The Gray-Haired Knitting Detective Series: (Books 1 - 3)

by D. E. Haggerty

  I sigh and sit down across from him at the kitchen table. “What do you want to know?” I ask. No longer pretending I haven’t been up to no good.

  “How about why didn’t you call me when you thought you were being followed? I really enjoyed getting a phone call from the station that you were there to report an incident.” He’s seething now. I don’t bother to answer. There is no correct answer to this. “And, oh, where were you all afternoon? Because you sure as shit weren’t at Jack’s house.”

  Noel stands and throws his empty beer bottle in the trash before grabbing a new one from the frig. He sits down across from me before draining half the beer in one gulp. I think I’m going to need a few of those to settle my nerves before dealing with pissed-off-Noel.

  “Do you maybe wanna talk about this when you’ve calmed down some?” I dare to ask. Noel just throws me a wicked glare. “Ok, fine,” I say and throw my hands up in surrender. I stand and grab a beer from the frig as well.

  After I take an extremely large, not lady like at all, gulp, I look at Noel and answer his second question. “We went to Ajax Mining,” I say and wait for the explosion. It doesn’t take long.

  “You what?” Noel’s face is red as he jumps from his chair and starts pacing the kitchen. “I specifically told you not to go there.”

  I know he’s mad because he’s worried about me, but ordering me around is not okay. I stand and face him. “You can’t order me around,” I grit out.

  “Yes. I. Can.” He enunciates each word slowly and clearly as if he’s talking to a preschooler. “I’m your man,” he holds up a hand to stop my response to his caveman-like antics. “And even if I weren’t, I’m a police officer. If I order you to do something or not to do something, you need to listen to me.”

  “I was never good at taking orders.” I’m flippant now. I don’t want to have the same fight again and again.

  “That’s clear,” Noel says as he collapses in his chair. “So what happened?”

  I clear my throat. “Well, the guy that was harassing Grandma no longer works at the company.”

  “Give me his name and I’ll check him out.” I write the name down on a piece of paper and hand it to Noel.

  “And you were followed?” I nod. “Why do you think you were followed?”

  I describe the car chase to him. Noel’s face loses more and more color as I continue. He jumps from his chair and pulls me out of mine for a hug when I finish. “Fuck, baby, you could have been hurt.” He squeezes me.

  “I’m fine,” I can barely speak. He just holds me tight. After a few minutes, he loosens his grip to look me in the eyes.

  “You are fine, aren’t you?”

  “It was fun,” I say, and he groans.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but it will probably be a ball.”

  Noel throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah,” he nods. “If I don’t have a heart attack first.”

  I consider asking Noel about what the police officers were talking about. Why does he want any incidents regarding Ajax Mining to be reported to him? But I quickly give up on the idea. One angry outburst from Noel per day is my limit. I head off to take a shower and wash the grime of yet another trip to the police station off me.

  When I come out of the shower, I’m surprised to hear laughing and joking in the kitchen. Is this Noel’s poker night? I quickly dress in yoga pants and a t-shirt before heading toward the noise. I stop in my tracks at the door to the kitchen. The gang’s all here – Jack along with Betty and her entourage.

  “What’s going on?” I ask Noel, who’s looking mighty guilty.

  “I called a meeting,” he responds. I raise my eyebrows at him, but he ignores my unspoken questions. “Have a seat. Betty brought dinner.”

  I quickly sit. I can get mad at whatever Noel’s scheming afterwards. Betty may be a master when it comes to baking, but her cooking is out of this world. We eat quickly and the ladies wash up. I try to stand to help, but Martha and Rose give me dirty looks. Okay, guess I’m staying seated then. Noel comes over and lifts me up before sitting down and gathering me into his lap.

  “Okay, ladies. I want to talk about why I asked everyone to come over,” Noel starts. I try really hard, really I do, but I can’t stop the loud sigh that leaves my mouth. Noel hugs me closer, but otherwise doesn’t respond to my obvious annoyance.

  “As everyone knows, Izzy and Jack were followed today.” The ladies nod, grim and serious for once. “This is dangerous. Your merry band of investigators has to stop snooping around before someone gets hurt.”

