by Lorri Horn
“Please help yourself to the cookies you see along the way,” Dewey said, aware that they’d not even been offered a single plate of cookies in Clara’s absence. Where’d she go? The Gator lifted them up, and they made their way out. Dewey cringed as he heard something that sounded disturbingly like someone’s head meeting solid material.
He let out a big sigh and read over some of the extra notes he’d taken in the margin of their form. “Kicking,” “hitting,” “name-calling,” “ratting out.” Dewey thought about how much easier this stakeout would be—access to a house where the parents already knew he was coming!
As if reading his mind and materializing out of nowhere, Clara spoke. “We’ve never had such easy access to the clients, eh boss?”
“Clara! Where have you been! Why’d you leave me hanging?”
She just stood, all of four feet and nine inches, shrugging. “You tell me, sir.”
“I honestly don’t know. Cookie mishap?”
“Oh, no, sir. They’re in great shape. At least I think so.” She offered him the plate with the toffee almond sandies. “But I’d be about as useful as a milk bucket under a bull right about then.”
Dewey laughed. “Oh, you mean because bulls don’t make much milk,” Dewey reasoned slowly.
“Because they don’t make any, and because those two had enough to work through without trying to figure out how I fit into the mix.”
“Ha! Mix! Get it! Mix! Cookies.”
Clara smiled but feigned insult, furrowing her brows. “Always from scratch, sir.”
“Right, of course. I meant it like to stir, not in the Betty Crocker way.”
“Ah. That is a mix up.”
Dewey chuckled and smiled.
“Seriously, Clara, I was as nervous as, as . . .” Dewey paused to try and come up with a good Clara-like expression.
“As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs?” she asked.
“Yes!” he nodded wholeheartedly. “Yes! That’s right.” She laughed warmly and put her hands on his shoulders. These days she had to reach up to do just that.
“You did it, though! Your tail is fully intact. Shall we see what comes next?”
Yellow Tail
The only thing better than some kid bringing you snacks on a stakeout is some kid’s parent bringing them to you. Dewey sat on a long bench with a blue cushion in the mudroom, which provided him ample space to hide out next to the kitchen and to stretch way out. The long narrow bench ran the length of the wall with large square pillows along the way for Dewey to rest his back against. Underneath the bench were cubbies with wicker baskets for shoes, scarves, hats, and a bunch of other stuff. Some cubbies had no baskets and just shoes lined up. Above Dewey’s head jackets and coats hung on two big hooks. On the other wall across from him sat two large front-loading silver machines, the washer with the door slightly open, Mrs. Disk explained, to avoid mildew. There was a large country sink and a broom closet. A long blue and white rug ran the length of the room. A door led out to the back yard while another one led to the kitchen.
“I think this will be a perfect spot for you, Dewey, if you don’t mind sharing the space with Pumpkin.” Pumpkin was the Disks’ orange and white tabby. His cat box also resided in what otherwise, Dewey rapidly began to think, would make a perfect home away from home for himself.
“There’s a comforter in this basket, some guest slippers if your feet get cold. Here’s a little snack for you. I hope you like sushi?”
Sushi?! Yes, indeed. Dewey thought this case might take a while to sort out. He might even need to observe extra hours.
“Thanks, Mrs. Disk!”
“Sure, Dewey. We’re just so grateful. And really, please. Call me Julie.”
“Thank you, Julie.” Dewey eyed Pumpkin who jumped up on the bench having gotten a whiff of his yellowtail.
Mrs. Disk nudged Pumpkin down. “Okay, then. The kids should be home any minute now for lunch. They never come in the back unless it’s raining, so we’ll be fine. And no one is volunteering to change the cat box, you can be sure. You should be well situated here. Oh, and here’s the WC if you need it,” she smiled opening a door to a little half bath right off the laundry room.
Wow, thought Dewey. I really could move in.
Dewey propped up a couple pillows behind his back and ate his sushi. He tore open the little packet of soy sauce and used the lid as a bowl to mix in some wasabi. He sat up on the bench and took a selfie with a piece of California roll hanging out of his mouth. “#onthejob,” he messaged Colin.
He opened the can of bubbly water she’d given him and washed it all down just as he heard the family coming in the front door. He could smell what he concluded to be hotdogs sizzling in butter from the kitchen. What Dewey witnessed next seemed to him a rather uneventful lunch. Mrs. Disk needed to drop the kids and run out for something, and Mr. Disk fed the kids hot dogs, carrot sticks, salad, and milk. He asked about the game. They answered. It all seemed rather humdrum to Dewey. He sat on the bench petting the cat wondering what the fuss was all about.
“Clear your places before you leave the room, please,” Mr. Disk reminded. Then all was quiet. Dewey and Pumpkin had no choice but to settle into a little cat nap.
Dewey was just settling into this part of the job with Pumpkin on his chest when he suddenly heard the yells.
“Get out! Get ouuttt!! Louise! Mom!”
“Ow! Efren! Stop it!”
Pumpkin sprung off his chest, and Dewey covered his face for protection.
