Jammed

by Deany Ray

  Was this a conversation or a commercial break?

  “My mother used the jam in her famous cookies. I wish you could have tasted those little bites of wonder. They were absolutely splendid.” Oh, wow. I was good.

  “Now that you mention tasty, I really loved that outfit you had on at dinner.” He made the same sound when he laughed as when he blew his nose.

  “Help me now,” I mouthed to my friends across the table.

  “So,” Donald continued, “when might I have the pleasure of seeing you again?”

  “I would love nothing better than to take a handsome man to brunch.” Which was very true. The trouble was, I didn’t know where to look for this handsome man. I’d been looking a long time.

  He was so enthusiastic in his acceptance that I could feel the spit coming through the phone. We arranged to meet the next day. Best to get this thing behind me. I told him I’d pick him up at the factory for our delightful midday meal. The girls were thrilled when I hung up. Our plan was a go.

  “Wear something sexy,” Celeste said. “That might just seal the deal.”

  “You hush up,” I told her. “I’m taking one for the team.”

  ***

  The next day I waited across from his workplace, trying to gather my courage as all good cops must do. After a few minutes, Marge drove up with Celeste. Then we huddled in my car to go over our plan of attack.

  “Whatever you do, you get that card.” Celeste leaned in from the backseat.

  “And maybe you’ll get a bonus. Maybe you’ll get a goodbye kiss,” Marge squeaked. Then both of my waitress friends burst into a fit of laughter.

  “Gag me with a spoon,” I said. “Do we even know if he has an access card?”

  “Some people do, at least,” Marge said. “When we were at the factory to have our talk with Mr. Elkins, I’m pretty sure I saw a sign. That said Access Cards Only. Or something to that effect.”

  “But that was for the factory.” I bit my fingernails.

  “That’s right,” Celeste said. “But you know the jam shop’s separate. You might not need a card to get into that part of the factory.”

  Marge thought about it for a moment. “I think they enter through the main door like the other factory workers.”

  She thinks? Shouldn’t she be sure? Before she sends me on a mission hat might give me nightmares all my life?

  “But if I get his card – and that’s a great big if – won’t he just get a new one?” I frowned. This plan was sounding more and more absurd.

  “We’ll have to work fast is all,” Marge said. “We can sneak into the place as soon as they close down for the night.”

  “And hopefully we can make it in before he reports to management that his card is gone,” Celeste said. “Or they’ll deactivate it.”

  I pushed my glasses off my nose. “That’s a lot of ifs and maybes.”

  “Oh, I think that it’s a fine plan.” Celeste gave my shoulder a small pat. “Operation Lovey Dovey.” She followed the pronouncement with her honking laugh.

  I was starting to feel sick.

  “If there’s no obvious funny business, we can at least look at those jars,” Marge said. “See if they look like the ones that Mickey was working with.”

  “Not that we got a good look,” Celeste said. “We kind of got distracted.”

  I thought about that for a second. “My mom had one of the jars that Donald brought to dinner. But I think she used the jam all up. When she made the cookies.”

  Soon the shift let out for lunch, and an overeager Donald was, of course, the first one out. Oh wow, he’d worn a suit and tie to go out to our brunch. He caught sight of me and waved, a big smile on his face. The others all wore jeans with t-shirts or button downs. But in one important way, his wardrobe matched the others: some kind of plastic card was dangling from his belt.

  “Bingo” Marge squeaked, who I guessed had noticed too.

  “For goodness sake! Get down, Marge!” Celeste hissed from the floor of my back seat. “He’ll be wondering why on earth Charlie brought a friend with her on her date.”

  “Right,” Marge said, dropping to the floor. Then she grinned at me. “Go for it, Sweets. Have fun.”

  “You can do it,” Celeste said.

  I sighed. “Onward. Into battle.”