  Everyone nods and agrees while I bristle. I can’t believe everyone is giving up just like that. What the heck? I thought the white-haired lady clique would be stronger than this. I mean, what do they have to worry about? They’ve lived full lives. It’s twilight time for them anyway. I don’t understand Jack either. He was all excited about this detective work. Maybe the car chase scared him more than he’s willing to admit?

  I give Jack the evil eye, but he winks and puts his finger in front of his mouth in a shush motion. Okay, now I’m really confused. Betty pipes up. “Noel, we completely understand. We don’t want Izzy to be in any danger.” She sounds serious.

  Ally brings out a chocolate cake. Now things are really getting weird. I beg Ally to make her chocolate cake all the time. She almost always refuses. She claims it takes hours to make and only bakes it on special occasions. Is she trying to sweeten me or Noel up? Not that I’m unthankful for the cake or anything.

  By the time Jack and the ladies leave, I’m exhausted and head straight to bed after giving Noel a quick peck on the cheek. I’m irritated with him for convening the coven and giving us orders, but I’m too tired to call him on it.

  Chapter 30

  "Do You Want to Know a Secret?” by The Beatles

  I hear Noel leave early the next morning, but I’m feeling depressed and have lost any motivation to get out of bed. So I don’t. I roll over and fall back asleep. A phone ringing on my bedside table wakes me up a few hours later.

  “Hello,” I say, but I’m a bit groggy and it probably comes out sounding like whello.

  “Izzy? Are you still in bed?” I jump straight up and out of bed. Nothing like a grandmother guilting you about being lazy.

  “Um no.” I lie.

  “Anyway,” Betty ignores my lie. “We’re getting together this morning to research that Mr. Anderson on the line.”

  “Okay,” I answer trying to understand what’s going on. Didn’t she agree yesterday to give up her Jessica Fletcher ways?

  “It turns out that none of us actually is on the line at home.” I pull a pillow in front of my face and snicker into it. “We don’t want to go to the library,” Betty continues as if she hasn’t heard me snickering. “We need to do this on the low down.”

  “I think you mean down low,” I can’t help myself from saying.

  “Yes, yes down low. Anyway,” she continues in a rush, uncaring about correct terminology. “We need your help. Can you get us on the line?”

  I may be forty and therefore born before children came out of the uterus attached to tablets, but I can handle the simple assignment of getting the ladies online. “But wait a minute,” I say, no longer able to keep my confusion quiet about the turn of events. “I thought you agreed with Noel. You weren’t going to do any more snooping, remember?”

  Betty laughs. “Of course we told your nice young man that. We didn’t want to upset him.”

  I snicker. Noel is over forty and weighs something like 250 pounds. She makes it sound like he’s a lanky teenager trying to pretend he’s a man. I love it. Of course I’m in! “Where are we meeting?”

  I’m not surprised to see Jack’s car parked in front of Betty’s house when I arrive thirty minutes later. “Don’t you ever work?” I ask him when he opens the front door knowing full well he does as he pleases. Jack doesn’t deign to answer me; merely shows me to the kitchen table where the lad
ies are gathered around an ancient desktop computer. I look back at Jack, who’s trying not to laugh. I don’t think the computer is even plugged in. Good thing I came prepared!

  I haul my brand spanking new laptop out of my messenger bag and motion to Jack. “Can you get rid of the antique?”

  “It will be my pleasure.” He bows before whispering into my ear, “Seriously, can I throw it away?” I shake my head. Jack is probably more offended by the lack of style of the desktop than its lack of usefulness.

  I start up my computer and the ladies all gather around behind me.

  “Wow, that’s so much prettier than yours Betty,” Ally says, and I hear Jack laugh.

  “Oooh, and it works too. Look, there are pictures opening up,” Martha adds.

  I clear my throat before Betty goes Mike Tyson on them. “What do we want to know about Piers Franklin Ajax Anderson?”

  Betty pulls out her trusty notebook. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a spy in a previous life or something. “Well, obviously, we need to know where he lives, where he comes from, how long he worked at the mining company. Stuff like that.”

