Case of the Dysfunctional Daredevils

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  Acknowledging my curiosity had been piqued, I pulled up behind the shiny blue Vette and parked. I glanced over at Jillian, intent on telling her to wait in the car with the dogs, when I caught sight of the store Ash had parked in front of: A Lazy Afternoon. It was Clara Hanson’s shop, and damned if I couldn’t stop myself shuddering. How badly did I want to find out what Ash has been up to?

  I was in the process of pulling my seat belt back across my lap when I heard the tell-tale ‘click’ of the passenger seat belt being disengaged. Jillian had opened the door, stepped out, and was reaching inside for the dogs’ leashes when she noticed I hadn’t budged.

  “What are you doing? Don’t you want to go inside to see what your marshal is doing in a bookstore?”

  I made a point of glancing at the shop’s front door, then up at the wooden shop sign, and then back at the steering wheel, all without saying anything.

  “She’s not that bad, Zachary. Come on. We’re going inside.”

  Jillian and the dogs disappeared through the door, just as I stepped out of the car, muttering like Yosemite Sam.

  “Freakin’ give-me-the-willies creepy ol’ lady,” I muttered, under my breath.

  Stepping into the small bookstore, several things became apparent right off the bat. First, Ash was nowhere to be seen. Second, my desire to get out of this store without being noticed by the proprietor was not gonna happen.

  “Zack! It’s so good of you to come visit me, darlin’! Just a second. I’ll be right there, Sugar.”

  While I cringed, and waited for the inevitable invasion of my personal space to happen, I became aware of another presence. Before I could turn to see what it was, I heard a rapid fluttering of wings, and just like that, I had the store’s alarm system perched on my shoulder. An African gray parrot, by the name of Ruby, nuzzled up against my face and softly cooed. I reached up to stroke the bird’s head when the soft gray fluffball surprised me again by leaping into my open hand. Right on cue, Sherlock fired off a couple of warning woofs.

  “Heavens above, I don’t know what’s gotten into that bird,” Clara was saying, as she navigated her way through the narrow aisles of books. She placed herself in front of me with her hands on her hips, and stared, amazed, at her parrot. Unfortunately, I could only stare at her, with my mouth open.

  “Like what you see, darlin’?”

  My mouth snapped closed. Hoo boy. You’ll have to give me a moment so as to better describe the scene before me.

  Clara’s hair, which is usually styled in the manner of Marge Simpson’s, was now cotton candy pink, and just about as fluffy. It was arranged in a bright, poufy afro, and looked as ridiculous as any of the other myriad of styles she has tried. Moving past the hair, I have to take a moment to mention the outfit. Ms. Clara Hanson, septuagenarian, had on a skin-tight leopard print bodysuit. I learned that day there were things that I simply couldn’t unsee, no matter how much I tried. Or willed. Completing the ghastly look was a pair of fur-lined black ankle boots.

  Horrified, I glanced over at my fiancé. Jillian, much to her credit, confided to me later that she had nearly gasped out loud when she saw the overall look. We both agreed that Ms. Hanson’s fashion sense, while never that tasteful to begin with, was definitely waning. I truly believed that the next stop on Clara Hanson’s whack-job senility train was a little town called Insanity, and it was located just around the corner.

  “Ruby, what are you doing? Get back on your perch, you silly thing.”

  “Give us a kiss, Precious! Give us a kiss!”

  The shop owner waggled a finger at the bird. “If Zack kisses anyone, it’ll be me.”

  “The only one I’ll be kissing is standing right over there,” I pointed out, as I tried valiantly to suppress my desire to do one of those full-body twitches. “I’m sure you’ve met her before, haven’t you?”

  Taken aback, Clara turned to see where I was pointing. To her credit, she acted as though she hadn’t seen Jillian or the dogs enter.

  “Jillian! How are you, dearie? I didn’t see you there. Zachary, don’t be silly. Of course I know her. Wait a moment. Are you trying to tell me the two of you are an item?”

  “Oh, you and your memory,” Jillian teased. “You know full well that Zachary and I are engaged. I told you the last time you were in my store, Cookbook Nook, remember?”

  Clara rubbed her chin and tried to look thoughtful.

  “I don’t seem to recall, dearie. But, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? I’m so happy for you two!”

  I shared a look with Jillian. She certainly didn’t sound like she was happy, nor did she look it. Maybe now she’ll start respecting my personal space?

  “Let me just get her off your shoulder, Zackie-Boy.”

  Zackie-Boy? Where the hell did that come from?

  Clara then proceeded to practically throw her arms around me, while rubbing up against my chest, in an ‘attempt’ to reclaim her parrot. Unfortunately, that meant her front was now rubbing on my front, and if I wasn’t thoroughly grossed out before, I sure as hell was now. Ruby, properly spooked, flew off my shoulder and landed back on her perch, near the cashier’s station. A few moments later, the small little parrot was squawking her displeasure.

