Twanged

by Carol Higgins Clark

  It slowly started to make sense. That golf bag in the trunk had no clubs in it. Had Duke put the original fiddle in it and substituted this copy in the case Brigid was carrying? What about that older man who had pulled into the driveway and said, “It looks exactly the same”? What was he talking about? Out of the blue, Chappy had invited Brigid to stay at his home. And the initials CT stood for Chappy Tinka!

  “I’ve got an idea where it is,” Regan said grimly.

  Brigid, Malachy, and Pammy all looked at her.

  “Where?” Brigid asked.

  “With Chappy. I think Duke switched them when we were in the car.”

  “No!” Brigid cried. “We have to get it back! Regan, do you think you could get it from him?”

  “Brigid, I don’t want to leave you again.”

  Brigid started to cry. “I’ll never see it again. Malachy gave it to me and now it’s gone.”

  Malachy turned to Regan. “Do you think you could go and try to get it back? I’ll stay right here with Brigid, I promise.”

  “So will I,” Pammy declared.

  Regan hesitated. Brigid was so upset about losing the fiddle. The person who had been threatening her was now in police custody. Malachy and Pammy promised to stay right here with her.

  “I’ll go,” Regan said. “But I don’t want Brigid to set foot outside this room until I get back. I mean it.”

  “She won’t. I guarantee it,” Pammy said. “We’ll stay with her and lock the door.”

  Brigid smiled. “Thank you, Regan. Why don’t you take the police with you?”

  “No,” Regan said. “We have no proof that he did it. Besides, I want to catch him by surprise.” She turned to go.

  “Regan, please be careful!” Brigid called after her as she hurried out of the room.

  Feeling wildly uneasy, Regan ran the length of the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door to the end of the parking lot, where she knew the red station wagon was parked. She hopped in and reached for the keys under the seat. She knew the guys had left them there so Kit could drive it home later. She backed out of her space and was ready to throw the car into DRIVE when she heard someone calling her name. Up from the tennis courts came Earl, the security guard, with a man dressed in tennis whites. She rolled down the window.

  “This is the guy,” Earl said proudly. “The guy who was playing tennis last Sunday when the doll was left here. I recognized him.”

  “Oh yes,” Regan said quickly. “I don’t have much time and I think we have our man anyway, but I was wondering if you saw anything last Sunday when you were playing tennis. Did you notice any cars driving around?”

  He looked at her quizzically. “Yes, I did.”

  “What did you see?”

  “A car pulled up in the parking lot and stopped.”

  “What kind of car?”

  He laughed. “You’re sitting in it.”

  “What?” Regan said. “This kind of car?”

  “I believe it was this car. How many big old red station wagons do you see being driven around here? I remember because it’s so distinctive.”

  “Last Sunday?” Regan said almost to herself. It didn’t make sense.

  You’ve got quite a bump there,” Pammy said to Brigid. She turned to Malachy. “I noticed a soda machine downstairs. Do you think you could see if it has any ice, or even a cold can, to hold up against Brigid’s head?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Malachy said, anxious to help. He got up from his chair and hurried out the door.

  With a decisive motion, Pammy locked it behind him. She turned menacingly to Brigid, whose eyes were closed.

  Well, thank you,” Regan said. “I’ve got to run, but I might be calling you to discuss this later.”

  “Okay,” the tennis player replied. He and the security guard started to walk off.

  Regan was about to accelerate when she heard her name being yelled yet again. The passenger door opened, and a panting Louisa plopped down next to her.

  “Louisa, I can’t talk right now,” Regan said abruptly.

  “This might be important,” Louisa insisted. She thrust a letter in Regan’s hands.

  “What’s this?” Regan asked.

  “A fan letter for Brigid I printed off the Internet.”

  Quickly, Regan began to read.

  Dear Brigid O’Neill,

  I love your songs, and so I decided to look you up on the Web. I saw that picture of your band. Was that Pammy Wagner with you? She is a murderer!

