Some Like It Shot

by Elise Sax

  “Watch yourselves!” he warned, loudly. At first, we didn’t know what he was warning us about, but through the glow of the streetlight, I finally saw it.

  A snake.

  But it wasn’t just any snake. It was the biggest snake I had ever seen in my entire life. I didn’t have a natural fear of reptiles, but the sheer size of the snake made me afraid. Made me very afraid. John put his arm out to block me from moving any further.

  “Stand back, Aggie,” he said. “Let the dude do his work this time. Don’t try to help.”

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to try to help,” I said, slightly irritated.

  Quint crouched down and tried to approach the giant snake. The giant snake reared back as if it was going to strike. Quint showed a lot of courage and didn’t back down. He wielded his giant net over his head and approached the snake.

  “I don’t think that net can handle that snake,” I commented in a whisper to John.

  “I really wanted a quiet day,” John moaned. “I mean, I was almost thrust into oblivion. Isn’t that enough for one day? Can’t I just have a quiet day with no giant snakes?”

  “You seem kind of stressed there,” Augustus said to John. “I’ve got a few hot gummies in my pocket that would take care of that stress, if you want.”

  “Are you serious?” John asked.

  Augustus shrugged. “Sorry. Habit. Once a businessman, always a businessman.”

  Quint and the giant snake continued to face off. The snake was approaching him slowly, and Quint was backing away slowly. I had a very bad feeling about this. I had been totally wrong about a quiet morning. We were about to see a grown man eaten by a snake. I wanted to help, but I knew I was no match for the giant beast. Neither was John.

  Basically, nobody was a match for it.

  Irving and Doris walked across the street and watched the impending horror with us.

  “This is bad,” Doris said. “This is like a horror movie.”

  “Yeah, like The Way We Were or The Notebook,” Irving said.

  “Those aren’t horror movies, Irving,” Doris said.

  “They were horror movies to me. You made me sit through them. Those are hours that I’ll never get back, and I’m an old man, you know.”

  “Can we just focus on what’s happening here?” I pleaded. “A man is about to get eaten alive.”

  Then it happened. The snake reared back even more and began to strike. Over our heads there was a loud noise. It was the sound of a flock of seagulls all squawking at the same time. Our attack seagulls.

  At first, I thought they were going to attack us, but they were headed toward the snake instead. The snake looked up in what I could have sworn was terror at what was about to happen to it.

  The flock of seagulls all dove for the giant snake. I watched as they landed on it. Each of them dug their talons into a section the reptile’s flesh, until they were covering its very long body. In a daring display of strength and perseverance, they flapped their wings hard and managed to take flight, while holding the giant snake in their talons.

  They flew far out across the ocean. In the darkness, we couldn’t see what was happening, but we could hear the moment they dropped the giant snake into the deep ocean and to its certain death.

  “Doris, explain to me what I just saw,” Irving said.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I ate a hot gummy by mistake,” she replied.

  “I’m definitely having a bad trip,” Augustus said.

  “The seagulls saved Quint,” I said. “They picked up the giant snake and dumped him deep into the ocean where it can’t hurt anyone.”

  “The seagulls saved the town,” John said. “They’re heroes.”

  “Today’s soups are carrot, spicy chicken tortilla, butternut squash, and million-year soup,” I told Rick Graves.

  It was the first time that Chris’s manager had come into the shop, and I was wondering if he was really coming in for the soup or to get information for his client. Today was the day that Chris was supposed to return to Hollywood, and as far as I knew, John had kept the secret that the stalker had been caught. He had done that as a favor to me because I was trying to get more information, and now Rick was in front of me, and I couldn’t figure out what to ask him.

  “I’ll take the spicy chicken tortilla,” he said. He folded a newspaper on the table, and I noticed that it was the horse racing page. He had been circling various horses’ names for each race when I had approached his table.

