by Tracy Ellen
Neither of them ever saw this spitting nails, disciplinarian side of Jack. I’d seen it somewhat regularly over the years with my propensity to jump in where angels fear to tread. (His words, not mine.) Why he compares me to an angel quite regularly is beyond me. You’d think him dealing with the criminal element; Chief Jack would have gotten past the baby face and big, blue eyes years ago.
I pondered this anomaly as I gazed up at him with a rapt expression while he spewed fired and brimstone. I also pondered why as men aged they did not notice their eyebrows needed trimming. Every time Jack passed by the light, I saw several eyebrow hairs sticking straight out. Yes, they were white blonde, but they were a good inch long. How he could miss these when shaving or brushing his teeth was beyond me.
Jack finally calmed down from a frothing-mouthed dictator into lecturer mode, and I focused. I shifted my eyes for a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes was shorter than most of Jack’s tyrannical raves. I think the poor man was tired. With a final warning glare at my upturned face, Jack crabbily advised I may need to be questioned again depending on what legal action arose from Larissa’s ex-husband’s assault.
Jack had some concerns an attempt could be made by the ex to sue me for causing him a long term disability. After the taser affects wore off, Ron Hansen was heard screaming, “My balls, my back!” repeatedly.
Jack thought with Trent’s and Billy’s eye witness statements that type of case would not hold up for long. I was curious what he meant by this, but didn’t ask him to clarify. I was in no mood to ask Chief Jack any questions and get him wound up again.
He did let slip Ron Hansen was only released late this morning from Dakota County Jail after serving close to a year for third degree assault charges. It crossed my mind to wonder how Ron had arrived at Bel’s Books. It was logical to presume he’d need transportation to get from the jail in Hastings to Northfield, thirty two miles to the southwest. This detail spurred me to tell Jack about the van I’d observed in the parking lot when Anna and I returned from spying. I had automatically assumed the man in the van was waiting for a customer in Bel’s, but he could have been waiting for Ron to kidnap Larissa out of the store.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the plate number and could only tell Jack the make and model. Anna vaguely remembered seeing the van, but had nothing else to offer.
My description of the man driving was more detailed. He was pale white, and while sitting in a van made it harder to be sure, he looked very large and heavy. He appeared to be stuffed uncomfortably behind the wheel of the van. I’d place his age in his late thirties. He was wearing a light colored jacket, had a completely bald head, no facial hair, and a big schnoz.
Jack stepped into the foyer and called it in immediately for follow up. While he was on his phone, Stella overheard him verifying no first responding cops to the back store entrance had seen the van when they arrived in the parking lot at Bel’s.
We reasoned the driver was a fellow parolee, or friend of Ron Hansen’s. If this was true, the cops would easily track him down by the physical description. If he was an accomplice, I knew Jack would find him. We all agreed it was too suspicious the van was not seen by any of the first responding police.
Anna thought it would be a smart idea to find out more details from Larissa. Maybe her ex had mentioned where he was taking her and if he had help. Stella verified the man had been yelling his head off at Larissa, so it was distinctly possible he told her things that could be of use.
Jack overheard us and looking alarmed, issued a stern warning. “Do not start playing at amateur detectives or certain heads will roll.”
I promptly promised with Anna and Stella quickly following my lead and seconding their agreement.
Jack eyed the three of us for a long moment, and then surveyed me with his cop stare.
“Swear to God, Anabel.”
“What am I swearing to here, Chief?”
Jack thought it over. “Swear you will not play detective on your own. Swear if you find out any information by sheer chance, you will report it immediately to me.”
I took my time, no need for Jack to be suspicious if I agreed too fast again. “Deal. I swear to God. But that was two swears, so you owe me.”
Jack grunted. He eyed me carefully while searching for visual clues how he may have been hoodwinked. I smiled placidly back under his suspicious regard. Concluding he had covered his bases, he turned to Anna next.
“You!” He pointed a finger and demanded, “Swear to God!”