  There was never any proof that she was guilty, but a little more than ten years ago something happened in our town, the town Pammy grew up in. Pammy’s cousin drowned. Everybody knew Pammy got her drunk on purpose and then decided to take her swimming in a lake by themselves late at night. Her cousin was not a drinker or a good swimmer, and she drowned. Why did Pammy do this? Because her cousin was going out with a boy Pammy liked.

  She’s a PSYCHO. Big time. Or what you call a bunny boiler. Remember that scene from Fatal Attraction? I really liked that movie.

  How come that guy in your band likes her?

  Yours truly,

  Your #1 Fan

  Inside Arnold Baker’s office, Pammy came around behind Brigid.

  “Let me give your neck a gentle massage,” she offered. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Okay,” Brigid agreed.

  “Do you know what just happened to me, Brigid?”

  “No.”

  “Kieran just broke up with me. He told me it’s over. He said that he was grateful for all the help I’d given him, but it wasn’t working for him anymore. That it hadn’t for a while.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Pammy,” Brigid said softly.

  “No, you’re not. You’ll be glad to get rid of me. I see the way you two look at each other.”

  “No . . .” Brigid began to protest.

  “Yes. Oh yes. But if I can’t have him, then you won’t, either,” she declared as she slipped a plastic bag over Brigid’s head.

  What do you think?” Louisa asked.

  “This is unbelievable,” Regan said, thinking out loud. “The tennis player said he saw this car driving around the day the package with the doll was dropped off. It was Sunday morning. The guys were golfing and Pammy was with them. She doesn’t golf. She said she read in the clubhouse. She must have taken the car while they were playing and dropped the doll off.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “In the President’s office with Brigid and Malachy. Louisa, hold on tight!”

  Regan floored the gas pedal and sped down to the entrance of the administration building. She threw the car into PARK and went racing out the door, Louisa at her heels. She yanked open the door of the building and ran into Malachy in the first-floor hallway. He was carrying a container of ice.

  “Brigid’s alone with Pammy!” Regan shrieked. Without waiting for a reply she raced up the stairs, two at a time. She reached the door of Arnold’s office, but it was locked. She twisted it frantically and banged on it. “Pammy, I have to get in!” she yelled.

  From inside the door she could hear Pammy shouting.

  “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOU SINGING THAT SONG ABOUT JAIL ANYMORE. I DON’T LIKE THE WAY YOU SING IT WITH KIERAN!”

  “Regan, look out,” Malachy said from behind her. She stepped aside as he threw his weight against the door. It went flying open, and Malachy fell to the floor.

  Brigid’s right hand was limp, her left hand fluttering in a feeble attempt to claw at the plastic bag Pammy was pressing against her face.

  Regan lunged across the room and threw herself at Pammy as Louisa’s nails dug into the bag and ripped it open. She pressed her mouth against Brigid’s and began to perform CPR.

  Regan wrestled Pammy to the floor and twisted her arms behind her.

  An instant later the room was filled with people as Louisa’s final “HNNNNNNN” down Brigid’s throat brought her back to life.

  Regan could see that Brigid would be all right.
“You take over,” she said to Malachy and the security guards who’d come running when they saw her speeding car. “There’s something I’ve got to do for her.”

  Chappy was in heaven. He recognized that the fiddle was not giving out the same sounds as when Brigid played it, but that did not deter him. Practice, practice, practice, he thought.

  Outside the door of Grandpa’s speakeasy, two listeners looked at each other and winced at the screech of the high notes.

  “ARF! ARF!” Tootsie came bounding down the basement steps.

  “I told you to lock that fleabag in the bedroom,” one of them said.

  Tootsie was upon them, her tail wagging joyously.

  Bettina turned to scoop her up but Tootsie wriggled away and bounded back across the basement floor. “I thought I had closed the door. Mama’s baby is so smart.”

  “Well, go lock her up. I don’t want her barking when we put this loser to sleep.”

  Bettina made a face. “She looks as though she wants to play tag. I can never catch her, so I’m always ‘It.’”

