Yelping, Ernestine and Charleston dove under the kitchen table for cover.
“How dare you!” Mr. Talmadge snatched up a butcher knife and buried it into the counter.
“Because you’re seventy and have had two heart attacks already! You don’t need more stress!” Dishes hit the floor.
“Well, they brought me back both times, didn’t they?” A meat mallet hit the table, making it shake violently. Already feeling claustrophobic, Ernestine shot out from underneath it just in time to have a teacup go whizzing past her nose and smash against a cupboard door.
Charleston yanked her back under again.
“I didn’t want to find out if a third time was going to be the charm!” An entire drawer full of cutlery clattered down onto the floor like it was raining all about the table. Ernestine desperately wanted to get out from the dark, confined space, but Charleston kept a tight grip on her for someone so tiny.
“I’m not past it yet, Pansy! I could handle opening a new restaurant at my age!”
“Like you could handle spray-painting graffiti all over poor Dill’s storefront?” More dishes smashed against the walls. “What if it had been the police who caught you instead of the Swanson twins?”
“Aw, Pansy. We’ve had to bail each other out of prison plenty of times, luv!” Mr. Talmadge’s voice softened as he said it. Things finally stopped breaking all around them. “Remember that time I had to bail you out for lobbing a tea cake at Margaret Thatcher’s hat?”
“It was her nose I was aiming for. It landed in her hat by accident,” Mrs. Talmadge said mistily. “Those were the days, weren’t they, Rupert?”
“They were, luv, weren’t they?”
“Rupert, I’m not done having days. And I’d like to have you there with me when I have them. Opening a new restaurant would kill you.”
“Aw, luv.” Now their feet moved closer together. As Mrs. Talmadge lifted up one foot, the sounds coming from above the table clearly indicated they were kissing passionately, completely having forgotten the children in their apartment.
Ernestine made a let’s go gesture to Charleston, and the two of them crawled out from beneath the cramped table.
“Now I wish I hadn’t done what I did to Mrs. MacGillicuddie,” Mr. Talmadge admitted.
Both Ernestine and Charleston froze, still on their hands and knees.
“No harm done in the end,” Mrs. Talmadge whispered. “And she’ll never know it was you.”
Charleston opened his mouth, but Ernestine quickly clapped her hand over it and shoved him out the door.
Forget about being eaten by the ravenous undead.
Now they had to worry about ending up as the main course for two unscrupulous chefs.
Chapter Ten
Zombies Found and Lost
THURSDAY, 3 AM
Before Ernestine and Charleston could make their getaway, Maya pounced on them.
“What on earth is going on?” she demanded, her lovely wiry curls shaking with fury as she stood in a pair of batik-print pajamas.
“We think we’ve just figured that out,” Charleston said helpfully as Ernestine crossed her arms and pressed her lips together defiantly.
“I told you both not to go roaming around while there’s a murderer about!” Maya propelled them toward the steps. Rarely did she give Ernestine a good talking-to, but when she did, Maya’s tone could be every bit as impressive as her own mother’s, whom Maya had once described as being like Miss Trunchbull from Matilda, only more rigid and less cuddly. “Do I have to lock you both in the attic? Every time I turn my back, the two of you are sneaking out someplace! I don’t force a lot of rules on you two, but I do ask that you tell me where you’re going!”
“You sound exactly like your mother.” Ernestine knew exactly where to stick the dagger.
Maya froze. Turning to look at her daughter, she said, “That was low.”
Before Ernestine could say anything back, a hideous scream split the air in two.
“Now what?” Maya cried. She tried to push Ernestine up the stairs to safety, but Ernestine nimbly jumped around her and headed in the opposite direction, toward the screaming.
“Probably another person getting murdered!” she called back cheerfully. If it was, Ernestine wasn’t about to miss it. As she passed by Mr. Theda and Mr. Bara’s apartment, Mr. Theda stuck his head out the door, looked wildly about as though expecting to see the zombie hordes massed in the hallway, and then returned to his apartment when it became clear there was probably nothing more interesting going on than yet another murder attempt. At least he had the sense to bolt his door after he shut it.
The real reason for Mr. Theda both looking out into the hallway and then double-locking his door became clear when Ernestine arrived in Mrs. MacGillicuddie’s apartment to find her landlady still screaming.
