Pickled

by Deany Ray

  “Way,” Celeste replied. “We had official business in the park.” She must have been finished with her noisy plan. Had she given up or was she waiting for the perfect moment to set it all in motion?

  “But our business in the park had nothing to do with you,” Marge said, as if this might somehow reassure them.

  “We found your finger!” Celeste said. “The police have it for safekeeping.”

  “A panda we were looking for had your finger. We found the panda just as he was nibbling on it,” I said.

  Spike and Baxter glared at us in disbelief. They were looking from Marge to Celeste to me and then to each other like they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

  “Are you high or something?” Baxter said.

  “No, we are not high!” Marge cried.

  “I could use a little something right about now. Does anyone have a cigarette?” Celeste asked.

  “All of you shut up!” Spike said.

  He was looking intently at us and thought about it. “Huh. That’s some crazy shit. That’s too weird for you to make up, so I suspect it might be true. Why were your there, again?”

  Marge put on her official investigator’s voice. “We were on assignment. We had brought some pickles. So we could catch the panda.”

  The two men exchanged confused looks again.

  “These broads,” Baxter said slowly. “These broads just ain’t right.”

  Spike looked at me and grinned. “Too bad we have to kill them. Or should I just chop off a body part? This one right here is really kind of cute.”

  I got the creeps and shuddered. Okay, I needed to distract this guy a little more. The stupid happy music was still playing from the laptop that Tall Dude had left open with the alien game in progress. Spike must play it too, since the Tall Dude had been so intent on beating his boss’s score.

  I tried to remember something, anything, Brad had said about the game. He was always catching aliens when he should be making dinner conversation, helping with the dishes or doing anything at all.

  Spike sadly shook his head. “I don’t think I have a choice, boys. Pretty as they are, I think we have to kill them.”

  The sick feeling in my stomach rose.

  “Did you know that a polka-dotted goblin from the planet Koopataka is hiding behind a mushroom in the lower left-hand corner?” I asked.

  Was that what Brad has said? At least I think I had that right.

  Spike looked at me, amazed. Then he picked up his friend’s computer and punched hard at the keys. He let out a whoop of victory. “That’s the rarest alien ever.” He peered down hard at me. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “Tap him on the nose,” I said, “and you get Super Power X.” How did I remember this stupid kind of stuff?

  He tapped harder on the keys. “Super Power X! I have Super Power X! Do you know all the things a guy can do with Super Power X?”

  I swear that he stared down at the laptop, with his fingers flying, for at least five minutes without ever looking up. I never thought I’d say it, but thank you, thank you, Brad.

  “You three are some weird investigators,” Spike said.

  While Spike was busy with his game, a door creaked open from upstairs, and a woman’s voice called down. “Albert Stephen Jones the Third! You promised me three hours ago that you’d take out the trash!”

  A look of mortification swept across Spike’s face. “I’m busy right now, Ma! I told you, it’s real important business stuff.”

  What the…? His Ma? Where the heck were we? Did Spike live with his…mother? I turned to look at Marge and Celeste, who had the same I-can’t-believe-what-I’m-hearing-looks plastered on their faces.

  “Did you eat all the little carrots that I put on your plate? Eat your carrots, Spikey!” she sang out. “Don’t just eat the meat and the potatoes. I made the carrots real soft like you like them. With butter and with honey.”

  “Ma!” He threw down the laptop while Baxter tried to control his laughter.

  Spike buried his face in his hands. He’d lost some serious street cred at the moment. Would a boy who lived with his mother be less likely to shoot you in the face? I hoped that might be true.

  “So,” I asked, still shocked. “Is she in the business too?”

  Spike looked up at me, furious. “No way, man! What kind of person would do that? Go into this kind of business with his mother?”

  Baxter grabbed his pistol and aimed it at my face. “Don’t you talk about his mother. That woman up there in the kitchen? That’s woman’s one good lady. That woman feeds us real good. She ain’t into crime.”

