Some Like It Shot

by Elise Sax

  “Ask me your questions, then,” Shlomo said with the door half open, keeping us out of the room. “Hurry up. The game’s about to start, and I’ve got five hundred dollars on it.”

  “Did you see the killer?” I asked with my hands on my hips. I disliked him instantly. I wanted to turn him into a frog so bad. It was all I could do to not whisper the five little words that would have him dealing with warts and a terrible craving for flies for the rest of his life.

  “No. If I had seen the killer, don’t you think I would have said something?” he said, condescendingly.

  “Anything out of the ordinary?” I asked.

  “You mean besides an arrow killing Danny? No. It was pretty much like every eating competition. Small, though. Amateur. Too many celebrities.”

  “Why did you go, if you weren’t competing? Were you friends with Mr. Avocado?” John asked.

  Shlomo laughed. “Danny was a competitor. Competitors are never friends. All right. You really want to know? It doesn’t matter anymore, so I’ll tell you. I was spying on him. I heard that he was moving from tacos to hot dogs, where the real money is. I wanted to check him out in person. Happy?”

  “And maybe you wanted to kill off the competition,” I suggested.

  “No. I wanted to check out the competition. I don’t kill competitors, and I certainly wouldn’t have killed him with an arrow. Besides, I was in the audience the whole time.”

  “Do you have witnesses who will confirm that?” John asked.

  Shlomo shrugged. “Beats me. But the volunteer captain was standing next to me. She kept pestering me about Chris Trist. She wanted to know if I knew him and if I could get her a job as his assistant.”

  “Amy? Amy was standing next to you?”

  “I don’t know her name. The game’s about to start.”

  “Don’t leave town,” John told him in his deepest, scariest Remington voice.

  “I’m here for three days. Then, I’m going to Tokyo to eat hot dogs.” Shlomo looked up at the ceiling for a second and took a deep breath. “Hey, listen. I didn’t mean to be a jerk with you, but I don’t like being accused of something. You know? Anyway, Danny Avocado wasn’t a threat to me. There was no way he could have adapted to hot dogs and taken me on and won. But Bob Hayashi has been the number two taco eater to Danny’s number one for seven years. Seven years. He couldn’t catch up to Danny in that time. That builds up a lot of animosity. If I were you, I’d focus on Bob.”

  Shlomo closed the door, and we could hear the television get louder.

  “Bob was on the bandstand,” John said when we walked to the elevator. “He couldn’t have killed Danny.”

  “He could have paid someone to kill him. He could have a partner. Jealousy is a good motive for murder.”

  “I know. I existed for hundreds of years, seething in jealousy for every soul who could draw breath.”

  Bob’s room was on the bottom floor. When we stepped out of the elevator, we saw him step out of his room and run into the stairway next to his room, as if he was in a hurry.

  John started to call to him, but I stopped him.

  “Why is Bob in a hurry?” I asked John.

  “Maybe he wanted a bear claw.”

  “I think it’s something more nefarious than a doughnut.” I didn’t like Shlomo, but for some reason, I believed him. “He looked guilty.”

  “Should I arrest him?”

  “No. We need to spy on him,” I said. “Maybe he’ll take us to his partner. I have a good feeling about this. Finally, we’ve got a break in this case.”

  Chapter 7

  “The problem with putting two and two together is sometimes you get four and sometimes you get twenty-two.”

  –Dashiell Hammett

  We followed Bob out the back of the inn and out onto the beach toward the pier.

  “What’re we doing?” John asked, following me as I followed Bob, skulking behind him, trying not to be obvious about it.

  “We’re spying on Bob.”

  “I’ve seen this on Netflix.”

  “TV will rot your brain,” I warned.

  “On the contrary. Netflix is like reading three books an hour. I’ve learned so much. I think what you’re doing is called reconnaissance. I’ve seen Sylvester Stallone do this with other muscular, older men. But they had a lot of weapons. I only have my sidearm. Do you think I’ll have to shoot him?” he asked with more of a note of hope in his voice.