“They’re gone!” Mrs. MacGillicuddie waved her hand dramatically toward the cabinet that had stored all of the videos of Mr. Theda’s old soap opera, Torrid Dilemmas.
“What’s gone?” Detective Kim demanded, racing back to her apartment from the back garden as Mrs. MacGillicuddie collapsed onto her couch.
For a moment, Ernestine thought her landlady was going to give Mr. Theda away. Instead, she laid back limply on the settee. “The zombies, darling. It’s such a relief. Go back to fingerprinting my koi pond or whatever it is you need to do to catch that awful zombie impersonator who tried to kill darling little Mr. Sangfroid, the sweet old thing.”
“We haven’t actually ruled Mr. Sangfroid out as a suspect,” Detective Kim pointed out.
“Then you should probably run along and do so, darling. Go on, I’m fine.”
Peeping out from beneath her one hand, she made sure Detective Kim left as she waved him off with the fingers of the other. Then she hopped up and fished the shotgun out of the umbrella stand where Ernestine had deposited it earlier in the day. In a no-nonsense voice very different from her usual drawl, she said, “Right. I’ll fix him. There’s one person in this house who knows how to commit a proper murder.”
“Mrs. MacGillicuddie!” Ernestine grabbed her by the nightgown to keep her from marching out of the apartment with her weapon, giving her mother enough time to snatch it out of their landlady’s hands.
“Maya Montgomery! You give that back to me this instant!” Mrs. MacGillicuddie tried unsuccessfully to swipe it back, but Maya managed to hold her off. Not knowing what else to do with it, she dumped it back into the umbrella stand right before the Talmadges burst through the door.
“What is it? What’s going on?” Mrs. Talmadge gasped.
“Murderer!” Ernestine shrieked as dramatically as she could, being sure to hop up onto the ottoman so everyone could see her. Eduardo had just walked into the room, but upon hearing her accusation, he rolled his eyes and walked back out again.
Mr. and Mrs. Talmadge clutched each other. In a quavering voice, Mrs. Talmadge asked, “W-w-w-what do you mean?”
Detective Kim ran back into the room, panting. For such a young guy, he really needed to get into better shape or he’d never be able to outrun the zombie masses, in Ernestine’s opinion. Of course, she supposed that would at least give everyone else time to escape. Maybe Detective Kim was just an especially dedicated public servant, one willing to get eaten for the greater good.
“Arrest them!” she declared, still pointing at the Talmadges. “They’re the ones who’ve been trying to off Mrs. MacGillicuddie!”
“Rupert!” This time Mrs. MacGillicuddie really did collapse onto the settee. Charleston rushed to her side as she added, “Pansy!”
“It wasn’t us!” Mrs. Talmadge cried as Mrs. MacGillicuddie thrust Charleston aside and reached into the umbrella stand. “No!”
However, instead of a shotgun, Mrs. MacGillicuddie tried to shoot them with an actual umbrella. It popped open impressively but did no worse damage than causing Mrs. Talmadge to throw herself protectively (and rather sweetly) in front of her husband just as he tried to throw himself
in front of her. Instead, they both collided together and fell to the floor.
“Oh, drat.” Mrs. MacGillicuddie tossed the umbrella away, but before she could get to the shotgun, Detective Kim stepped in between her and the Talmadges, helping them up.
“What’s this all about?” he demanded.
Grabbing Charleston by the hand, Ernestine yanked him up onto the ottoman. “We heard them, didn’t we, Charleston? Confessing to the murder.”
“Yup,” Charleston agreed, well, agreeably.
“We never said any such thing!” Mrs. Talmadge gasped.
“You did,” Ernestine argued back. Pointing at first to Mr. Talmadge and then Mrs. Talmadge, Ernestine said, “You said you wished you hadn’t done what you did to Mrs. MacGillicuddie. And then you said that she’d never know it was you.”
“Oh. That.” Mr. Talmadge flushed in shame.
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Talmadge closed her eyes as though developing the same headache that seemed to lurk between Detective Kim’s brows when Ernestine was around. “You’d better tell them, Rupert.”
Mr. Talmadge muttered something unintelligible.
“What’s that?” everyone asked at the same time.