  “She thinks we’re watching TV and playing games on the computer,” Tall Dude chimed in, who had reappeared during the commotion. He handed Spike a bowl of carrots. “You mother said eat some more of these.”

  “And don’t think she’s gonna come down and save your stupid asses,” Baxter said to me. “Cause she’s got real bad knees. She hardly ever comes down here.”

  Tall Dude sunk down into the couch. “Which means that we can store stuff and not get barraged with questions.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. If I screamed, I bet she’d come down. Not that I planned on trying that soon. That might be Plan B if Marge and Celeste weren’t up to something. A scream might anger these short-fused guys with pistols at the ready.

  Still, it made me feel better to know that she was up there washing dishes or whatever, living a normal life. It made it seem less likely that I would die down in her basement.

  I glanced over at Celeste, wondering what was up with her. She still had her hands behind her back as if they were tied up. Of course, that might just be a ruse.

  “Spike!” His mother called again, causing him to bristle. “I can’t squeeze another thing into this smelly trash. When are you going to take the trash out? And I can’t reach the top shelf to get my pills for vertigo.”

  Spike shot a look at Tall Dude.

  “Okay, I’m on it, boss.” Tall Dude trotted up the stairs.

  But Spike’s mother wasn’t finished. “And ten more minutes of video games, then you need to practice your piano.”

  Spike sunk back into the couch, one hand covering his face.

  His mother continued. “That was our agreement if you came back to live at home.”

  Tall Dude stopped short on the stairs and shrugged. “I can’t help you out with that one. I don’t have an ear for music.”

  “I can help!” Marge said. “I know lots of lovely songs.”

  Once again, the upstairs door flew open. “Is something squeaking down there, Spikey? I thought you fixed the doorknob. That squeaking hurts my ears.”

  “I fixed it, Ma,” he said, glaring across the room at Marge.

  “What? I didn’t hear a thing,” Marge said.

  “Spike!” his mother called. “There it is again, that squeaking.”

  He stared angrily at Marge. “That was another problem that I’m just about to fix.”

  Baxter went back into the room with all the boxes, leaving us alone with Spike.

  “Okay,” Spike said, standing up. “The time has come for us to go for a little ride. It’s time to say bye-bye world. Your little adventure as spies is coming to an end. You three are going down.”

  He pointed the gun at me, then he wildly looked around the room, pointing in at Marge and then Celeste in turn. “Stand up, ladies. Head on out. This was supposed to be my day off.” He glanced at the TV. “Football starts in thirty minutes. First you screw with my little business with your snooping around and then you make me miss my game.”

  “Why don’t you let us sneak on out?” Marge asked. “Then you won’t miss the kickoff. And everything you told us will be our little secret.”

  I watched her wiggle on the floor while she tried to stand up with her hands behind her back. I hadn’t managed to get myself up either. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

  “We won’t say a word,” Celeste chimed in. “If
you’ll please just let us go. Think about it. You don’t want to do what you’re about to do. Right now, your only worry is a counterfeiting charge. And kidnapping, if they find out. Although we’d never tell. But if you got charged with murder?”

  “Three murders!” Marge squeaked. “You’d be locked away forever.” She kept bobbing forward, then falling back as she tried to get up off the floor. I hoped that, secretly, her hands behind her back were free from any ropes.

  “You’d miss a lot of football,” I tried. This guy seemed to like his games.

  Spike stopped and scratched his head. “Shit. You’re messing with my head.” He kicked the couch. “Head out now, but quietly. If you’d kept your noses out of my business, I wouldn’t have this hassle. Bunch of nosy broads. Here, let me pull you to your feet.”

  He was heading my way when I heard footsteps thundering down the stairs.

  “Hey, Spike, hold up!” Tall Dude yelled.

  Spike kicked the couch again.

  “What the hell?” he yelled. “I got business to attend to. And the game’s about to start. Plus, we’re all out of beer. Which idiot forgot the beer? This day really sucks.”