  “Are you going to the races?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, this is just how I let off steam. I call in my bets every day. You want to maybe make a bet with me over one of the races?” He had more than a hint of excitement in his voice. It was the most animated I had ever seen him. The thought of placing a bet with me sparked something inside his happy place.

  “No, thank you,” I said, and his face dropped. “Do you bet a lot?”

  “I’m not an addict, if that’s what you think. It’s just a hobby. Like knitting or cooking soup.”

  I had made him angry, and so I didn’t think that it was a good time to ask him questions about whether or not he was the killer or had tried to kill his client because he wouldn’t star in a superhero movie. I decided to wait until his belly was filled with spicy chicken tortilla soup before I interrogated him.

  At one of the fireplaces, I ladled Rick’s soup into a bowl and served it to him, along with a large chunk of cornbread and freshly churned butter. Amy was sitting at another table, and she crooked her finger at me to come see her. I moved to her table and sat on the chair facing her.

  “How’s it going?” she asked. “Anything new on the Chris front?”

  I hated to lie, especially to my friend. But I didn’t think it was wise for Amy to know about the stalker’s arrest just yet. If she knew, she was bound to blab it to Chris or to Rick or to the entire town. After all, Chris was her favorite person in the world, and we had just arrested his stalker, which would have allowed him to leave town. The temptation would be too great for Amy to not keep her mouth shut.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Hey, have you ever heard of a woman named Bebe in Chris’s life?”

  Amy’s face brightened, happy, I assumed, to talk about Chris’s personal life. “That was the girl he was going to marry. But he was confused. He didn’t really love her. I mean, she was a drunk, and she crashed her car one night after she got drunk. So, she was definitely not Chris’s type. You know what I mean? Chris needs a woman who’s wonderful. Perfect. Just like he’s perfect.”

  It was all I could do not to roll my eyes and throw up. “So, she was a drunk? You mean an alcoholic?”

  Amy shrugged. “I don’t know if she was an alcoholic. All I know is she got really drunk, and that’s why she died. I don’t want to be heartless or anything, but isn’t it good she died, so Chris didn’t wind up stuck with her forever?”

  “That is sort of heartless, Amy,” I noted. “It’s not like you at all.”

  Amy slumped in her chair and looked like she was ashamed of herself. “I know. I don’t recognize myself these days. I had my whole life together. I was happy. I walked the cats every day and lived my life the way I wanted. Now, my cat walking business is in the toilet, and I just don’t know who I am anymore.”

  I got up and gave her a big hug. “It’s okay. It’s just a transition in your life. You’ll figure it out.”

  The door opened and Miguel Sanchez walked in. He looked around and when he saw me, he crooked his finger at me, just like Amy had. I walked up to him, and he urged me to leave the shop with him.

  I didn’t know what it was about yet, but my skin was tingling at the thought that maybe Miguel had uncovered something important. I left Mouse and Bud in charge of the shop, and I left with Miguel.

  “I think I got my first scoop,” Miguel told me excitedly when we were outside. “I think I’m going to be a great journalist, and I owe it all to you. I think I’m going to get one of those prizes. You know, o
ne of those Wurlitzer Prizes.”

  “You mean the Pulitzer Prize?” I asked.

  “No, I’m pretty sure it’s the Wurlitzer Prize.”

  “So, what’s the story?” I asked, giving up on the Pulitzer discussion. “What’s your big scoop?”

  Miguel gestured wildly with his hands and spit while he spoke. He was a ball of excitement, and I hoped for his sake that whatever his scoop was, it would get him the job that he wanted so he wouldn’t have to move to Canada where he would have to wear socks.

  “So here’s the thing,” he started. “It’s sort of about the Chris. You know, one of the four Chris’s, Chris Trist, who’s staying at the Sea Breeze Inn?”

  “Yes, Miguel. I know about that Chris. What about him? What have you got?”

  “Here’s the thing. He’s got a manager named Rick Graves. Isn’t that a scary name? Graves. Like where dead people go. Anyway, Rick Graves is being threatened by the Mob. The Mob means the mafia. That’s what they used to call the gangsters.”