Heaving a sigh, Mr. Talmadge said more clearly, “I said that I’ve been using real cream and butter in all of her low-fat dishes for the past week now.”
“Come again?” Detective Kim blinked.
Ernestine grabbed Charleston and yanked him down onto the floor as their landlady sailed over the ottoman in a murderous rage.
Wielding the umbrella, she whacked Mr. Talmadge about the head and shoulders with it. “You monster! That’s why I’ve gained five pounds! I’ll never forgive you for this, you beast!”
Detective Kim and his officers swarmed them. By that time, Mrs. Talmadge had gone after Mrs. MacGillicuddie with the golf putter also tucked inexplicably into the umbrella stand. Thankfully, no one thought to grab the shotgun as Maya hustled both Ernestine and Charleston out of the room and back up to the attic.
“But I still have a ton of questions I need to ask everybody!” Ernestine protested. “Where was everyone tonight? Do they all have alibis? What were the Swanson twins doing over by Dill’s store? Was Mr. Theda the zombie? He certainly took advantage of the murder attempt to get his videotapes back! And where was Eduardo? Do we know for sure he was poisoned? Maybe he was faking!”
“Ernestine, you’re babbling,” her mother said firmly, shutting and locking the door. Then she pointed at their bedroom and plunked herself down on the couch to make it clear there would be no more sneaking out. “I’m calling you both into school sick tomorrow. Neither one of you has gotten a decent night’s sleep in almost three days! You need your rest or you’ll both end up in the hospital with pneumonia from all this wandering about in the cold.”
Under normal circumstance, Ernestine would have been outraged by this speech of her mom’s. She hadn’t missed a day of school since kindergarten and all of that… unpleasantness with Rocco. Even then, she had only missed one day so she could give a rousing speech encouraging the jury to execute him. Well, technically, she was only supposed to testify against him, but Ernestine was never one to give up the opportunity to make a rousing speech.
Anyhow, Maya had a point about their lack of sleep. Plus, if she stayed home from school, she’d be able to grill the residents of MacGillicuddie House to see which one of them was the would-be murderer. Assuming, of course, that it wasn’t one of Mrs. MacGillicuddie’s family members, which was personally where Ernestine was placing her money.
Speaking of money, she snuggled up in her top bunk with her big wad of cash in one hand and baseball bat in the other, and fell almost instantly to sleep. If zombies were going to attack tonight, someone else would just have to deal with it for once.
In the morning, she slept until quite late, not hopping out of bed until the sun was high in the sky. Charleston still lay in the bottom bunk, his glasses askew and a little smile on his lips. He, too, clutched his money like it was a teddy bear, but at least his baseball bat was close at hand. Letting him sleep, Ernestine went out to the kitchen. On the counter, she found a bowl filled with pancake batter but no pancakes. The egg carton was still out, as was the bag of flour, and she could hear music over in her mom’s studio. Apparently, she’d gotten distracted before actually making Ernestine pancakes.
Which was fine because she shouldn’t have even been making pancakes in the first place. What she should have been making was a birthday cake, Ernestine thought grumpily. Stupid gallery opening.
After cleaning up the mess from the almost-breakfast, Ernestine took a very long, very hot bubble bath. As she soaked, she took out her notebook and made a list of suspects:
MR. TALMADGE—Would inherit enough money to open his restaurant if Mrs. MacGillicuddie died. Caught spray painting Dill’s store shortly after the murder attempt but could have been establishing an alibi. Likelihood of guilt: MEDIUM.
MRS. TALMADGE—Would prefer not to see Mr. Talmadge inherit and open the restaurant, so has nothing to gain from Mrs. MacGillicuddie’s death. Likelihood of guilt: EXTREMELY LOW.
MR. THEDA—Would inherit Mrs. MacGillicuddie’s incriminating tapes if she died. But clearly stole them from her tonight. So no need to murder her for his inheritance after all? (Of course, she could always get them back.) Likelihood of guilt: ??????
MR. BARA—Would do anything for Mr. Theda. Likelihood of guilt: ALSO ??????
EDUARDO—Stands to inherit quite a bit of money when Mrs. MacGillicuddie dies but sick in bed at time of murder attempt. Of course, could all be a ruse. Maybe he never really drank the poison and only pretended to be sick. Likelihood of guilt: ??????