  Donald and I walked a few blocks to a café that he promised was “delish.” Along the way, he recited a million facts about the clarinet. Which is made from the wood of an African blackwood tree and was first produced in France. And I was welcome to borrow anytime his complete collection of Clarinet Journals put out by the International Clarinet Association for which he hoped to someday write.

  I tried hard to play my part. “Well, that would be just great.”

  “Hey, I have a joke for you.” He laughed so hard he almost spit all over me, even though he hadn’t gotten to the funny part. If there was a funny part.

  “Why did they arrest the clarinet player from the band?”

  For grossing out his date? “I can’t wait to hear. I always love a good joke.”

  “Because he got in treble.”

  When I saw him start to laugh at his own joke, I stood back to put some distance between me and the spit as well as his rancid breath. “Oh, Donald.” I smiled. “You are so much fun!” Was this date over yet?

  We walked until we got to a part of town that was a little nicer than the area where the factory was. The café was kind of charming with flowers on the tables and the smell of fresh-made coffee. We found a nice table by the window. I pretended to study the menu hard. If Donald thought that I needed time to think about my order, maybe he’d be quiet for just a little while.

  “What do you think you’ll get?” he asked in a nasally, whiny voice.

  “The Eggs Benedict look good.”

  “Invented in eighteen ninety-four as a cure for a hangover,” he said. Good to know, I thought. I might need a lot of drinks before the day was done.

  I managed to tune him out as he said something (lots of things) about Hollandaise Sauce and muffins and cream and who knows what other foolish things. “Absolutely fascinating.” I made myself touch his hand which felt kind of clammy. “I just can’t believe how many things you know.”

  He was leering at me. “The side dishes here are lovely.”

  I studied the menu for the side dish that was the least likely to be the subject of a long-winded anecdote.

  While I waited to order, I wondered how to get that card. It would require getting close to Donald. Sheesh. I moved my chair a little closer.

  Which caused him to leer. “I do have to say, I was thrilled to get your call.”

  I shrank away from his breath. “Well. This is so much fun.”

  Soon we had our meals in front of us. I had pancakes and a mimosa. Donald ordered a steak biscuit that came covered in thick gravy. Which was unfortunate because the man was oblivious to the bits of gravy that kept dribbling from his chin.

  Important mission or not, I had to look away. Thank goodness we were seated by a window so I could gaze at the scene outside. The lunch break was in full force with people rushing by, and drivers honking at each other when the light turned red.

  Without turning my head to look, I tried to turn my attention back to whatever it was that Donald was saying now. What was he going on and on about this time? Something about brunch being better than lunch because lunch was ordinary. “And you, Charlie, are far from ordinary.”

  He put his hand up to my hair. I laughed and touched his waist. I almost touched the card. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just reach out and grab the thing. This was just impossible.

  Encouraged by my gesture, he leaned even closer till we were almost nose to nose.

  “Well, would you look at that!” I said, turning desperately toward the window.

  “What?” He followed my gaze.

  “Would you take a look at that…building, at…that…bird.” Well, shoot. There was nothing much to see. Except�
��was that Alex across the street staring straight at me? The guy kept shooting glances at our table while pretending to look at his cell. I looked closer.

  It was him!

  He had to be following me. What gave him the right?

  “I see someone I have to speak to.” I stood, angrily, interrupting Donald in mid story. I felt bad to see how sad that made him look. It wasn’t his fault, really, that he was so absolutely boring. And I felt a bit ashamed. I was using him, leading him on for purposes of career advancement. But my motives weren’t all bad. I was also out to save the town from some major crooks.

  I touched him on the shoulder. “Sweetie, I’ll be back.”

  Then I rushed across the street to Alex. “You’re everywhere I go! Quit stalking me. Right now.”

  He touched the side of my mouth. “Did you know that you have syrup on your face? That’s really not the way to impress your date in there. He looks like a suave one.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He grinned. “It’s my job to look out for everybody, even a wannabe detective who can’t stay out of trouble.” And who’s following a big lead you haven’t figured out. Ha.