  I nodded and tried to remain patient. “Yes, Miguel. I know what Mob means. Please, continue.”

  “Rick Graves owes a lot of money because he bets all the time. And I’m not talking about fantasy football. I’m talking about huge bets. Like more money than a Hollywood manager even makes. You know what I mean?” I nodded. “Anyway, he borrowed all this money from the Mob. And now they want to get the money back, or they’re going to kill him or beat him up, or something really bad. By the way, did you hear about the giant snake this morning? The seagulls saved the town. Isn’t that wild?”

  I closed my eyes. “Miguel, please stay on the subject. Rick Graves has gambling debts, and the Mob is after him, right?”

  “Yes, and those two guys in town wearing the pinstripe suits and the fedora hats--and I know what fedora means now—well, they’re the Mob, and they’re looking for Rick Graves, and he’s scared.”

  Miguel took a deep breath after finishing his announcement.

  It was all making a lot of sense. I understood now what had happened. I had solved the mystery of Danny Avocado’s murder and Chris’s attempted murder. I felt a sudden sense of satisfaction. It was the second time in two months that I’d figured out a murder mystery, and I wondered if maybe this was my calling in life, not being the caretaker of a lighthouse or cooking soup. Maybe I really was Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler or Agatha Christie.

  Across the street, I saw two things happen at once, which woke me out of my reverie. The two mobsters who we had just been talking about were walking toward us. At the same time, John was behind them walking in the same direction. I figured he was taking my advice and was going to eat soup for lunch.

  Miguel saw the mobsters at the same time that I did, and he pulled out his reporter’s notebook and a pen from his pocket, ready, I assumed, to get the final interview to seal the deal on his exclusive story.

  Then, it all turned sour. The door of the soup shop opened, and Rick Graves walked out. He smiled at me and thanked me for the soup, and then looked straight ahead. It was obvious the moment he saw the two mobsters. His face froze in an expression of pure terror.

  “Holy shit!” he yelled, and started to run down the street. The mobsters were on his tail, and John, probably sensing that something terrible was about to happen, ran after all of them. The mobsters got to Rick in only a few seconds and started to yell at him about unpaid debts.

  Fists started to fly soon after. I was surprised that Rick was the first one to throw a punch. It hit one of the mobsters in the face, throwing the fedora hat into the air. The loss of his hat seemed to anger the gangster more than the actual punch, and the pair began to beat the tar out of Rick.

  Luckily, John was right there, and he took on the two mobsters all by himself. It was an amazing sight to see. Remington was an MMA fighter and in amazing shape. And he was stronger than hell. He landed punches, each with a loud crack, and within a minute, subdued the two men.

  Miguel and I ran to the scene. The mobsters were lying on the ground with Rick, and they were all stunned and in a lot of pain.

  “Look how strong I am, Aggie!” John exclaimed. “What a dagger. Don’t you think?”

  “Man, that was off the chain,” Miguel told John, duly impressed. “You’re the man.”

  John began to arrest the two mobsters, but before he could finish, we were joined by Shlomo Fineman, Bob Hayashi, and the two movie stars who had participated in the taco-eating contest. They all yelled at John for holding them hostage in town and not letting them leave. They wanted to be released immediately.

  Whereas John had no fear of two mobsters, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, when faced with a mob of disgruntled people.

  “You can all go home today,” I told them, defusing the situation for John. “But first I need you all to gather inside the soup shop for a few minutes. I’m going to tell you what really happened at the taco-eating contest. After that, you’re all free to return home.”

  My announcement was first met with suspicion, but when John confirmed it, they were visibly relieved. All they needed to do was listen to the soup lady for a few minutes, and then they were free. I sent Miguel to bring back Chris, and John brought the two gangsters and Rick back into the soup shop.

  When all the people were gathered in the shop, I told them who the killer was.

