”

  “No. I didn’t find the body in the next murder myself, but one of my employees was working for the family of the victim so I got involved.” I was all out of tea, so I switched to my sandwich.

  “And then you went to Europe and found a body there. You have a real gift,” Shirley said.

  “We were at a party. Someone else found the body, and then John got caught up following the Belgian police around, so Sam and I started looking into the murder.”

  “Didn’t the police over there mind you snooping around?” Shirley tried to stifle a yawn.

  “The man in charge knew John’s former partner up in Boston. He was delighted to have John’s help so he couldn’t very well tell me to keep out of it. Besides,” I said, doing my best not to yawn myself, “you can only do so much sightseeing, and then you need a change.”

  “Murder certainly makes a change from looking at museums and stuff. So then you came h
ome and someone got killed in your house, right?”

  “Yes. That was the worst of all. Not only because it was my house, but because of how it turned out in the end. Heartbreaking.” I told Shirley about the mahjong murder, as I thought of it. “I have a feeling something like that is going to happen here. I think there’s a dark story to all of this.”

  Shirley nodded and then looked down at her phone. “Your grandmother. She wants to know if we need any help. Someone named Fred just stopped by and said he could be here in thirty minutes if we need anything.”

  “That would be generic Viagra Fred. He has the hots for my grandmother and I think she kind of likes him, too.”

  “Are they, you know, hooking up?” Shirley looked amused.

  “I think there are some things that are best left unknown, and this is one of them. So tell me about some of your cases.”

  Shirley told me about a cheating husband she was tailing. He took the girlfriend to his own home because he thought his wife was out of town, but she was really planning a surprise birthday party for him. There he was, upstairs with the girlfriend while downstairs the house was filling up with party guests.

  We both started to laugh and then Shirley put her hand up to stop my laughing.

  “I think I hear something.”

  Funny how those five words can get your heart pumping faster than you would believe possible. Mine was about to leap right out of my sweater.

  “I don’t hear anything,” I whispered back.

  “No, I’m sure I heard—there! Did you hear that?”

  Again, I heard nothing but my heart beating in my ears. And then I heard it.

  “They’re coming in through the kitchen,” Shirley said. “Quick. In the closet.”

  I grabbed the thermos off the table while Shirley grabbed hers and flicked the lamp off. We scrambled into the secret room and pulled the door closed until we heard the faint click. Did I happen to mention that I’m claustrophobic? Big time. That click about did me in. Why didn’t I have this better planned out? I knew how to open the door from the outside, but stuck in here, I wasn’t so sure how to get out. And what if the killer did bring a gun? What then? We were sitting ducks with nowhere to hide.