  If I run into a cop, I’ll get the escort I didn’t want, Regan thought as she sped to the Chappy Compound. She pulled onto the property and didn’t stop the car until she was in front of the castle. She jumped out and rang the bell. There was no answer.

  She tried the door. As expected, it was locked. She ran around to Peace Man’s trailer and knocked on the door. No answer. It was locked as well.

  She ran around the back of the house, onto the deck, and peered through the sliding glass doors.

  No signs of life.

  Chappy, much as he hated to, decided he had better call it quits. It was time to fetch Bettina and go to the concert. Reverently he laid the fiddle on the chair, opened the door to head upstairs, and was shocked by who was standing in front of him.

  “Peace Man! Bettina! What are you doing here?”

  “Peace Man invented some special vitamins we want to try out on you,” Bettina said.

  “But we have to go to the concert now,” Chappy replied nervously.

  “We’re not going to the concert,” Bettina answered him. Unnoticed, Tootsie slipped by her, ran through the speakeasy, and discovered the long tunnel on the other side.

  “You’ve heard your last song,” Bettina said.

  Peace Man raised a gun to Chappy’s head. “Get back inside there.”

  “Surely we can discuss this!?” Chappy cried.

  Regan stood quietly on the deck of Chappy’s house. The waves of the ocean were breaking behind her. What else had she heard? It sounded like a faint barking. Bettina’s dog? It was coming from the direction of the guest house.

  I may as well try it, she thought.

  As she drew closer, the barking grew louder, coming through the open windows of the main room. Regan, glad they hadn’t locked the door upon their departure, opened it and went inside the house where she’d stayed all week.

  Tootsie scampered over to her.

  “Hello, Tootsie,” Regan said. “Where is everybody?”

  Tootsie ran over to the couch. When Regan followed, she realized that the door with no handle was . . . open a crack! The couch was at a slight angle, as though someone had tried to push it out of the way with the door. Tootsie continued barking, trying to squeeze behind the couch to no avail.

  “Did you come in this way?” Regan asked. With effort she pulled out the couch enough to make room for herself and Tootsie, then followed the dog down the steps into the musty, dimly lit basement.

  Tootsie ran to the other end of the room, where a door stood open. Regan felt for her gun. Who knows what I’m going to find? she thought. Over at the door she was astonished to find that there wasn’t a room behind it, there was a tunnel!

  Tootsie raced ahead, her barking echoing through the tunnel. Cautiously Regan made her way through the damp, dark passageway. She saw a light at the end.

  Is this what it’s like when you die? she wondered. The old light at the end of the tunnel. But this light did not give her the warm, welcoming feeling you were supposed to experience. As she approached it, she slowed. What was it she heard?

  Bettina’s voice!

  “Take Peace Man’s pills!”

  “I don’t want to. You know I have terrible trouble swallowing pills. I’ll give you any amount of money that you want.”

  “I’m going to get it anyway. Your mother will really roll in her grave about that.” Bettina cackled. “She never liked me, did she?”

  “No, she didn’t. Now I can see why. Now I know why you’ve been studying the stock prices. Figuring out what to do with my money!”

  “Yeah, Garrett’s been teaching me all about investments. I told him I had a little nest egg that I wanted to see grow. Why do you think I rented out the servants’ quarters this summer? I didn’t want to see more money go down the drain with that theatre. I knew we were going to kill you this summer. What better time to stage your suicide than when you’ve got a stolen fiddle in your possession? Everyone will think you went bonkers, you’ll be completely disgraced, and the world will feel sorry for me!”

  “Peace Man!” Chappy said. “I’m shocked by you! Well, Duke said you were a good actor.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Peace Man said. “I took that class so I’d get invited to your party.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah,” Bettina said with a big smile. “We wanted to make it look as if I just met him at the Christmas party.”

  “Where did you meet him before?” Chappy asked.

  Bettina stretched out her arm. “Say hello to my second husband.”

  “WHAT? You’re Arthur? This is really galling, Bettina.”

