Amazing Gracie

by Teresa Quill

  Gracie told John that Jigsaw had been there and beat Patty again. And she told him that the woman hid in dirty laundry and had a panic attack. John almost called Tom when she told him Patty had not shared that information with the police.

  However, she didn’t tell him her concern about Buck. Buck had gone toe-to-toe with that evil man and chased him off a few times in the past. Had he gone too far this time? Patty didn’t say Buck had been there, but she didn’t say he wasn’t.

  Buck wasn’t a killer any more than Patty was, but he was supposed to borrow a truck, and a truck pulling a boat knocked John over. Could it have been Patty’s brother? Who knew what a person was capable of when pushed to the limit. But Buck? He wouldn’t even play basketball in high school because it was too rough. He was on the chess team instead.

  She tossed and turned in bed, waiting for sleep that never came. Tictac crawled out of the covers to the foot, grumbling. She really thought John would come home, but the crazy old man was sitting out there with the boat. After a fitful night, she woke when John tapped on her door.

  “Gracie, come on, I made your tea.”

  She slipped on a robe, grabbed her clothes, and lumbered past him on the way to the bathroom. While she dressed, she heard him stomping around.

  “I thought you weren’t going to leave that boat.” She sipped her tea and checked the contents of her purse.

  “Wally went with me last night. I left him by the alley in a folding chair to watch the boat.”

  “You left Wally out in the cold?”

  “He has a blanket. He’s fine. Besides, how would you get to Patty’s?”

  “I was going to call a cab for Irene and me. She put the teacup in the sink and shook the cobwebs out of her head.

  “Nah, you shouldn’t have to spend your money on that. Not with me around to take care of you.” He said it so easily, like he expected to watch over her. Like they were a real couple.

  A few minutes later, clomping and rustling in the hall was followed by a knock at the door. John answered.

  “Here’s the picnic basket.” Irene pushed past him and plopped the basket on John’s table.

  “At eight thirty in the morning? You know you don’t have to come with us.” John scrunched his face.

  Irene wrestled with another large bag she carried in from the hallway. “Wally told me what you’re up to. You boys have been out all night, and I know you’re hungry. Besides, it’s going to be warm today. Spring has sprung. We can pull into the picnic area and wait there while we keep an eye on things. Even if the cops come by we’ve got a good cover.”

  John rolled his eyes. “A picnic?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” She plopped the container on the table. “The church ladies made a casserole for Patty. The ladies know you’re stopping by, since you’re close to the family. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about your real mission.” Irene opened the container and set the casserole on the table. She pulled her bird watching binoculars out of her bag. “John, you can’t be running around the house, you’ll spook Patty.”

  “And me, too,” Gracie added.

  “I’m calling Tom at 12:01. I know I promised, but holding back information pertinent to the case is killing me. We could all be arrested for obstruction.”

  Gracie gave him a hard look. “You can’t leave Wally in the alley. We’ll pick him up on the way. Irene, I am glad you brought food for that poor man. John, you promised to trust me.”

  “Okay. But I’m calling today, as soon as you know something, even if it’s 10 o’clock.” John pooched out his lip in a stubborn sign of defiance.

  “I will tell you as soon as I know the whole story. Then you can call Tom. I promise.”

  John carried the picnic basket. Irene had her bag of whatever it was. Gracie took her purse and the casserole. She only prayed Irene could keep John in line. And they left.

  Chapter 12

  John pulled into the roadside stop after collecting Wally from the alley. From here they could see through the bushes to the front of the house and to the dead end road that led to the alley where the boat sat.

  The roadside stop was leftover from an era when the road was considered a highway. Two sturdy picnic tables, green with moss, sat by the hedge row between the picnic area and Patty’s yard. The arched drive widened enough for two cars. John and Wally unloaded the basket and drinks while Irene covered the table with a plastic tablecloth. Gracie covered the seats with old towels before she carried the casserole to Patty’s.