RODNEY—Hates his mother and wants her money. Likelihood of guilt: EXTREMELY HIGH.
AURORA BOREALIS—Hates her grandmother and wants her money but extremely lazy. Likelihood of guilt: MEDIUM.
LYNDON—Likes his aunt but wants her money. Completely incompetent. Likelihood of wanting to kill someone: HIGH. Likelihood of being even sort of successful at it: EXTREMELY LOW. Overall likelihood of guilt: LOW.
MR. SANGFROID—Stands to inherit some very valuable paintings when Mrs. MacGillicuddie dies. Hates her and everyone else. Found at scene of the crime but might have been framed. Likelihood of guilt: ??????
Ernestine tapped her lip with her pen. It was quite a long list, but it occurred to her that there were two more names she should add to it, though they only required one additional entry:
THE SWANSON TWINS—What were they doing over by Dill’s store at 12:30 in the morning? Likelihood of guilt: ??????
Hm. Too many questions marks and also too many suspects to deal with in one day. So Ernestine decided to scratch off the least likely suspects as well as the one still stuck in the hospital and therefore unavailable to be grilled. That left her with:
MR. TALMADGE
MR. THEDA
MR. BARA
EDUARDO
RODNEY
AURORA BOREALIS
THE SWANSON TWINS
Getting out of the tub, Ernestine dried herself off. Looking in the mirror, she grimaced at the mess that was her hair, then shrugged and pulled it up into the neatest bun she could. After tidying up in the bathroom, she headed out to the kitchen to find Charleston giving Maya lessons on how to make pancakes.
“You see,” Charleston explained, glasses askew and hair a mess, “the lemon zest helps bring out the fruitiness of the blueberries.”
As Maya watched with interest, he poured the batter onto the griddle.
“Where did you learn that?” Maya asked, impressed.
“Tllmdgs,” Charleston mumbled, taking a bite of bacon. Ernestine took that to mean either “Talmadges” or else “Tall midgets.”
When the pancakes finished cooking, Charleston whisked them onto the plate, dusted each one with powdered sugar, and then served them up as the rest of the family sat down at the table.
“I need the two of you to deposit this fo
r us today.” Ernestine brought out the two stacks of cash Mrs. MacGillicuddie had given them last night. She also took out the stack Mrs. MacGillicuddie had given her earlier and divided it evenly between herself and her stepbrother.
“Wow! You’re giving me half of that, too?” Charleston missed his mouth with his fork, delivering the bite of pancake it was carrying to his ear.
“Of course. I wouldn’t have even been there to save Mrs. MacGillicuddie if you weren’t helping me start the apocalypse.”
“There’s an apocalypse about?” Frank set down his cup of coffee and blinked about with interest, trying to spot it. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“I’ll let you know when it gets here.” Maya laid her hand reassuringly on her husband’s.
He smiled at her and then seemed to notice all of the money on the table for the first time. “Where did all of this come from? Have we sold something and I’ve forgotten about it?”
“No, the kids keep sneaking out and saving people from certain death,” Maya sighed.
“Wow! Like superheroes? Righteous, man!” Frank beamed approvingly, causing Maya to sigh again and Charleston to smile and sit up straighter.
Ernestine, too, liked his way of looking at things. Superheroes of the Apocalypse. Yes, she definitely could get used to being called that. It would lead well into: Montgomery for President: Superhero of the Apocalypse, Leader of the Free World.
After breakfast, they all divided up the day’s maintenance work. Ernestine immediately claimed the mouse problem in Mr. Theda and Mr. Bara’s apartment, while Charleston chose feeding the various chickens, swans, peacocks, and other fowl that lived in the carriage house when the Swanson twins weren’t using them for their act.
“If you see the Swanson twins, keep an eye on them,” she warned in a low voice as they headed out of the apartment.
“Why?”
“They might try to murder you.” Technically, Ernestine supposed anyone might murder anyone else at any given time. You never could tell what was going through someone else’s head. Still, if the twins were murderers, then Ernestine figured there was an above average chance they might murder someone asking questions about the first murder. Murders were probably like lies. As soon as you did it once, you had to keep on doing it to cover up the first one.
Ernestine, Catastrophe Queen Page 13