Anna immediately put a hand to heart and fervently swore.
Then she promptly smiled nervously and looked guilty as hell.
Jack scowled.
Anna kept swearing to God repeatedly and then kept smiling repeatedly.
Jack shook his head slightly to clear it. With a last warning glare at my anxiously grinning friend, he appeared satisfied Anna was sufficiently cowed. He moved on.
When his scowling face moved Stella’s way, she held up a hand and stopped him before he spoke.
Stella, the daughter of my heart, was shakily courteous but firm. “Sorry, Uncle Jack, but I don’t do swear to Gods.”
Jack’s mouth dropped at this statement. After a stunned moment, his brows lowered and he mocked her in a girly voice. “‘I don’t do swear to Gods, Uncle Jack’.” Face like a thundercloud, he shouted, “You’re an Axelrod, of course you do swear to Gods!”
Stella shrank back against the sofa and visibly swallowed, but held her ground in the face of his temper. “Umm…I am a DeVere, remember? I am the only kid in this entire family. I stopped doing swear to Gods before I was ten just on general principle.”
Jack looked at me, an accusatory glower on his face.
“What?” I crossed my arms and smiled evilly. “Surely you don’t blame me our Stella’s chock full of principles? Maybe you could trust her,” I glared back at Jack, “if you asked her nice.”
Jack threw his arms in the air with an oath. He settled them on his hips. He locked eyes with Stella. “Do you promise, Stella DeVere, to stay out of police business like a good girl?”
Stella lifted her chin at his tone. She replied coolly, “Sorry, Uncle Jack, I don’t do promises, either.”
Jack’s stoic, cop face was a contortion of frustration.
In his everyday existence, he was The Chief. In his world, if Jack even casually glanced at someone in his employ they quivered and asked, “How high today, Sir Chief?”
He dealt with high-powered, muckety-mucks on a regular basis. He carried big guns, he captured dangerous criminals, and he dealt with life or death situations as a norm. To not be able to control a couple of girls with his formidable force of will alone had to be unendurably tormenting.
Jack, probably longing for the simplicity of a rookie cop needing a new asshole ripped for some minor infraction, stabbed a finger at each of us and enunciated in an awful voice, “Stay. Out. Of. Trouble.”
The cursing Jack departed down the stairs, thankfully taking his cranky mood with him. I got down to business with Stella and Anna.
Stella said, “Larissa really wants to speak with you.”
I sighed; this was a load off my mind. “Good. Under the circumstances, I was worried Larissa would hate me for screaming and yelling abuse at her. She knows it was a distraction and not meant to be real?”
Stella rushed to reassure me. “Oh, she knows! It’s the opposite, Aunt Bel. Larissa worships you for saving her. She was terrified because Ron was trying to force her to come with him. He threatened to rain down all sorts of nasty shit on her head for divorcing him.” Stella was furious. “Can you believe in his fucked up mind the jerk blames Larissa for him being jailed for assault?”
I shook my head. “I see only two choices for a violently abusive man like him. Put him down, or a total lobotomy. Men like him are wired wrong; plain and simple.” I paused, stomach sinking thinking about it. “He’s always going to be a serious threat to Larissa’s life.”
; “You need to worry about him now, too, Junior.” Anna softly reminded.
My eyes got big at that distinctly unhappy realization.
I also wasn’t so happy hearing Stella and Anna change the topic and start singing Luke’s praises for taking charge downstairs while I was passed out. I had let my people down by collapsing. After I’d zonked out and was napping in the comfort of my apartment, Luke had smoothly stepped in and organized the chaos downstairs.
I heard how he encouraged Stella to close and lock the store to keep away the gawkers. At his advice, she recorded a brief statement on Bel’s Books voicemail greeting stating the shortened hours for today. It was essentially the same brief statement he coached her to give the woman reporter from the Northfield News.
Luke counseled the nervous Stella it was important we control the information being officially stated from the outset, and that I would want her to do so. He was absolutely correct. Stella was anxious for my approval she did everything kosher. I smiled brightly and thanked her profusely for her correct, quick actions.