  “And speaking of trouble,” he continued, “who is that guy, anyway?” He looked across the street at Donald who seemed to be folding his napkin into an origami bird.

  Alex scrunched his nose in thought. “Do you think that guy’s your type?”

  “I asked you a question first. Are you my own personal pest who magically appears everywhere I go? What do you keep showing up for?”

  He laughed. “Because you need me. To pull you out of open graves! And rescue you from bad dates! You’re a girl in need of rescue if I ever saw one.”

  We both glanced at Donald who had decided to fly his paper bird in loops around his orange juice.

  Alex burst into laughter again, which made me even madder. “I don’t need you to rescue me. What I need you to do right now is leave me the hell alone.”

  He had the nerve to laugh again and brushed his soft hair out of his eyes. “Well, I’ll be on my way then. I can see you’re anxious to continue with your romantic lunch.” He made little kissy sounds.

  Stupid gorgeous asshole.

  “Better him than you!” I cried.

  He held his hands up in a defensive pose, and I could see his muscles strain against his tight white shirt. “I’m just trying to offer a little sound advice. As bad detectives go, you’re a pretty sexy one. And you can do better than that guy.”

  “That’s none of your damn business.”

  He winked. “As I’ve said before, you’re cute when you get mad.”

  “And you’re just like a whack-a-mole. Just when I think I’m rid of you, you always pop back up.”

  It was at that moment, I felt Donald at my side. “Hey, Charlie, you okay? Looks like this guy is causing trouble.”

  Alex took two steps back, a half grin on his face. “The birdman to the rescue!” He held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no worries, man. I was just about to leave.”

  Donald looked at me. “Is this your ex or something?”

  “No way, man.” Alex let out a loud laugh. Hey! Why was that so funny?

  “No. It’s just some jerk,” I said, “who won’t leave me alone.”

  Donald sprang into action, putting his face up close to Alex. Take that, Alex! Pow. A flash of Donald breath. Donald spoke up in a stern, deep voice that didn’t sound at all like Donald. “You stay away from Charlie. Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  Alex looked surprised. A flash of anger moved across his face. “Back away there, buddy. I told you I was leaving.”

  Donald took a step toward him, and Alex touched his shoulder as if to hold him back. And then, before I knew it, they were going at it.

  I moved in to separate them. Then I had an idea! Between the shoves and all the arms and legs moving this way and that way, Donald didn’t notice when I slipped his card off of his belt and shoved it in my pocket. Score.

  I finally pulled the two apart. They both were out of breath and both of them looked pissed. Thank God, there was no blood anywhere.

  “You stay away from me.” I gave Alex a stern look, then put my arm through Donald’s and headed back to the café.

  After I managed a few more bites of (cold) pancake, Donald walked me to my car. I didn’t see Marge’s car. I guessed that she had moved so that she and Celeste could wait in a safer part of town.

  After I clicked the button to unlock the car, he held the door open for me to get in. In a most surprising way, my heart had softened toward this doofus who’d tried so hard to rescue me. But when he leaned in close, I got a huge whiff of his breath, now mixed with gravy and orange juice. I just absolutely couldn’t move in any closer.

  “Oh, wow! I’m so late!” I quickly slid into the car.

  He looked at me, confused. “Well, thank you for the brunch.” Then he smiled. “The English used to call it brunch later in the day.”

  I started up the car. “Oh, my. How fascinating.”

  His smile got even bigger. “Next time it’s my treat. I know the perfect place. It’s a real romantic kind of place. I haven’t tried it yet. I’ve been waiting for the perfect girl.” He leaned in the open window. “We could get a very private table.” He blushed. “So we could spend a little time getting to know each other in a more romantic way.”

  “That would be…quite something.” Best not to think about it. I put my hand up in a wave. “Donald, this was lovely. And, hey, thanks for the help with that guy. He’s such a jerk.”

  He puffed up his chest. “You’re telling me! Anytime he bothers you, you give me a call.”