  “No, please don’t shoot Bob.”

  “I don’t want to, but I will if I have to. These modern weapons are something to behold. I wouldn’t mind popping a cap in his ass, just to see.”

  His puritanical/hip-hop way of speaking was giving me whiplash. It reminded me that John and Remington might be sharing the same space in the universe.

  “No shooting. No loud noises. We’re not going to draw any attention to ourselves. We’re spying on Bob. Just following him to see if he takes us to the killer.”

  “Don’t worry, Aggie. I’m stealth, baby. I’m a moonbeam. I’m the silver lining in a black cloud.”

  “None of that makes any sense. Oh, look at that!”

  Bob turned to the left off of the beach. We followed him, careful not to be noticed. We walked off the beach onto Sea Breeze Avenue right where the police station was located. Bob headed straight for an old Toyota Corolla and dug keys out of his pocket.

  “We’re going to have to follow him in a car,” I said.

  “Do you have a car?” John asked, surprised.

  “No, but you do. That’s Remington’s police car,” I said, pointing at a sedan parked on the street, two cars behind Bob’s Toyota.

  “I haven’t tried it yet.” He stared at the car with skepticism and a touch of trepidation.

  “No time to lose, or he’ll get away,” I urged.

  I jogged to the passenger door. John fumbled with his keys and beeped the fob to open the doors. We sat inside the car, and John studied the dashboard.

  “Hurry up. He started his car. He’s going to get away,” I complained. John continued to study the dashboard.

  “I need more time to learn this. If I could take it apart and put it back together, I’m sure I could figure it out.”

  “Why? You didn’t learn to drive from Netflix?”

  He touched the steering wheel. “I understand the rudiments. This steers the vehicle, but the rest?”

  “Move over,” I said.

  He climbed over me, while I slid over to the driver’s seat under him. I pushed the button to start the car. “There. That wasn’t hard,” I said.

  I had no idea how to drive a car, and I had never watched Netflix. But I had been in a car on more than one occasion over the years, and I had even been in Remington’s car.

  “I put the car into drive,” I said, putting the car into drive. “I turn the wheel and put my foot on the right pedal.”

  “Ah, the pedals. I was wondering about those.”

  I put my foot on the gas pedal and the car lurched forward. I steered wildly to avoid the car parked in front of us. Bob was already a half block away in his Toyota. I leaned forward and hit the gas with my foot.

  “This isn’t so hard,” I said. “I kind of like it. I can feel the power of the car. Now I see why people go on road trips. This is fun.”

  “You’re on the wrong side of the street,” John noted.

  I swerved just in time to miss an oncoming car. Bob’s car turned up a side street, and I followed him. “Darn it. I forgot to put the signal on.”

  “Watch out!”

  I swerved to avoid a woman crossing the street. “Sorry!” I yelled, but she couldn’t hear me because my window was closed.

  “How do I open the window?” I asked John. “Never mind. I found it.”

  I fiddled with the window switch.

  “He’s turning! He’s turning!” John yelled.

  “Where?” I asked, lifting my head. “Where? Uh-oh!”

  For once, a power scooter rider was on
the street instead of on the sidewalk. He crossed the street just as I was driving by.

  “Stop the car!” John yelled and braced himself with his hands on the car ceiling.

  “I’m stopping! I’m stopping!” I yelled back, but my foot slipped off the pedal and the car careened into the scooter, knocking it to the side of the road.

  The scooter rider miraculously hopped out of the way, uninjured. I stepped back on the gas, determined not to lose Bob. But the scooter rider wasn’t finished with us. Off balance, he fell back onto the hood of the car. I watched in horror as the car scooped him up as we drove down the street.

  The man flailed his arms wildly and rolled over on the hood of the car, trying to stay on top, I assumed, so I wouldn’t run him over. He managed to clutch onto a gap in the hood where it met with the windshield. We were now face to face through the window. I wondered if my expression was as full as terror as his. His eyes were wide. He was incredulous that a woman in a peasant blouse was trying to kill him, if I had to guess. He had a point. I was a menace to life and peace in the town.