  “I don’t like this.” John pushed a branch aside that blocked his binoculars. He should be the one interrogating Patty. His technique had proved invaluable when he was on the force. But he kept telling himself Gracie was amazing and she knew the family.

  “Gracie will be fine. I don’t know why, but people just tell her things.” Wally patted him on the back. That was true. Considering that Patty had been beaten a few days ago, a little patience was not much to ask, but waiting to call Tom was killing him.

  Soon the three of them stared through their binoculars into the front room, watching Patty pour coffee for Gracie. They didn’t hear Tom until the patrol car door slammed. They jumped in unison.

  “What are you doing?” Tom stood, hands on hips behind them, looking at each one like a mom catching kids in the cookie jar.

  “We are having a picnic.” Irene smiled, a little too brightly. John hid his binoculars behind his back.

  “At nine in the morning? With binoculars? Pointed at Patty Pouzel’s house?” Tom gave them a sideways look.

  “Birds, Officer. We’re members of the Friendly Arms Bird Watching Club.” Irene lifted her chin high and puffed up her chest. It was farfetched, but not exactly a lie.

  John looked everywhere but at Tom. He should tell him about the boat, but he promised, and he couldn’t break a promise to Gracie. Not again. Darn that woman.

  “Want a sandwich?” Wally offered from the table, which was set with four glasses.

  “No thanks. Where’s your friend, John?”

  “Gracie took a casserole to Patty.” Not a lie but he almost choked not telling him more.

  “From the ladies at church. That poor woman had a tough week.” Irene fiddled with the binoculars that hung at her chest.

  “Hmmm. If you know anything about the Jigsaw situation, you’ll let me know, right?” Tom gave them a sideways look. “Is Gracie in there talking about the murder?”

  “I don’t know.” Irene looked toward the sky. “Maybe, after all, she is taking her a sympathy casserole. You know we do that for all bereaved families in the church.”

  “It’s such a beautiful day, we thought we’d have a picnic and watch birds while we waited for her,” Wally chimed in.

  “A picnic,” Tom repeated.

  “Yessir,” the three of them answered together. John thought he’d be sick.

  Tom’s sour expression said he didn’t believe a word. “I have to tend to something else, but I’ll be back later.”

  Tom drove away, slowly. They all returned to the hedge as soon as he was out of sight. Two sandwiches, a soda, and three antacids later, John was ready to jump out of his skin. Ten-thirty. Women talk, a lot. But was she talking about the case? So far, he’d seen them drink coffee and eat coffee cake. Patty brought a sweater for Gracie to examine, and now they were perusing a book or photo album. Wally and Irene noshed on brownies at the table. He missed the flask that he had hidden in the apartment. After he dumped the bottle in the sink he’d moved it from the car to his bedroom. Funny, he missed it less the more time he spent with Gracie but sitting here, just waiting, he felt that desire to take the edge off. Maybe, just a nip. Instead, he drank a bottle of water. He hated stakeouts.

  “Oh shit!” John groaned. A white truck pulled into the driveway and behind the house. “That’s the truck.” It came out a whisper, then louder to Irene and Wally, “That’s the truck.”

  He saw two men in cammo hats but not their faces. The three seniors ran
farther down the hedge and poked binoculars through. The back door slammed as one man entered. The other man leaned on the truck smoking a cigarette.

  “We have to get her out of there!” When Wally started toward the house, John blocked his way with a quick arm.

  “We can’t do that. We don’t know what the situation is inside.” The homicide cop in him took over. John’s thoughts ran through worst-case scenarios. “We could endanger Gracie and Patty. Irene, do you have your cell phone?

  She pulled the pink case from her pocket and turned it on. Then she turned it on again. Then she shook it. “It’s dead. I guess I played Words and Friends too long.”

  “Oh crap. I have to find Tom.” What a dilemma. God only knew what was happening to Gracie in there, but barging in could get her killed. He was headed to the car when he saw Irene sneaking across Patty’s front yard. The man in back couldn’t see her, but if someone was looking out the front window they would. “What the hell is she doing?”