  “Yeah. We were afraid somebody would find out. That’s why he pushed that nosy Louisa into the pool. It looked like she was going to be a relentless busybody. He went into his seven days of silence so she couldn’t interview him.”

  “I see he’s broken it now,” Chappy observed.

  “Just for you. Arthur and I loved each other but we were poor; we divorced so I could remarry you. He’s not really a guru, you know.”

  “Duh,” Chappy said flatly.

  “Duh, yourself. I told him I’d get back together with you only after I heard that that old bat of a mother of yours was out of the way. No amount of money would make me marry you again with her still around!”

  “Don’t talk about Mother like that!”

  “Well, you’ll be seeing her in a little while. Say hello for me. If you don’t take Arthur’s pills, which will put you to sleep for good, we’re going to have to shoot you. Take your pick.”

  They have a gun, Regan thought. She pulled hers out.

  “Give me the pills,” Chappy said. Maybe Duke will find me, he thought, before it’s too late. They can pump my stomach. Mother said I drank turpentine when I was a toddler, and the doctors were amazed at my resilience.

  “We even brought a whole bottle of water for you to wash them down,” Bettina said.

  Peace Man handed Chappy a fistful of pills. “Take them!” he ordered.

  I’ve got to move now, Regan thought. She burst into the room. “HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!” she demanded.

  Peace Man and Bettina both jumped. Chappy spit out a mouthful of pills. “Regan! How good to see you!” he practically sobbed.

  “Drop the gun, Peace Man!” Regan shouted.

  He looked at her with hate as he threw his weapon on the floor.

  “I want you and Bettina against the wall with your arms up. And I don’t mean for exercise.”

  The two of them slowly complied.

  Chappy burst into tears of relief.

  Tootsie, who’d disappeared through the door, came bouncing back.

  “That dog saved your life,” Regan observed.

  Chappy leaned down, and the dog jumped into his arms. Brigid’s fiddle was on the chair.

  “I see the stolen fiddle is here, too,” Regan said.

  “I had nothing to do with that!” Bettina insisted.
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  “Quiet!” Regan commanded.

  “I stole it,” Chappy admitted as Tootsie licked his tears. “I am terribly sorry. And I’ll tell you now: I had Duke steal the one over in the corner there from that guy’s house in Ireland. Now that I have my life back, I want to come clean!”

  Regan shook her head in disgust, which only made Chappy start crying again.

  “I’ll do anything for penance,” he cried. “Anything! But before you send me to jail, would you mind if Tootsie and I came to the concert with you?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Regan said. “Now go call the cops.”

  After the police came and handcuffed Bettina and Peace Man, Regan turned to Chappy. “Because you were almost murdered, I’ll let you come to the concert. I can’t say how Brigid’s going to feel or if she’s going to press charges. That’s up to her. Right now I just want to get this cursed—and I do mean cursed—fiddle back in her hands.”

  Chappy’s eyes flooded with tears. “You’re a wonderful woman, Regan Reilly.”

  “Yeah, I know. Now get in the car.”

  Accompanied by a police escort they raced back to the college.

  Brad and Chuck were onstage introducing Brigid and her band to the audience when the cars came roaring up.

  Luke and Nora, Louisa and Herbert, Ned and Claudia, and Kit’s group were all sitting in a special section in front. Even Darla and her husband had come down to join them after Darla’s performance as the opening act. It had gone great, and after seeing what Brigid had gone through, Darla had decided that being famous wasn’t worth it. Unless of course someone offered her a really good record deal. . .

  “Hey, partner,” Chuck said into the microphone. “It looks like we have more excitement.”

  Regan and Chappy ran over to the side of the stage. Malachy was standing in the wings.

  Regan tapped him on the back. “Malachy,” she whispered. “I’ve got something I’d like you to give Brigid.” She handed him the magic fiddle.

  Malachy winkled at her. “Ah, Regan,” he replied. “You’re grand.” He walked out and handed it to Brigid.

  Brigid jumped for joy when the fiddle was back in her arms. She embraced Malachy and then held up the fiddle for the crowd.