  I google the name and all kinds of stuff pops up. The Ajax family is incredibly wealthy, like Richie Rich wealthy. Their names are all over the society pages. Every time they give money to charity or play golf, there’s an article in the gossip column about it. They probably can’t fart without some paparazzi wanting to write about it. I shiver. That’s no way to live.

  There’s less information about Piers Anderson, but I know he’s the nephew of the current CEO of Ajax Mining. With a little more digging, we find out he’s the son of Alex Ajax’s sister, Barbra Chelsey Ajax Anderson. This family obviously loves pretentious names. Her other sons feature prominently in the society pages and are members of the board at Ajax Mining.

  “That’s weird,” Rosemary says when our search of the society columns pitters out. “The other family members are all over these pages. It’s almost like Piers Anderson doesn’t exist.”

  “I’ll tell you why,” Jack pipes up and we all turn to hear him out. “He’s obviously the bad boy of his family. He could be gay and they’re ashamed of him.” We all titter in indignation. “Or he’s just a troublemaker.” He shrugs.

  “Sounds about right,” I agree. “What now?”

  Betty looks around and then motions for everyone to come closer. “Let’s go search his house,” she whispers.

  I nearly fall off my chair. Betty, the knitting buddy of my grandma who has arthritis in her knees and bakes like a god, just suggested we do a home invasion. But wait – it gets better. Ally, Rosemary, Martha, and Rose agree with her. They’re all nodding their heads and smiling in anticipation. I look to Jack to reason with them, but he too is nodding his head.

  “Have you all gone crazy?” I shout.

  “Shhh,” Betty says as if worried someone will overhear us. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Well, the last time I searched someone’s house I ended up in the back seat of a police car. Not something I really want to repeat.” I shake my head at their obvious descent into madness.

  “But it’s not like you had to spend the night in jail or anything, was it?” Ally pipes in. “Noel got you out of trouble.”

  The other ladies nod in agreement. “Yeah, Noel will keep our backs safe,” Rosemary says.

  “Um, ladies, this is the same man who told you to back off yesterday.” What in the world is going on? Since when am I the voice of reason?

  The ladies tut. “It’s fine. He loves you. He won’t let anything happen. He’ll be mad, but he’ll get over it.”

  Somehow I end up agreeing to stage a home invasion tonight. How did that happen? Did the ladies lace my coffee with something? I’ve clearly lost my mind.

  Chapter 31

  "Thieves in the Temple” by Prince

  Luckily Noel has to work this evening and so there’s no need for lying or subterfuge on my part. Although I’m an awesome liar, er, wielder of tall tales if I do say so myself. I wait until I hear the rumble of Noel’s GTO leave before jumping into my car and heading to Rosemary’s house. We discovered this afternoon that Piers Anderson only lives a few blocks from Rosemary.

  I walk into Rosemary’s house but am stopped short when I see the ensemble of merry thieves in front of me. I’m dressed in black jeans, black t-shirt, and a dark blue hoodie. I couldn’t find any dark colored sports shoes so I’m wearing black ballet flats. Jack, on the other hand, is wearing a catsuit. Yes, a catsuit. And he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  When I stop to stare at Jack, he strikes a pose. “You like?” He asks.

  “I don’t even know how to answer that question,” I respond. Instead, I check out Betty and her merry band of thieves. They too are dressed mostly in black. Apparently, however, orthopedic shoes only come in bright white. Between those shoes and the almost fluorescent bluish white hair of the ladies, I wonder what in the heck I’m doing.

  Betty seems to read my mind and shows me her scarf. The other ladies follow suit and quickly tie scarves around their heads. Indeed, they are less obvious now if we were going to a cat burglar convention for the elderly and insane.

  “What are people going to think when they see us walking through the neighborhood?” My eyes are wide and I’m trying not to stare and offend anyone, but it’s hard work.

  “Just that we’re out for an evening stroll with the dog,” Rosemary answers.

  “There’s a bit of a problem with that idea.” I pause and the ladies wait. “We don’t have a freaking dog!”

  “Fido’s a free spirit.” Jack’s not missing a beat.

  “And another thing’s bothering me.”