  “I’m so sorry!” I yelled to my victim. “It was an accident!”

  “Well, this is something you don’t see every day,” John said. “Are you going to stop the car?”

  “Yes!” I yelled and slammed my foot hard on the left pedal.

  The next morning, I was happy to go to the soup shop on time and to start the workweek. It was normal, and I needed a dose of normal in my life. I also needed a few minutes where I wasn’t stupid and wasn’t a threat to my fellow man.

  Sea Breeze was cold and calm at four in the morning, and even the seagulls seemed to be sleeping, thankfully. I turned onto Sea Breeze Avenue, and I noticed something moving in the shadows on the sidewalk. When I got closer to it, I could see that it was a large snake.

  “Oh, hello,” I said. “What on earth are you doing here? You better hit the road before someone sees you.”

  It didn’t move, and I stepped over it, gingerly. I had never seen a snake in Sea Breeze before, and I thought back to what Auntie Tilly had said about the bad omen of animals acting strangely.

  Irving and Doris were waiting for me at the soup shop. I unlocked the door, and we walked in together. Irving turned on the gas lights, and I went to the back of the shop, where I slipped on my apron.

  “I hear you killed a man,” Irving said to me.

  “That’s exaggerated,” I said.

  “I heard he flew through the air like Lindbergh was riding him,” Irving said.

  “Again, exaggerated,” I lied. “Did you see anything fishy at the taco-eating contest?” I asked them, changing the subject, as I took the recipe book out of the safe.

  “A man got killed with an arrow,” Irving said. “He slumped dead over the tacos. That was pretty fishy.”

  “Did you see who killed him? Anything out of the ordinary?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve asked everyone,” Doris said. “There isn’t a whisper about seeing anyone. But…” she started and shook her head. “No, I shouldn’t.”

  “What? What?” I asked, walking toward her.

  “Okay, but only because you’re twisting my arm, Agatha. Normally, I don’t gossip.”

  “And she doesn’t breathe air, either,” Irving said, smirking. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Funny,” Doris said and stuck her tongue out at her husband. “Anyway, I’ve been hearing whispers that the marijuana dispensary is involved somehow.”

  “How?” I asked, nearly breathless.

  “I don’t know, but there’s something shady about that Augustus guy. I’d bet money he’s up to something.”

  I fed them breakfast and started to work on the soups of the day. A couple hours later, Mouse ran in, like she was running from something.

  “A snake chased me!” she gasped, practically falling on a chair. “I thought I was seeing things at first, but it was a snake. First seagulls and now snakes. I can’t handle it.”

  “I saw a snake, too,” I said.

  “It chased me. I swear it chased me,” Mouse continued. She put her face in her hands. “I’m worn out. I can’t do this, anymore. Even my boyfriend is upset because I’m too busy here, and I’m not giving him the attention he deserves.”

  “You’re worn out,” I told her, patting her back. “You need a break.”

  I felt a wave of relief. Mouse was fed up, and finally, we were going to be able to cancel the delivery apps. I could have sworn I saw a bright light and heard angels sing.

  The door opened, and Bud Spicoli ran in, like he was running from something, too. “That’s it! That’s it! I’m done with weed!” He plopped down on a chair next to Mouse. “It’s making me see crazy things, man. No more weed. No more reviews. I need to find a new job and a new reason for living. You get me?”

  Mouse sat up straight, and her eyes widened. “What did you say?” she squeaked at Bud.

  “No more weed,” he said.

  “No. The other thing. About the job,” she said, her face turned up in a smile.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Wait a minute…” I began.

  “I’m looking for a new job?” Bud said like a question.

  Mouse grabbed Bud’s hands with hers. “You’re a miracle. You’re my miracle. You came just when I needed you most. You’re hired.”