  Chapter 14

  “Who shot him, I asked. The gray man scratched the back of his neck and said: Somebody with a gun.”

  – Dashiell Hammett

  Our group of suspects and witnesses gathered at the tables behind the stacks. The rest of the diners were curious about what was going on, and I noticed that the shop got very quiet when we all gathered. John stood, leaning against the wall, like a sentry. While Miguel went to get Chris, John sent for Kim to be brought to the shop by a police officer. All in all, there were four people in handcuffs: Kim, Augustus, and the two mobsters.

  Doris and Irving pushed their way behind the stacks, even though they weren’t officially part of the suspects and witnesses group.

  “This is going to be good,” Irving said. “Agatha is just like Dick Tracy.”

  “Do you know who the murderer is?” Amy asked, alternately looking fondly at Chris and giving the stink eye to Kim.

  Kim still had the crazy eyes thing going on, and they were directed exclusively at Chris. As for Chris, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t think that any amount of celebrity was worth this much hassle, let alone an attempt on his life.

  “So, this is what really happened,” I started. A little bubble of nervousness popped inside me, and for a moment I doubted that I could say what I needed to say in front of all of these people. But I was so giddy with the knowledge that I alone had figured out who the killer was that I shamelessly wanted to brag about it.

  “At first, this is what we knew,” I continued. “There was a taco-eating contest for charity.”

  “For the lifeguards, but we never got our money,” Captain Steve yelled, popping his head around the stacks.

  I ignored him and continued. “The taco-eating contest had three stars, including Chris. And of course, Eddie Acid.” Eddie stood and gave his punk rocker pose to the group. “There were also two professional competitive eaters. Danny Avocado was the number one taco eater in the world. Bob Hayashi was the number two. Interestingly enough, the number one hot dog eater, Shlomo Fineman, came to the contest to scout out his competition.”

  Everyone looked at Shlomo. “I’m the best in the world. I don’t have competition,” he boasted.

  “The whole town was interested in the taco-eating contest,” I continued. “And tourists came to see it, and so did the press. After all, there were movie stars attending, most interestingly one of the four Chris’s. Then, as we all know, Danny Avocado won the taco-eating contest. When he stood up, an arrow was shot right through his heart. It was an amazing shot. So accurate. But when we looked around, we couldn’t see an
yone with a bow and arrow. Our immediate suspects were Danny’s competition. That means you, Bob, and you, Shlomo.”

  “I had nothing to do with it,” Shlomo said.

  “Me neither. I was on stage at the time,” Bob said.

  “Actually, it turned out that it didn’t matter that you were on stage,” I said. “You could have easily killed him sitting up there. I’ll explain how that worked. We finally found the crossbow. It was attached to a tripod hidden in a section of trees, aimed right for Danny’s heart. The odd thing was that it was triggered by remote control. The aim had been set up long before. So you see, you could have triggered the remote control with a taco in your mouth without a problem.”

  “Whoa,” Eddie said. “This is like a mystery wrapped up in an enigma, inside a riddle.”

  “But what the killer didn’t know was that Danny and Chris were going to exchange seats,” I said. “So, the real target of the killing was the superstar, Chris Trist.”

  The group gasped in unison, even though word had already gotten out that Chris had been the real target.

  “This is getting good,” Irving said. Doris shushed him.

  “So, I couldn’t have done it,” Bob said. “If I had the remote control on the bandstand, I would have seen that Danny moved, and I wouldn’t have triggered the arrow.”

  “Yes!” I said, pointing at him. “You’re exactly right. Very well deduced. That means you’re innocent.”

  “I was on the grandstand, too,” the starlet announced. “That means that I’m innocent, too!”

  “When we realized that Chris was the real target, he explained to us that he had a stalker,” I continued. “He showed us the letters that he had scanned onto his phone. Kim Barry was the obvious suspect.”

  “I’m not a suspect,” Kim insisted. “Chris and I have something special. You guys just don’t understand. Nobody understands. Chris and I are forever.”