  “I’m squealin’ from the feelin’, Precious! Squealin’ from the feelin’!”

  Jillian’s shocked look mirrored my own. The only way Ruby could have picked up that particular phrase was if Clara here had repeated it over and over. One look at the proprietor confirmed it. Thankfully, at least Clara appeared to be embarrassed.

  “What did I tell you about repeating that, Ruby? It’s not funny anymore!”

  Ruby cackled with delight and bobbed her head a few times.

  “Clara,” Jillian interjected, “can I ask you about something?”

  “You bet your hot young man you can,” Clara chortled. “What can I do for you, dearie?”

  Jillian pointed outside. “Can you tell us if you saw the person who parked that Corvette outside?”

  Surprised, Clara looked outside and walked over to the front windows. She pointed at the blue sports car as if to verify she didn’t believe we were talking about the same car.

  “That one? The Stingray? Well, of course I saw who drove it.”

  “Where did he go?” I eagerly asked.

  “He?” Clara repeated, as she frowned. “There’s no ‘he’ involved. I drove that car, Zackie-Boy.”

  I let the shudder-worthy moniker slide for now.

  “You? Why would you be driving that car?”

  “Because it’s mine, dearie! My Prius is in the shop. I was forced to drive that beast.”

  “There must be more than one in town,” I decided. I glanced down at the dogs, but was surprised to see both of them staring straight at Clara. Typically, neither dog would give the crackpot senior the time of day. That nagging voice inside my head was telling me that I needed to probe a little further. “So, um, have you loaned that car out to anyone lately?”

  “My Prius? Absolutely not. No one drives my baby but me.”

  “I’m talking about the ‘Vette,” I kindly pointed out.

  “That car was my late husband’s pride and joy,” Clara wistfully recalled. “I’ve never really known why he enjoyed it so much. It may look pretty, but oh honey, does it ever drive rough. Wait. Are you wanting to know if I’ve loaned out my Corvette to anyone? You’re talking about my late husband’s car, aren’t you?”

  “We know you probably haven’t,” Jillian soothed. “We’re sorry to bother you. We’ll head out now.”

  “No one has driven that car but me for years,” Clara continued, completely ignoring Jillian’s attempt to take our leave. “No one but that nice Mr. Binson, that is.”

  Both corgis woofed. Jillian and I froze, mid-step, on our way out the door. As one, we turned back to the shopkeeper.

  “Come again?” I said.

  “He’s such a nice-looking young man that I offered to let him use the car while he was staying wit
h me.”

  “Ash Binson... is staying… with you?” I incredulously repeated.

  Clara happily nodded, “It’s so nice to have a man in the house again.”

  “Why is he staying in your house?” Jillian politely, but firmly, asked.

  “He’s renting a room from me, of course,” Clara proudly exclaimed. “He’s the one who’s overseeing the oil change being performed on my car right now. As soon as it’s finished, he’ll be stopping by here to exchange cars. I’ll be glad to get my car back. I… is that the roadster I’ve heard so much about? Parked next to my blue beast?”

  I nodded. As God is my witness, I have no idea why I was prompted to say the following. “If you like smooth rides, then you’d love a ride in the Ruxton. They did a great job with that car.”

  “Oooo, I accept!” Clara happily cried.

  I blinked a few times. “Wait, what?”

  “I’d love to go on a ride with you in that wonderful car of yours.”

  Oh, snap. I looked at my fiancé, hopeful that she’d come to my aid. But did she??

  “I think you’re free this Friday night, Zachary,” Jillian said, as she made a point of looking at her phone’s calendar app. “You could show her a good time then.”

  My eyes narrowed. There was no way in hell that I was gonna allow myself to be alone, in a car, with Clara Hanson. Ever.

  “Perhaps another time,” I hastily said, suppressing what had to be my third or fourth shudder since stepping foot inside this blasted store. “Thank you very much for your help. The dogs are getting restless, so we’d best be going.”

  “Don’t be a stranger, sweetie,” Clara cooed. She looked over at Jillian and her smile thinned. “See you around, dearie!”

  “I can’t believe you invited her for a drive in your car,” Jillian laughed, the moment we pulled away. “And here, all this time, I thought you didn’t like her.”

  “I don’t like her,” I clarified. “At all. She has creeped me out from day one. Blech.”

  My phone rang. Wanting to keep the car as original as possible, I had opted for a standard, classic in-dash radio. That meant no Bluetooth, which meant I could be ticketed and fined by the state of Oregon if I answered while behind the wheel. Thankfully, I had a passenger.

  “It’s Vance,” Jillian reported, as she looked at the display. She tapped the screen a few times, and then sat back in her seat.

  “Hello, Vance, it’s Jillian. You have us both. Zachary is driving, so I won’t let him anywhere near the phone.”

  “Good for you. I was calling to give you an update.”

  “That’s good timing,” Jillian returned. “We have one for you, too.”

  “Oh? You do? What’s your news about?”