He stuck his head out of the door, looked both ways, and headed around the corner to get a better look.
Louise had one shoe stuck in Efren’s door and Efren was on the other side of the door doing his almighty best to close it. The fact that her foot had gotten in the way was only making him more upset. His goal was to shut her out. Her goal, originally to get into his room to be with her older brother, now came down to the more fundamental drive to get her foot back.
Mr. Disk pounded on the door. “Efren. Open this door! Louise’s foot is trapped!”
“Serves her right!” he yelled from the other side of the door.
“Mom!” wailed Louise, more from the injustice than actual pain as thankfully the tennis shoe’s rubber helped cushion the ever-tightening compression between her foot and the door.
“Mom’s not home. Efren!” Mr. Disk hollered again, pushing his weight against the door. Efren had pushed a chair under the door knob, so the door popped open but then closed again on Louise’s shoe and that caused some discomfort. Louise began to scream now.
“Aaaahhh!”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Mr. Disk said, untying Louise’s shoe and pulling her foot out as the door slammed shut. Mr. Disk took his daughter to the couch, inspected her foot, and assured her it was more pain of rejection than injury that was afoot.
Now that she’d stopped screaming for a minute, Dewey took in Louise’s shoulder-length wavy brown hair, worn in a ponytail that didn’t hide her hate for brushing out knots. When she wasn’t bursting out in tears, she had a smile that made her cheeks get round like pink taffies. Right now, Dewey thought her cheeks looked more like warm pink puddles. She had on a t-shirt today that said, ‘This is one for the books!’
“Why did you go in there? You know he doesn’t like that.”
“I just wanted to ask him something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Louise.” Mr. Disk’s reproach caused Louise to burst out in tears.
“Why does he hate me so much?! I hate him!” She ran into her room.
Mr. Disk then knocked and entered his son’s room. “Efren Charles,” he began.
“Dad!” he objected. “I don’t want her in my room!” At seven-eighths of an inch, Efren’s hair was a number seven cut. If he’d had his way it would have been a number four. He loved all things military and police, and wanted his dirty blond hair t
o be in a buzz. His mother had other ideas for him, saying things like, “But you have such nice hair,” and that she didn’t really care for how it made his ears “glow” when he stood in the light.
“I am aware,” Mr. Disk sighed. “But you sure have a funny way of showing it by trapping her in your doorway. You’re almost twice her height, Efren.”
“But she—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Your mother and I will decide how to handle this when she gets home. For now, she will stay out of your room and you will leave your door open.”
“What?! NO!”
“Don’t test me, this is my door. I’ll take it off the hinges and you won’t even have one. Your mother will be home and you are going to the dentist in an hour.” He stormed out, embarrassed all of this had just happened before Dewey’s observing eyes. Still, he felt hopeful Dewey might be able to help. Somehow.
Shotgun
It had been a while since Dewey had taken an undercover car ride. He got plenty of notice though, and they set him up in the back row of their Explorer under a tarp. They were set to leave at 2:20 for a 3:00 appointment, so Dewey settled himself by 2:15.
“Shotgun. I call shotgun!” Louise dashed toward the car like she was in a relay race.
“No, I call it!” Efren’s long legs hightailed it after her.
“No, I said it first.”
“I called it!”
“You didn’t call it.”
“It doesn’t matter if you called it. I need more room, Louise!”
“That’s not fair. MO-OM! I called it.”
Dewey thought their scuffle might have dented the car. Sure sounded like it.
“Efren, she called it. I heard her. Get in the back, please. You can ride up front on the way home.”
“She’s not even old enough to ride up front!” he objected.
“Am, too! I weigh enough now!”
“This is bull—”
“Efren . . .” his mother turned around and faced him raising a pointer finger in warning.
“—-Loney. Bul-loney,” he grumbled and kicked the back of Louise’s seat hard.
“MOM!”
“Shall we just try to arrive to Dr. McCandlish’s office in one piece?” their mother asked, pulling out of the driveway.
Dewey observed through the crack in the seat as Louise slowly and incrementally moved her seat back inch by inch, crowding Efren more and more. With each scoot back, he rewarded her with his knee pushing and jamming into the back of her seat. This went on in silence as Mrs. Disk drove for maybe all of forty-five seconds. Finally, when Louise had moved her seat back as much as humanly possible, Efren madly reached over her seat with both hands. Whether it was to grab her neck in a choke hold, or haul her whole body over the seat into the back Dewey couldn’t tell, but the car came to an abrupt halt that lurched him forward and locked his seatbelt.
“Out. Everybody out!”
“Out?”
They were pulled over in a parking lot nowhere near the dentist’s office.
Louise didn’t move. Efren began to loosen his seatbelt.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“But you said—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one is going anywhere. I’m not moving this car until this incessant fighting stops. You two want your teeth to rot and fall out of your heads? That’s just fine with me. We can just sit here and never go to the dentist, ever. We can live here for all I care.”
Like her son’s bedroom door, she was threatening to come unhinged.
Louise moved her seat up.
“That’s better.”
The rest of the car ride remained silent until Mrs. Disk let out a long sigh and turned on some music.