I was grateful, but inside I was having a bitch of a time knowing I hadn’t been there doing my job as owner and fearless leader.
Anna couldn’t praise Luke’s handling of the three lady customers highly enough. “You wouldn’t believe how great he was with them. He encouraged them to tell him their part in what happened. He really listened, and then complimented them until they blushed.” She laughed. “My god, after talking with the cops those ladies marched right out of the store feeling like super heroes, and not victims in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Luke’s such a good guy, Junior.”
I nodded in agreement with her opinion, but for different reasons. He was a good guy. Good at manipulation. Knowing they were all women, even if over the age of retirement, I’m sure it took him only seconds to have them eating out of his hand. It was masterfully done. It neutralized the negative comments these same customers could justifiably spread about their “shopping experience” at Bel’s Books. I stewed broodingly over the fact I should be ecstatic for Luke’s strategic thinking, not simmering with aggravation they were needed on my behalf.
Anna went on blithely. “He also talked with Trent and Billy before they gave their statements. They both felt bad they hadn’t done more to try to save Larissa. Luke told them,” Anna lowered her voice in a creepily accurate parody of his low voice, “‘Boys, you did the smart thing. Had you men interfered, it could have resulted in Larissa being seriously hurt like the ex-husband had threatened’.”
Anna smiled at my expression while Stella was snorting on my other side. “When the guys sang your praises to Luke about witnessing the royal ass whipping, he just smiled and shook his head. You’re gonna love this, Junior, because he told them,” Her voice lowered dramatically again, “‘Remember, dynamite often comes in small packages and the same applies to a little woman’.’’
My friend and niece snickered together at my distinctly unloving look. Anna continued on. “According to Luke, it was his experienced opinion you were only successful because no man expects a ‘super hot, little boss lady, even if she was screaming like a lunatic, to stroll up and kick him in the balls!’”
Stella chimed in. “Yeah, Luke really got Trent and Billy laughing their butts off and no longer questioning their manhood. So, I guess that part was good, right?”
I sniffed. “Sure. I’d hate to have demasculinized employees running around loose and causing havoc in the store.”
Stella fell back giggling on the sofa while Anna laughingly said, “But wait! That’s not all!”
They both laughed harder when I said a very bad word.
“Trent and Billy totally agreed with Luke that the man was a serious threat to you.” Anna snickered and made a face. “Even while he was on the floor screaming in agony and even as you repeatedly kicked him. They definitely heard him yelling death threats if he got his hands on you. They definitely stood guard over you to make sure the ex couldn’t attack you from the floor.”
That sure cleared up Jack’s reference earlier about Trent’s and Billy’s statements to the cops verifying I had the right to protect myself from Ron Hansen. Based on his earlier comments, I could tell Jack had approved of Luke’s assistance in “clarifying their thoughts” before the guys gave their statements. Problem was; I did as well. I am Grandmother Machiavelli’s handmaiden and can pay homage when someone deserves credit. Luke, damn his diabolical brain, really deserved credit.
Misunderstanding my silence, Stella frowned. “We do think Luke is a butthead to talk to Trent and Billy about you like a sex object, Aunt Bel.”
I thanked the loyal feminists before me, amused that they supported me despite their adoration of all things Luke Drake.
To be fair, I then explained Luke’s strategy to them both so they would understand his good intentions towards me, and see how truly sneaky he was capable of being.
To Anna, I raised my brows. “You haven’t forgotten our one hour lesson at Rueb’s with Mr. Tricky?”
She shuddered and laughed. “Ugh, I’ll never forget that lesson with Mr. Tricky! How was I supposed to know this was the same thing? You’re right, he’s truly sneaky.”
I also confessed that I had used similar tactics on Ron Hansen. I explained it was my understanding of how a misogynistic, abusive man would think that made me approach Ron Hansen as I did. “He’d see me as harmless eye-candy if my shirt was undone. It allowed me to get close enough to get my kicks in.” I nodded in remembered satisfaction. “His reaction was what I’d calculated on. I had no intentions of coming out of that encounter anything but the winner against that little bastard.”