  “I am?” he asked.

  “As I was saying…” I began.

  “You can start today. Oh, thank goodness. You can work the delivery tablets while I bake,” she said.

  “The thing is…” I started.

  “On it! You won’t be sorry,” Bud told Mouse, like he had just been told that Santa was going to visit him twice this year.

  “I’m sure I won’t,” Mouse said. “I have a good feeling about you.”

  “Actually, the situation is…” I started.

  “So, what are the chances that we can expand the menu to vegan hamburgers?” Bud asked. “I think that would fill a need and build business.”

  “But…” I started.

  It was too late. Even though Mouse didn’t technically have the authority to hire anyone, she had, and I didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble.

  Mouse and Bud walked to the kitchen to discuss how they were going to increase business, effectively dooming me to a life of delivery apps and never-ending business. I sat down on a chair and rested my cheek on the table.

  “What’s going on?” Irving asked looking at me. “Did something bad happen? Did the soup girl have a stroke?”

  “No, it’s a woman’s thing,” Doris told him.

  “Like pantyhose?” Irving asked.

  “Today’s soups are chicken noodle, lobster bisque, lentil, and minestrone,” I told a table of the marijuana dispensary’s customers.

  “Ask the baker chick if she’ll make some happy pasta,” one of them said and shook a baggie of pot at me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take the bag. You could be making a fortune if you’d expand to more enlightened food,” another person at the table told me.

  What was it with everyone trying to bump up business? I wished they would try to bump up someone else’s business. I heard that the steel and coal industries were hurting. Why couldn’t they bother them instead of me?

  “This is a soup shop and bookstore,” I said, not taking the bag of pot. “You want soup or something to read?”

  “You’re making a mistake,” the first guy warned me.

  I did my best impression of Remington’s face when John made him look scary.

  “Fine,” he said. “We’ll take three bowls of chicken noodle and one lobster bisque.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring challah and butter biscuits right away.”

  I went back to the counter, where Bud was taking orders off of the delivery app tablets. I made a platter of bread for the stoners.

  “This is fun,” Bud said. “My carpel tunnel’s gone, and I haven’t had one hallucination since I’ve been here.”

  “What ha
llucination did you have this morning that made you run in here?” I asked.

  Bud shuddered. “Craziest thing. I hallucinated that I was being chased by two snakes. Nothing says get off the weed than snakes. Am I right?”

  I nodded.

  “Hey, is it true that you killed a guy yesterday?” he asked.

  “That’s exaggerated.”

  “So, you killed him a little?”

  “He’s not dead. The doctor said he was going to make a full recovery. Eventually.”

  As the lunch rush died down, Frances made her fifth trip to the shop. She was less frazzled than she had been, and I wondered if she was getting the hang of the deliveries.

  “Psst, Agatha,” she said. “Come outside. I have something to show you.”

  “Did someone die?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t think so. Did someone else die? You’d know before I would. You’re sort of the Patrick Henry of murder. The killer is coming! The killer is coming! That sort of thing.”

  “I don’t know what to say about that.”

  “Don’t say anything. Come outside. You need a break, anyway.”

  She was right. I put Mouse and Bud in charge of the shop and followed Frances outside.

  There was a three-wheeled open vehicle that took up the entire sidewalk parked in front of the shop. A large umbrella was attached to it. Frances stood next to the vehicle and gestured like she was a model on a game show.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the Deluxe Super Warrior Power Scooter Model EXL. I refinanced my house to buy it. The other scooters tremble in fear when they see me coming. And get this, Agatha. I never ride on the street. Just the sidewalk. I’m showing those bastards who’s in charge. I’m the queen of the sidewalk. Did I say queen? I mean emperor. I’m the emperor of the sidewalks!”

  To prove her point, a man on a power scooter drove up behind her on the sidewalk and honked his little horn at her. Frances honked her horn back at him. It sounded like a foghorn, and the other scooter gasped and hopped off the sidewalk.