  Wally shrugged. John had no option but to watch. He was in pretty good shape for being seventy-eight but not able to take down a couple of younger men. He was trained not to be foolish, and yet, he let Gracie talk him into not reporting that boat. Damn. Helpless, he stared through the binoculars.

  Irene scooped a few pebbles out of the driveway and stood behind a tall shrub near the house. Tink. A pebble hit the front window. He saw Gracie glance outside, but she didn’t take much notice. Tink. Tink. Irene threw two more, then another hand drew the curtain.

  Oh God. He didn’t pray much, but he was ready to make bargains with God now. Irene came running back. Oh shit.

  The front door opened, and Gracie backed halfway out before a man’s arm pulled her back inside. Behind the bushes, Irene’s eyes went wide. “Gracie is being held hostage!”

  Okay God, save my Gracie and I’ll quit drinking forever. I’ll go to church. Maybe I’ll even go to Bible Study. As if in answer to his prayer, Tom pulled back into the picnic area. Irene ran to his car.

  “Tom, Gracie is being held hostage inside.” Irene grabbed his arm and dragged him along the hedge to where he could see the truck and the man smoking another cigarette.

  “John, what’s the situation?” Tom spoke softly while he peered at the smoker.

  “Two suspects, two hostages. That’s the truck I saw with the boat. There are two men. One inside with Gracie and Patty. I didn’t see what he looked like. He drew the curtain closed. When Gracie tried to come out, he pulled her back inside. And,” he drew a deep breath, “the fishing boat is back down the dirt alley, too.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “I was a homicide detective. I’m old, not stupid. And, I’m sober as the Pope. Save my Gracie, Tom.” John put a shaky hand on Tom’s arm and met his eyes.

  “Okay John. I believe you. You know the protocol. Take your friends and get in your car. We have to clear the area.”

  “Why don’t you just knock on the door?” Irene asked.

  “We can’t take chances like that.” Tom peered through the bush.

  John spoke quietly beside him. “I’ll stay until your backup gets here, then we’ll beat tail out the back way. I promise.”

  “You’ll leave now, John. Don’t argue with me. I can’t be worrying about you while I’m trying to help Gracie and Patty.”

  John’s shoulders slumped but he nodded. He was right. No distractions needed. Besides, Irene would find a way to get involved. He couldn’t put Irene and Wally in danger, too.

  Irene grabbed her purse and the brownies before climbing into the back seat of the Chrysler. John followed Wally to the car. How could he drive away from Patty’s house leaving his sweet Gracie trapped with a murderer? He swiped away a tear. That dear woman, what if something happened? What would he do without her? He didn’t know when, but he’d become dependent on her. He’d be content to sit on the couch with her every night and never take another sip of that fine whiskey again. Yes, he’d promised but now he meant it more than ever.

  Tom leaned into his open window.

  “Take them home, John. They’ll probably set up the command post at your end of town.” His radio blared. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  John stared at Tom another long minute, knowing the deputy wanted him out of the way. Tom needed to follow protocol and get the old farts to a safe place away from the action. But damn it, John wanted to be there.

  “Gracie’s special, Tom.” His voice shook a bit.

  Tom nodded. “I’ll come by as soon as they send someone to cover this end of the roadblock.” He slipped into his patrol car to answer the radio.

  John drove home, circling away from Patty’s house toward the Friendly Arms.

  In the parking lot, Irene asked if he was okay. He said he’d handled these situations all the time when he was on the force. No problem. Bullshit. Irene and Wally hurried inside. No doubt the whole building would know about Gracie in a few minutes.

  He stared at his empty hands. When did he become so useless. How could he help his Gracie? She was on her own with a killer.

  Tom pulled into the Friendly Arms parking lot as John was getting out of his car. He motioned John into the passenger’s seat of the cruiser. John jumped in, praying for good news.

  “The command post is set up on that Elm Street hayfield by the bus stop,” Tom spoke quietly.