  Betty sighs at me as if she’s a long-suffering mother putting up with a delinquent child. “Why does Piers Anderson live in this area? He’s a millionaire with a huge trust fund. No offense, Rosemary, but this isn’t exactly a wealthy neighborhood.” Rosemary smiles at me to indicate she isn’t offended.

  “That’s what we’re here to find out.” Betty rubs her hands in excitement. I’m officially in trouble now.

  “How are we actually going to get in his house when we get there?” We really haven’t researched this breaking and entering evening thoroughly. I’m sure some YouTube videos would have helped had I thought about the actual logistics of the evening. Instead, I’m completely terrified I’m going to end up at the police station – again. Whether I’m dating Noel or not won’t matter if we get caught red handed.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Betty says and starts to walk through the door. The discussion is apparently finished.

  We stroll through the neighborhood until we get to Piers Anderson’s block. I’m looking around making sure no one is interested in what we’re up to, but apparently all the neighborhood busybodies are accompanying me on my evening of breaking and entering. Unlike me, Jack and Betty look like eager beavers. Their smiles are so bright they make the black clothing we’re wearing completely superfluous. I was already anxious about breaking into someone’s house, but now I’m also worried about what those two will get up to.

  Betty brings everyone into a huddle in front of the house next to Anderson’s place. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” she whispers. Oh great, she’s got a plan to get us into even more trouble. “Jack and Izzy are going to go around back and see if they can find a way in the house. Rose and I will try the front. Ally and Martha will stand guard.” Everyone nods eagerly. There must not be a good episode of Matlock on tonight. “Bark if you run into any trouble.”

  “Did you say bark?” I ask, but shake my head not waiting for an answer.

  Jack grabs my hand and we’re off. Anderson’s house is a dump. Seriously, a dump. The yard is overgrown and looks like a jungle. Paint is peeling from the walls and windows. There are no curtains or blinds. Instead, newspaper is taped to the inside of the windows. I can’t help but worry why Piers is so darn determined to ensure no one can see in his house. What is he hiding in t
here?

  Jack pulls me away from my perusal of the house toward the driveway. He slowly tiptoes and hunches over as he walks. It would be funny if I weren’t terrified. We swerve behind the garage. There’s a broken window on the side of the building, and I peek in. Except for a car, which is mostly covered with a large sheet, the building is completely empty. There’s not even a trash can. A bit odd, but nothing illegal.

  We continue to walk around the building, but something about the car’s shape hidden under the sheet is triggering a memory. “Hey Jack,” I whisper. “Why do I know that car?” He shrugs and puts his finger over his mouth to shush me.

  Believe it or not, the backyard is actually worse than the front. In addition to the jungle theme, there are various tools and some furniture lying around rotting. We have to be careful not to trip. I wonder if my tetanus shot is up-to-date. The windows at the back of the house aren’t covered by newspaper, and light is pouring out from them. Uh oh, someone’s home.

  I pull on Jack’s arm. “Someone’s here, Jack. Let’s go.” He ignores me and heads toward a window at the end of the house. This corner of the building is dark and just a tad bit scary. Did I mention creepy? Because this house is all kinds of creepy.

  I hear a sound similar to a dog bark and start turning around, but Jack is still holding my hand and refuses to let me go. He’s quite the determined delinquent. We reach the window, but despite Jack’s height, he can’t see in. He jumps up, but the window’s too high. Without a word, he lets go of my hand, crouches down, and interlaces his fingers. I just stare at him.

  “Come on, Izzy,” he begs. “If I give you a boost, you can see in.” I continue to stand there. I give him my, you’ve got to be freaking crazy look, but it’s dark and he doesn’t notice. There’s also the possibility he’s ignoring me. Finally, I huff and put my right foot in Jack’s hand. He lifts me up and I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

  I take a deep breath before peering into the window. It’s a bedroom and not a very nice one at that. There’s a mattress on the floor, but no bed frame. Clothes are strewn about the room. I’m about to make Jack let me down when a man walks into the room. Oh shit. The light from the hallway doesn’t offer enough illumination for me to make out any of his features. He’s muttering to himself and kicking at the clothes on the floor.