  “Tell me about it,” Marge said, who sounded close to tears.

  “Your mom says you have lawn to mow,” Tall Dude breathlessly reported. He spoke in a soft voice, afraid to be the bearer of bad tidings to an already angry Spike. “She says you’ve been promising for days. She says she’s mortified about what the neighbors think.”

  Spike got up in his face. “I’m a man of business. I don’t have time to mow no lawn.”

  Still fearful, Tall Dude shrugged. “I think the lawn looks fine.”

  “Spikey! Do it now,” his mother yelled.

  “I just have to run an errand,” he called up the stairs. “I’ll get it done today.”

  “No TV till you mow the lawn!”

  He kicked at the couch again.

  “The garden club is coming over in the morning,” she called. “It has to be done this instant. I can’t have them thinking I live in a field of weeds. I’d be so ashamed.”

  And she’d really be embarrassed by the fine young son holding three victims hostage in her basement and threatening to shoot them dead. You can’t live a thing like that down, no matter how fine and delicate your petunias might be in the spring.

  “Baxter’s coming up to do it,” Spike called. In the adjoining room, Baxter turned around, surprised, three boxes in his arms.

  “No! You’re coming up yourself, and you’re coming up right now. We had an agreement when you moved back home. And today’s the flower show. You said that you’d take me, and help me pick some flowers for tomorrow’s little party.”

  He paused. His face turned even redder. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right up. I just have to drive some lady friends back home. It won’t take long at all.” My chest seized up with dread.

  “Oh, send them up!” his mother called. “They can give me their opinion on the new colors for the kitchen.”

  “They’re kind of busy, Ma!”

  “No, we’re not!” Marge squeaked.

  I don’t know who glared at her harder: Celeste or the seething Spike.

  “I’m really good at colors,” Marge whispered, somewhat cowed.

  “Would your friends like some ice cream while you mow the lawn? Are you coming now?” came the voice from the top of the long staircase.

  “Can’t you give me thirty minutes?” Spike walked up two steps and called. His voice took on a pleading tone.

  “I made your favorite mac and cheese last night,” she said angrily. “And you give me attitude.”

  “Today! I promise, Ma.”

  “Promises are golden; hard work is even better! Hard work gets results! Remember Helpful Harry from your favorite little book?”

  “Please. Just let me run the girls home.” He turned to look at us and pointed the gun straight at my face as if to remind me of my fate. More of an Evil Ernie than a Helpful Harry. Then he climbed up two more stairs. “Just fifteen minutes, Ma. They don’t live very far.”

  Okay, we might have a shot. His back was turned and the gun was hanging loosely at this side. I glanced around the room. Baxter was still distracted in the next room with his boxes; Tall Dude was on the computer playing around with Super Power X. I wondered how exactly to grab this tiny chance to escape our date with death.

  But my friends were faster. Marge leapt in front of Spike who turned around to find a gun pointed in his face. Celeste sprinted across the room and locked Baxter into the room with the load of boxes. One less thug to deal with.

  Then it got even better. Because – how exactly had this happened? – Celeste had Tall Dude’s gun and held him at gunpoint! She must have grabbed it from the couch while he was killing goblins. How stupid could a guy get? How did these guys dress themselves, let alone make a ton of money from a counterfeiting scheme?

  “Who’s the stupid broad now?” Marge asked, her voice composed, her eyes full of concentration.

  There it was! We had our ninja back.

  Spike dropped his jaw and stared at Marge. “Don’t kill me, lady! Please. I don’t want to die.”

  Marge moved a little closer. “Don’t you move a muscle, or I’ll blow your dimwit brains out – what little brains you have.” She looked down at his feet. “I’ll blow them to pieces all over your fancy shoes. Hmm. Are those real or fake? Drop the gun. Right now!”

  He did exactly as she asked, and held his hands up in the air.

  Seconds later, some sort of ruckus seemed to break out in the upstairs of the house. Slamming doors and running footsteps and a sea of angry voices startled our little group. And just when things were getting good.