I told the girls it wasn’t worth trying to convince the men that swiftly calculating odds and taking action was anything but an idiotic move for a woman with no weapons and no training in fighting. Mainly, I didn’t bother because it was idiotic when you looked at it that way. For me, it boiled down to a simple choice. I’d rather regret attempting an action that I thought could be successful over agonizing later that I did nothing to help.
Stella and Anna were both nodding in thoughtful agreement when I finished.
There was a crease of worry between Stella’s eyes when she asked, “I don’t get something, though. Where did you learn to understand what an abusive, misogynistic man would be thinking?”
“The Oxygen channel, Oprah’s book picks, and observing politicians.” I answered promptly.
Anna’s laughter echoed off the high ceiling. “Hey, is Chief Jack an elected official?”
We held our sides laughing.
Catching my breath, I narrowed my eyes at Stella. “Don’t even think of doing anything like I did today if you value our lives. Your mom would pulverize me and ground you for life. Or vice versa.”
Blue eyes slyly sparkling, my cheeky niece vowed, “I swear to God and promise I won’t.”
The three of us cracked up for a good five minutes at that one.
Locking up behind them a little later, I wasn’t smiling any longer when I thought over the last few hours. Hopefully, none of this would ever be an issue again. It wasn’t like I had plans to romp on men’s ding-dongs as a way of life. Well, there was one man’s ding-dong I currently wanted to romp on. In my brooding, dangerous mood when thinking about Luke’s involvement all over my life, I wasn’t quite sure whether it was to inflict pleasure or pain. Cruel of me, I know, but I never denied I was a control freak. I definitely needed a fun night out with my girls.
Chapter XI
“Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper
Saturday, 11/17/12
7:00 PM
Somehow, everything got accomplished on my mental check list by seven o’clock. The quick shower I took had me raring to go. I was ready to put this day behind me and party.
Outside of Bel’s Books, I was waiting to be picked up by Jazy. The November night skies were clear and the cold air was refreshing; I could see my breath. The temperature had steadily dropped over the
day and now hovered in the high twenties. There was a big snow in the forecast for early tomorrow and I thought about sledding in the afternoon.
Pacing and rubbing my chilled arms, it was easy to conclude I came close to smothering in the birth canal as I arrived in this world. It’s the only explanation for my irrational dislike of being bundled up in coats, or constricted, in any way. I’d reluctantly brought a light jacket tonight with mittens stuffed in the pockets, in case of an emergency. Not that I had any plans to wear it. It still took wind chill factors of around thirty below to get me to admit winter had arrived in all its frigid glory and dress appropriately. I was proud of myself that I’d brought a jacket along for the ride. This was a positive sign. Maybe by the age forty I’d bring a hat, too.
When I was young, it was a common winter theme in my life to endure endless trudges home from impromptu, fun sledding wearing only wet shoes and sopping jeans. In my own miserable world, I’d chant a mantra of negotiations with that higher power to “Please, oh please just get me home before amputation is necessary, and I’ll be a good girl forever.”
I regularly suffered through the pins and needles pain of frozen feet and ears thawing out. I often had chapped inner thighs that burned like a son of a gun. I worshiped the manufacturers of petroleum jelly. I am super-depressed Stella found my hidden cache of Vaseline during her most recent “search and destroy” sortie into my apartment.
I slowed my pacing to admire the street before me. Like Bel’s Books, many of the buildings lining Division Street were built in the late 1800’s and stood only two or three stories tall. Up and down the blocks, the buildings shared common walls in the thrifty, expeditious mode of construction popular during frontier times. Their storefront facades were designed to be unique from their attached neighbors by the different materials used, such as painted wood, brick, stone, and decorative awnings. It made for a quaint, charming downtown, even allowing for the occasional modern building thrown into the mix.