by Nic Saint
“I know,” said Brutus. “I know.”
And then they were on the move, rounding Town Hall and moving purposefully along the back in the direction of the service entrance where kitchen supplies were usually delivered when important get-togethers were organized, like today.
A waiter was smoking outside, and people were moving to and from parked vans, carrying what looked like large trays of finger food inside, and crates filled with bottles of wine and carton boxes of orange juice for the reception. Brutus and Harriet quickly snuck in and then they were in the kitchen, which was a regular beehive of activity.
“I don’t like this,” said Brutus as he sidestepped a waiter who seemed to want to step on his tail, and another who almost knocked him sideways.
“Let’s just keep going. We just need to find a safe place along the wall.”
“You lead the way,” said Brutus. “You’ve been here before.”
And so she had. On more than one occasion, actually, though never when so many people were out and about at the same time.
She led the way through the kitchen doors, then out into a wide corridor, where a nice burgundy runner had been placed on the hardwood floor, and past a large glass display case containing a few choice medals and mementos reminding the citizenry that before Charlene Butterwick had become mayor other people had filled the same position, and with distinction, too. Their portraits all decorated the walls, and a nice rogue’s gallery it was, too. Soon the hubbub of sound became louder, and as they streaked into the main reception hall, they could see it was already filling up nicely.
Immediately Harriet ducked underneath a chair and Brutus followed suit, and they hunkered down, keeping their digits crossed that no one would kick them out.
“Now let’s see if we can’t collect some neat little tidbits of information for our human,” said Harriet, well pleased that they’d gotten so far and without incident.
“Are you going to tell Marge?” asked Tex as they walked out of the restaurant.
“What is there to tell?” said Vesta.
Tex almost felt teary-eyed at this. “Thanks,” he said. “I don’t know what happened just now, but… thanks.”
“What happened is that you were led by a part of your anatomy most men allow to dominate their good sense,” said Scarlett. “And I should know, as I’ve played on that particular part myself plenty of times in the past.” She clapped Tex on the back. “You’re a good man, Tex, and sometimes people try to take advantage of good men like you.”
“I really thought it was a good idea,” he said sheepishly.
And as they walked on, Scarlett thought that if she’d received a dollar every time someone had said that to her, she would have a nicely filled savings account by now.
“Are you going back to the office?” asked Tex.
“No, I thought I’d see what the big fuss is about in Town Hall,” said Vesta.
“I guess I’ll tag along,” said Tex. “I’m curious to know what that Lord fella looks like.”
“Me, too,” said Scarlett with a smile.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Vesta.
“What did I say?”
“It’s not what you’re saying. It’s what you’re thinking.”
“How could you possibly know what I’m thinking. Are you psychic now?”
“You’re thinking that maybe Lord Hilbourne is as susceptible to your feminine wiles as Tex here is.”
“I’m not susceptible to Scarlett’s wiles,” said Tex. Then he caught sight of Scarlett’s wiggling décolletage and rolled his eyes. “Okay, so maybe I am a little.”
“For your information, I’m not going to try and seduce Lord Hilbourne,” said Scarlett. “Besides, the man is already spoken for, judging from the scene we witnessed in his suite.”
“You were in Lord Hilbourne’s suite?” asked Tex.
“Yeah, your daughter had an interview with the guy, and we chaperoned her.”
“Oh, so that’s what we were doing,” said Scarlett with a grin.
“Of course. You don’t think I was going to allow Odelia to go up to the hotel room of a guy who likes to invite loose women into his suite, do you? And all by herself, too.”
“Loose women?” asked Tex, then waved a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
And as they passed the Star hotel for the second time that day, Scarlett happened to glance up at the building’s frontage, and thought for a moment that she saw a familiar face appear in one of the windows. But when she shielded her eyes from the sun to have a better look, the face had disappeared.
It had looked a lot like the face of… Johnny Carew.
“Will you get away from that window!” Jerry yelled.
“I’m just looking, Jer,” said Johnny. “I can look, can’t I?”
“No, you can’t. What if people see you? They’ll start sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”
“Nobody will recognize me, Jer,” said Johnny as he did as he was told and moved away from the window. “Though I did just see Tex Poole.”
“Tex Poole!” Jerry cried. “Did he see you?”
“Pretty sure he didn’t. Too busy chatting with his mother-in-law.”
“Oh, for crying out loud! You saw Vesta Muffin, too?!”
“Yeah, but like I said she was too busy chatting with her son-in-law to bother looking up. That friend of hers saw me, though. Hot babe? She’s always hanging around Vesta.”
“Scarlett Canyon,” Jerry growled, who by now knew pretty much everybody in the small town they’d adopted as their own.
“I don’t think she knows me, though,” said Johnny. “At least we’ve never been formally introduced.” He grinned. “Though I wouldn’t mind if we were. She’s very pretty.”
“She’s also old enough to be your mother.”
“She is? She looks real good for her age.”
“Will you get your mind out of the gutter and focus?”
“Yes, Jer,” said Johnny dutifully.