  What was up with that? Were more thugs on the way? We had to leave – and fast.

  Spike’s mother let out a frightened scream.

  “Who are you?” she yelled. “No! Don’t shoot! You must have the wrong house. Not my little Spikey and his little friends!”

  Then the door from the outside burst open, spilling a tangle of uniformed police, who rushed at us with guns drawn. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’d live. I’d really get to live!

  Silently and quickly, Marge slipped her gun into her bag.

  At the same time, more officers rushed down from the upstairs, followed by Spike’s startled mother. She watched the action with one hand over her heart and one hand caught up in her blonde-gray hair. “Oh Spikey, what is this?”

  An officer grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and then reached for his handcuffs.

  “Hold up,” a deep voice said that I knew very well. It was a voice I should have known that I’d hear at that very instant, a voice that was present for all the most troubling moments of my life. Alex shot me a weary look.

  “The girls are on our side,” he said to the officers. “Don’t mess with them.”

  He stared at me for the longest time with a strange look in his eye. Was it relief? Or worry? For just a crazy moment, it seemed like he might reach out to grab me in a hug. But when he put his arms around my waist, it was to free me from the ropes.

  “We meet once more, Charlie Cooper,” he said. “Why am I not surprised?”

  I looked in his eyes and man, was I glad to see him.

  “We tried to be more careful,” I finally said.

  He looked at the ropes, which he still held in his hands. “I’m glad that you’re safe now, but it doesn’t exactly look like you had the upper hand. Exactly who was holding who?”

  Amid the commotion, Celeste had appeared beside me. “Me and Marge had guns aimed at the criminals that you’ve just arrested. Charlie distracted the main guy while we did our work.” As if to prove her point, she still held Tall Guy’s gun tightly by her side. Not for long though, as a police officer took the gun from her.

  “And we’ve got another suspect locked up behind that door.” I pointed my eyes toward the room where Celeste had Baxter trapped. I couldn’t help but let a little pride creep
into my voice. “And we got confessions too.”

  Then Marge joined our little party. “Alex. Well, hello. So glad you guys could make it for the grand finale. If you’d come a little earlier, we could have put you to good use. But you have to admit it now: we do some fine work.”

  Alex rubbed his temples and let out a sigh.

  “Radio the chief,” Alex called out to an officer who stood beside the door. “Tell him we caught all three.”

  “We?” I raised an eyebrow. “Did you just say we?”

  Alex looked down at the floor. “Yes. We.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at him.

  He gave me just the smallest grin and I felt my legs getting shaky. The guy was looking fine, even when he was reluctant to give credit where credit was due after three new detectives had just bagged a death-defying victory.

  “I was worried about you, Cooper,” he said. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like this.

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

  “And you owe me an aspirin. You gave the bad guys fits all right.” He massaged his forehead. “But you gave this good guy a whopper of a headache.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I woke up the next day to total silence, which never, ever happened. That’s when I remembered: Oh, yeah! I was at my new apartment.

  I settled back into the softness of the covers, burrowing into the pillows for a luxurious, quiet snooze. No rock-and-rolling oldsters, no loud guffaws from my father as he drank his coffee in the kitchen, no noises from my brother’s room. Brad sometimes (the times when he had a job) failed to turn off his alarm, which made weird monster sounds.

  Something else was different too. Every single bone in my body ached and ached. I did not feel well at all. But what a dream I’d just been having. Alex was the star. I nestled into my pillow and tried to will my way back into the dream. I was still in that sleepy place where the dream world seemed so real. I felt like I could close my eyes and slip back into the story. At least I wanted to.

  In the dream, I’d been with Alex on the beach. We were dancing at the spot where the waves barely touch your feet. Things had started to get steamy when something woke me up. Life, give me a break. If my love life has to suck in real life, don’t jolt me wide awake just when some gorgeous hottie is about to make a move.