  I reached out to touch his hand. “You really are a nice guy.”

  I nodded, then headed out of the parking lot. As I turned a corner, I could see Donald, a confused look on his face, searching for his card.

  As soon as I was out of sight, I gave Marge a call.

  She didn’t bother with hello. “How did it go? Are you in love?” she cooed. She was having too much fun.

  “I got the card,” I said.

  “Well, of course you got the card,” she said. “You are from the police.”

  “So what comes next?” I asked.

  “Tonight at eleven, be ready to roll. We’re gonna have a girls’ night out. At the jam factory.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  That night it was dark. A silver of moon gave out the faintest dirty yellow light as I made my way to the factory door. And of course, it didn’t help that the cheap-ass city council hadn’t sprung to fix the streetlights in this part of town.

  You’d think they’d try to keep the Hudson’s people happy. The Hudson’s kept lots of citizens employed. You’d think the city could at least keep the lights on so some poor worker wouldn’t fall and break his buttocks. Like I almost did when I tripped over…well, I’m talented – I tripped over air. As I’m known to do, especially when I’m scared out of my ever-lovin’ mind.

  I caught a glimpse of glittery red moving beneath the dim lights at the factory door. Oh, good. The girls were here. I could always spot Celeste because of her brightly colored red hair lacquered down with shiny spray.

  Perhaps she should have worn a scarf. So much for lack of color. I’d been instructed to wear black. Marge didn’t want us to stand out in case we had to hide. Celeste and Marge were also in dark colors. But Celeste seemed to glow around the edges of her red hair on top to her yellow fingernails to the glittery blue polish I could see through her open-toed high heels.

  “I see that Detective Cooper is reporting in for duty.” Marge gave me a wink.

  Celeste studied me a moment. “Is your cell phone in your pocket?”

  “Why? Do you need to make a call? Cause this is not a good time.” I looked around to see if we were alone.

  “It’s an awful time,” Marge said. “That’s why she asked you that. We don’t want any buzzing in your pocket when we’re checking out the scene in there.�
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  Oh. Yeah. They didn’t want a repeat of my graveyard flub. It would be just my luck that the captain would pick this very evening to give me another call.

  The captain. Dang. I hadn’t called him back. I absolutely had to do that the next day when I woke up. And what answer would I give him? I’d decide tomorrow.

  “Cell phone’s in the car,” I said. I had learned my lesson.

  Celeste nodded and took a deep breath. “Are you ready to go in?”

  “Here we go,” I whispered. I watched Marge take the key card out of her coat pocket. Please let this thing work. Maybe Donald had been so lovesick (eww!) that he’d forgotten to report his missing card so they could deactivate it. Or maybe his mind was too full of any number of crazy things: a new bug to pin on the wall, perhaps, or a little known fact about clarinets as used in World War II.

  I was more than ready to solve this crime. Plus, I was really curious. What would we find behind these doors?

  Marge swiped the card inside a silver box next to the door. We waited; no one breathed. Then, magically, the door slid open slowly. I was thrilled and terrified all at the same time.

  Inside, the lights were dim. We could barely see. I held onto the wall to feel my way forward, hoping, perhaps, for a lit-up sign with the exact information that we needed. If You’re Looking for the Jam Room, Take a Sharp Right Down the Hall. Just to make it easier for anyone who, you know, broke in to take a peek.

  But we had no such luck. I bumped into something soft.

  “Ouch!” Marge squeaked.

  “Sorry.” Then I bumped into something harder, something that clanged against the buckle of my belt.

  “Quiet!” Celeste whispered. “And, Charlie, hang on to your glasses, hon. If you lose your glasses now, that would be some real bad news.”

  You’re telling me. So I kept one hand on my glasses and one hand on the wall. Then Celeste pulled out a lighter and held it up. Thank goodness. We could see. The light coming from her hand allowed us to see a sign on the front of a large door. Main Factory, it said. We all stared at one another.