“Can I pick the station?” Louise asked, turning past numbers.
“Oh! There, there! Stop there!” Efren said.
Louise kept moving higher up the numbers past the song Efren liked.
“Louise! Go back!” he yelled, leaning up trying to reach the dial with his long arms.
“I’m picking!” she objected. “Mom!”
He flicked her on the back of the head.
“Ow!”
Just then, Dewey’s phone vibrated. ‘SOS’ from Clara. This couldn’t be good.
SOS
“No. No, no, no, no, no. You guys can’t be here!” Dewey paced back and forth in his office. “I already told you that.”
Dewey had really hoped Stephanie and Pooh’s discovery of his office would somehow just go away. But here they were again in his office. Pooh seemed to have already polished off a plate of cookies and milk, and sat on the floor coloring a picture.
“Hi, Dewey! I’m drawing Wolfie!”
Dewey gasped and sighed with distress, then looked at Clara who just shrugged.
“Stephanie, what do you want?”
“Tell me what you’re doing up here? What’s all this?”
This situation wasn’t going away. He was right in the middle of a case, and the situation just wasn’t going away.
He sat down at his desk and sighed again. “What do you want to know?”
“Why are you two up here?”
Dewey felt prickly.
“Working,” replied Dewey coolly.
“On what?”
“Do you like his tail? I made it like a fan!”
“It’s nice, Pooh,” Dewey said.
“Very nice,” Clara smiled. “I never thought about it, but it’s true. His tail does look like a white feathery fan.”
“I’m making it orange.”
“So??” Stephanie asked looking around.
“So, what?” Dewey growled.
Clara came up behind Dewey. She rested her hands on his shoulder.
Argh! Why is this happening?! Dewey looked at his phone to see the time. By now the Disks would have left the dentist. He texted Mrs. Disk. He had ducked out of there as soon as he’d had a chance.
got lots of data
will be back in touch soon
He couldn’t even think straight right now. He had no idea how he was going to solve the Disk sibling issue. He didn’t have the space to think about it right now.
“Dewey?”
“What?”
“What do you guys do up here?”
He tried to quiet the buzzing in his head.
“We solve problems.”
“Like what kinds of problems?”
“All kinds, I guess.”
“Can I help?” Pooh asked.
“So, you’re just up here solving problems? Really?”
“Really.”
“Like what, for example?”
“I don’t know. I’m working on some kids who all they do is fight. A while ago, I helped these kids when their teacher was boring them to death.” Annoyed. Dewey felt annoyed.
“That’s kind of cool.”
Dewey felt a little less annoyed. Approval from Stephanie? He almost wanted to tell her more.
“Can you guys go now?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t wanna go,” Pooh said.
“Come on, Pooh. We gotta go.”
Dewey felt a warm grateful relief swell behind his eyes and he softened.
“Thank you,” he said.
“No problem.”
“We’re coming back, though, right?” he could hear Pooh Bear asking as she made her way through the ducts. “Right? Right?”
“OMG! How am I supposed to get anything done this way?!”
“I do hope it was okay to call you, sir. I wasn’t quite sure how you wanted to handle the sister situation.”
“Well, if you don’t know, I sure don’t,” Dewey threw his hands up in the air and let them drop hard. “I’ve got my hands full with Efren and Louise and their parents are counting on me coming up with something. Efren thought I’d be there for just him. Now I’m supposed to help them both. I gotta spend some time going th
rough all of my notes about them and figure something out.”
“I’m sure you’ll come up with something, sir.”
“Hmm. You always say that,” Dewey said.
“And you always do.”
“Do I?”
“Like a roll with butter.”
Wolfie Needs
a Diaper Change
Dewey spent the afternoon going back to reading online about sibling problems and possible solutions. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of blogs on the topic.
“Here’s one. She does a ‘job jar’ where she puts in chores and if her kids fight they have to pick out a chore and do it. This one is like the jar idea, but makes them pay money anytime her kids say something mean.
“‘Separate siblings until they miss one another.’ ‘Force them to be together until they love one another,’” Dewey continued reading. “That’s kind of like those sewn together twin shirts. Haha! This dad makes his two sons stand nose to nose, or toe to toe until they get nice. That just seems cruel, doesn’t it?”
“Try it yourself sometime with Stephanie or Pooh and let me know how it goes.”
“No thanks!”
Whole sections were devoted to who gets to sit in the front seat of the car! Turns out the middle seat in the back also posed family problems. Pooh’s car seat was there so he’d never actually thought about that, but he wouldn’t want to sit on that hump. Parents in the online forums said they had kids take turns every other day, every other week. But then the kids argued about whose day of week it was.
“That’s funny,” Dewey chuckled. “Nope. There’s no way out of this. Kids are just going to fight and tear one another apart.”
“If I may, sir. Why don’t we start with your own sibling problem?”
“I have a sibling problem?”
She smiled.
“Oh, you mean Pooh and Stephanie coming here? I don’t have time to deal with that. I have to focus on my real problems to solve.”
Clara smiled again.
She handed him a cookie.