Jerry was considering a slight alteration to the plan. Though he firmly believed the best plans of campaign were the ones meticulously prepared ahead of time, and changing things up at the last minute was asking for trouble. And since trouble kept following them around wherever they went, this didn’t seem advisable. No, better stick to the plan.
“Maybe we can go to this reception thingy?” Johnny asked.
“And get Hampton Cove’s local PD breathing down our necks again? No, thank you very much, Johnny. I’ve seen the inside of their holding cell more than enough.”
He picked up the magazine he’d been reading and turned the page. It was one of those nature magazines, and the article described the mating ritual of the African red-eyed bulbul. He’d picked it up downstairs in the lobby, and he had to say it soothed him.
“You know, Jer,” said Johnny, “I was thinking we should consider a change of career.”
“Uh-huh,” Jerry said, as he read his article.
‘The call of the African red-eyed bulbul is a cheerful tillop, peep, peep, tiddlypop.’
“So I’ve got the perfect job lined up for us.”
“Is that so?” he murmured, only half listening to his partner in crime.
‘The red-eyed bulbul is a gregarious bird, often forming mixed flocks with other species.’
“Cops, Jer!” said Johnny.
He looked up from his magazine. “What?”
“Cops! We should be cops!”
“No, we shouldn’t.”
“I mean it, Jer. Who knows more about crime than we do? I’ll bet the cops would pay good money for our expertise.”
“I don’t think so, Johnny.”
“It’s like that show about that guy who likes to wear white collars. And then he starts working for the cops and he catches all those other guys with white collars. I think the show was called—”
“White Collar. Yeah, I remember. I don’t think the cops are interested in our expertise, Johnny,” he said. He h
ated to disappoint his friend, but sometimes it was necessary to put the big oaf’s oversized feet on the ground again, as his brain tended to float off into space.
“Look, when this job is over, why don’t you and I go and have a chat with Chief Alec? Make him an offer he can’t refuse?”
“I don’t think so,” said Jerry, as he picked up his magazine again, this time turning to an article on the mating ritual of the great hornbill.
“I think you’d make a great cop, Jer. Just look at this.” And he held out his phone. It displayed one of those photo apps where a filter can be applied to your snaps. Johnny had taken Jerry’s picture and applied a filter that showed him in a police uniform, complete with police cap and everything.
In spite of his misgivings, Jerry had to laugh. “Will you look at that! That’s not half bad!”
“See?” said Johnny, grinning from ear to ear. “And I’ve got one of the two of us together.” And he showed Jerry a picture of the both of them dressed as cops. “Starsky and Hutch!”
Jerry’s grin widened. “More like Laverne and Shirley.”
“So who’s Laverne and who’s Shirley?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“What are we waiting for, Jer?!”
“I’m waiting for you to stop talking crap,” he said, his mood making that swift change it often did. “We’ll never be cops, you and me. Not after the stuff we did.”
“But, Jer!”
“Pretty sure you gotta have a clean record to be a cop, Johnny.”
“Records can be expunged.”
Jer threw down his magazine. “I’m going to the can. You keep an eye out, will you? And stop messing around with those damn filters,” he growled and snatched Johnny’s phone from his hands and dumped it on the bed where it bounced a couple of times.
Johnny was a great guy, but sometimes he got carried away.
Becoming a cop. What a joke!
Chapter 20
Marge had arrived in Town Hall for the big reception and was surprised to see her husband walk in, accompanied by her mom and Scarlett. Marge had snagged herself a seat near the front of the large reception hall, right in front of the podium, and beckoned to Tex and her mom and her friend. They soon joined her and she asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I, um, put a sign on the door,” said her husband, but refused to meet her eye as he said this.
“A sign on the door? And what about your patients?”
“Oh, they’ll just have to wait with being sick,” he said airily, going all shifty-eyed on her now. Clearly something was up. You can’t be married to a man for twenty-five years and not notice when that man is lying to you.
“What’s going on, Tex?” she asked. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Acting like what?” he asked, trying to look all innocent but succeeding in making things even worse. He was sweating and his face was flushed and his head looked like it was about to burst into flame.
“You’re not cheating on me, are you?” she asked, taking a wild stab in the dark.
“Cheating on you!” he said, and laughed what was presumably supposed to be a careless laugh but sounded like the croak of an old rooster—a cheating rooster!
“Come on, Tex. Spill,” she demanded, turning to him and fixing him with a stern look. “I know you’re hiding something. I can tell.”
“Hiding something!” he said, still proceeding with that careless look on his face that made him look so silly. “I’m not hiding—”
“Better tell her, Tex,” Marge’s mom advised.
Tex gulped.
“Tell me what? What’s going on!” she cried, starting to feel a little hot under her collar herself now. “If you don’t tell me right this minute I’ll scream, you got that?”
“All right, all right!” said Tex, holding up his hands in an appeasing gesture that only served to get her more worked up. “Look, it’s such a silly thing. So silly in fact that it makes me laugh. Ha ha ha.”
“Tex!” she said warningly.
“Okay, so Emma Bezel came by this morning.”