  “That’s a good place for it. About a block from Patty’s but well out of sight. Have they brought in the SWAT team?”

  Tom nodded. They sat in mutual silence until the radio blared.

  “The SWAT team is on the way.” Tom fiddled with the call radio. “I can’t take you over there, but I’ll keep you posted, if you don’t share it with the whole building.”

  “You know you can trust me on this, Tom. I worked homicide eighteen years.”

  “I can, if you’re not drinking.”

  John hung his head. “I’m not drinking, Tom. I haven’t been, and I won’t. I swear to God.”

  His drinking had done this. He only drank when he was bored, but that was not a good excuse anymore. If he hadn’t been on that corner, Gracie wouldn’t be in this mess. If he hadn’t pushed her into helping him, she wouldn’t be at Patty’s house. He’d sworn he’d stop. He would never break that promise to her. Oh, Gracie. What had he done?

  The radio blared again and he recognized the codes. The SWAT team was in place and the negotiator was there. The helicopter circled close by in case the suspect made a run for it.

  “I have to get back to the command post.” Tom put the car in reverse as soon as John closed the door.

  Irene and Wally waited inside the front door, peering out the window. He moved slowly toward them, shoulders slumped. He explained the situation.

  “SWAT team? Why didn’t Tom just bust in the door when we were there?”

  “And then we might have three hostages in there, or worse. There are reasons they follow procedure.” Most of those reasons were learned through failed attempts to rescue hostages. No risky chances were worth Gracie’s life. “This is making me crazy. I just want to be close to the action. I need to. . .”

  “Why isn’t Tom going to Patty’s?”

  “A command post is set up about a block away on Elm Street. It keeps them out of danger.” He had seen hostage situations go bad. Having the post out of the line of fire was just sensible. Oh, Gracie.

  “Well, nothing says we can’t go for a walk to Elm St. I’d love to see if Sunny Orchard is home. I know she likes brownies.” Irene scooped the brownies off of the table and headed out the door. Wally and John exchanged a grin and followed.

  Chapter 13

  After Gracie handed the casserole to Patty, she turned off her cell phone. She was not taking chances that John would talk Irene into calling her while she talked to Patty.

  Halfway through her third cup of coffee, they moved to the living room, talking about Jigsaw and what might have happened. They both jumped when the back door slammed.

  “Buck
!” Patty jumped to hug her big brother.

  “I brought my friend to help get that pile of wood out of your way.” He stood with his back to the front window.

  Tink. Something hit the window. Gracie looked up but didn’t see anything. Tink. Tink. It happened again.

  “Those darn cardinals. They’re always flying into this window.” Buck drew the curtain shut.

  “They probably see their reflection and think it’s another bird in their territory.” Gracie had observed this kind of behavior with the birdwatcher’s club.

  “Patty said you heard about Jigsaw.” Gracie wanted to see his reaction.

  Buck crossed his arms. “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry.”

  “I understand that. She also told me he was here. I have convinced her to tell the police.” Gracie put a soothing hand on Patty’s knee. “She can’t hold back evidence.”

  “I suppose not.” He turned his back to them so Gracie couldn’t gauge his reaction.

  “She thinks whoever did this used my neighbor’s boat to put him in the river,” Patty said.

  Buck stiffened.

  Gracie held her breath. She shouldn’t have told Patty about the boat, but she was trying to get all the information she could before they called the police. John would be telling them about the boat anyway. Gracie thought maybe it would spark a thought about what might have happened.

  She’d known Buck since he was a little boy, but he’d moved away several years ago. Had he changed that much? If Buck killed Jigsaw, would he turn on her? Maybe John had been right. The police should handle this, but Patty would crumble. There was more to this story, but it was time to let someone with experience take over.

  “I think I’ll go now, but I’ll come back later.” Gracie picked up her purse and headed to the door, but when she stepped outside, Buck took her arm and drew her back inside.

  “Don’t go.” He shut the door. “Miss Gracie, I don’t want the police bothering Patty anymore. Please, sit down.”