“Who’s Emma Bezel?”
“Evelina Pytel’s sister.”
“The woman whose boyfriend was found on that potato truck?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I watch the news, Tex. So why did Emma Bezel come to see you?”
“Well, she suggested that I… take her sister out on a date.”
She stared at her husband. “You’ve been cheating on me with Emma Bezel?”
“Not Emma, Evelina,” he said helpfully.
“What?!”
“It’s not what it sounds like!” Tex hastened to say.
But just then, Charlene Butterwick walked onto the stage and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Hampton Covians, council members, it is my distinct pleasure to see so many of you gathered here today for this singular occasion.”
“You’re cheating on me with Evelina Pytel?!” Marge hissed. “The woman just lost her boyfriend and already you’re canoodling with her behind my back?!”
“No, it’s not like that!”
“Today we have a very special guest,” Charlene said. “And it’s none other than Lord Wilfred Hilbourne!”
“Honey!” Tex pleaded when Marge turned a stoic face away from her husband. “It’s not what you think!”
The room erupted in loud applause, and Lord Hilbourne, or at least Marge assumed that it was him, came walking up the stage and joined Mayor Butterwick.
“I can explain!” Tex tooted in her ear.
“Please don’t talk to me, Tex,” she said coldly.
“But—”
“Evelina Pytel!” she cried, and Evelina must have somehow heard her, for just at that moment she came hurrying up the aisle and took a seat right next to Marge.
“Did I miss anything?” the woman asked.
Marge slowly turned to her husband and said, “Do you want to switch seats?”
“Oh, God,” Tex muttered.
“I told you to come clean straight away,” said Marge’s mom.
“You told me not to tell her!” said Tex.
Marge leaned over. “You told my husband not to tell me he was having an affair?”
“No!” said Ma. “That’s not what happened!”
“Oh, Ma,” said Marge, shaking her head.
“I can explain!” Ma cried.
“Please be quiet,” said Marge, and turned a deaf ear to both her husband and her mother and focused on the happenings as they proceeded on stage.
“It’s a great honor for me to be standing here in front of you today,” said Lord Hilbourne, who was very young, Marge thought. Extremely young to be a lord. Then again, what did she know about English lords? They probably could be young or old or whatever. He was also very handsome, in spite of his weird sideburns. He had one of those floppy hairdos Hugh Grant used to have at the beginning of his career, before he chopped off his nice hair and opted for a regular haircut.
“Hampton Cove has been my favorite vacationing place for ages,” Lord Hilbourne was saying as he held up the key he’d just received, as well as a nice shiny watch. “Of course it’s much more than a place to go on holiday. As you all know my mom was born here, so it’s like a second home to me. And it was with distinct pleasure that I learned that the town council and its wonderful mayor decided to do me this singular honor and bestow the keys to the city on me. And if it means I can come and go as I please from now on I’m sure I’m tickled pink, for that’s exactly what I had in mind!”
And what Marge had in mind was to give her husband a piece of her mind the moment this baby Lord stopped gibbering.
Chapter 21
We’d arrived just in time—or just too late—for the big to-do at Town Hall. Odelia had snuck in quietly while the Mayor was giving her speech, and Dooley and I had followed suit. Glancing to my left, I suddenly saw, hiding under a chair… Harriet and Brutus!
“Look who�
��s here,” I told Dooley, and directed his attention to our two friends.
“Oh, let’s go over and say hi!” said Dooley, always the most sociable cat anywhere.
So we trotted over, hiding under the chairs and making sure no one kicked us, and soon came upon the prissy Persian and her butch male mate.
“Hey, you guys,” I said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“And why not, may I ask?” said Harriet, clearly unhappy to be there.
“I thought you didn’t like crowded places?”
“I don’t, but I thought it was our duty to show up and provide Odelia with those important little nuggets of reporter gold that spruce up her daily columns.”
“We were thinking exactly the same thing, weren’t we, Dooley?”
“Oh, sure,” said Dooley. “Listen, we talked to Mr. Ed again, and he says he’s absolutely convinced that Bob Rector was a very bad guy, and that he set up his own abduction so he could swindle Evelina Pytel out of that ransom money. So you see, Brutus? A snail can be a good and loyal pet. Mr. Ed is being a very good and very loyal pet to Evelina, and will probably save her seventy-five thousand dollars—if Odelia ever succeeds in getting that money back from Bob Rector’s partner in crime, whoever he or she is.”
“Well, for your information,” said Brutus, “your friend Mr. Ed snuck into both of our homes while you guys were out and ate all of your food. So not so nice after all, is he?”
“Brutus!” said Harriet, clearly surprised by this denouement.
“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” said Brutus.
“Mr. Ed ate all of our food?” asked Dooley, looking flabbergasted.
“Yes, he did. Must have happened soon after you left,” said Brutus.
“I don’t believe this,” I said. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Brutus, sounding and looking a little too pleased with himself for my taste. “We found trails of slime all over the place, didn’t we, snuggle pooh? Of course we cleaned them all off. Took us a long time, too. Difficult to get off, slime.”