  “It’s about Marshal Binson,” Jillian answered.

  I nodded, “Yeah. Do you remember that Corvette we saw him driving?”

  “The blue coupe? Yeah, what about it?”

  “Well, it belongs to Clara Hanson.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Wish I was, buddy. And it gets better.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “He’s renting a room from her,” Jillian said.

  “Ash is renting a room from Clara Hanson? There’s a mental picture I didn’t need.”

  “Right??”

  “Why the hell would he want to rent a room from her?”

  “Proof positive he’s not from around here,” I quipped.

  “What did you find out, Vance?” Jillian asked.

  “Oh, only our friend Mr. Binson is thiiiiiis close to being kicked out of the U.S. Marshal Service.”

  My eyes widened with surprise. I glanced over at Jillian, but something on her face told me this didn’t surprise her that much.

  “You knew, didn’t you?” I mock-teased.

  “Knew what?” Vance wanted to know.

  “It looks like this doesn’t come as a surprise to Jillian.”

  “The signs were there,” my fiancé told me. “Unprofessional, haphazard investigative techniques, and willingness to put civilians in harm’s way. I’m sorry to interrupt. What exactly did you find out, Vance?”

  “Well, if you were wondering whether or not Ash Binson is legit, then rest assured, he is. But, if he’s not careful, he won’t be for much longer.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I wanted to know.

  “Get this. Marshal Ash Binson is in deep shit with his bosses.”

  “Language,” Jillian warned.

  “Sorry. Umm, he’s in deep crap. Looks like Ash Binson has been ordered to apprehend his suspect, or don’t bother coming back.”

  I shared an incredulous look with Jillian.

  “Really? That’s a bit harsh. No wonder he’s been out here so long.”

  “No wonder he’s so desperate to keep you and Vance in this thrill-seeking club,” Jillian surmised. “But, I wouldn’t think the ability to apprehend a criminal would be contingent on whether or not the poor man can stay a marshal.”

  “Oh, it gets better. Apparently, what Marshal Binson neglected to tell us was that he was the one who lost Jerod in the first place.”

  I sat up straight in the Ruxton’s driver seat.

  “You mean…”

  “Ash was escorting the prisoner back to Texas when he lost him. Right from under his nose, according to the reports.”

  “He certainly left that part out earlier, didn’t he?” I said, annoyed.

  “From what I learned from the Texas Marshal Service office, they called Chief Nelson and said, and I quote, ‘Leniency has expired. Return with the fugitive within the next three days or excursion will be terminated.’ If it comes to that, then Ash Binson will be discharged from the marshal service.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” I asked, as I guided the smooth-rolling Ruxton onto the highway and gave it some gas.

  “I say we tell Ash we have some new information and we should meet up for lunch. Or dinner.”

  “You should be the one to arrange that,” Jillian told him. “You’re the detective. You’re the one with the influence to force his hand.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”

  “He’s the one who lost Jerod in the first place,” I said. “That explains a lot.”

  “You shouldn’t be so hard on him,” Jillian told me. “Mistakes can happen to anyone.”

  “And because of his, several people have died.”

  “Do you really think Jerod is responsible for the disasters which have befallen the Daredevils?” Jillian asked.

  I nodded, “I do. Either that, or Vance is gonna somehow blame me. It’s only a matter of time before he starts calling me Grim Reaper.”

  My cell phone rang. Jillian answered, and put the call on speaker.

  “That was quick. Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, it is, Jillian. Listen, Zack?”

  “I’m here.”

  “We’re set for dinner tonight.”

  “Who’ll be there?” I wanted to know.

  “You, me, and him.”

  I looked over at my fiancé and cringed. Jillian and I were due to have dinner together tonight. I really didn’t want to mess that up. My hesitation must have told Vance all he needed to hear.

  “I’m messing up your plans with Jillian, aren’t I?”

  “You are, buddy.”

  “I’m sorry. Listen, do this for me, and your next dinner out will be on the PVPD. Deal?”

  “Anywhere I choose to go?” Jillian guardedly asked.

  “Yes. Anywhere you’d like to go.”

  Crap. That mean another night out at that fancy French restaurant that had the nasty-ass frog legs I unknowingly ordered on my first visit. But, it was Jillian’s favorite, so as long as she was amenable to changing our plans, who was I to argue?

  “Yeah, okay. If Jillian’s okay with it, then so am I.”

  “How much Crystal Rose do you think you can drink?” Jillian thoughtfully asked. “I could phone ahe
ad and have them order an additional bottle or two.”

  I heard Vance groan. Crystal Rose was a type of champagne, a very expensive one at that. Jillian’s favorite bottle of bubbly retails for $400 a pop, a fact not lost on my tightwad friend. I don’t know. If I didn’t have to pay for it, maybe I could choke down a glass or two?

  “I’m sure I could put one away by myself,” I said.

  “Bull. I know you hate champagne, pal.”

  “Now’s as good a time as any to give it another try, don’t you think?”

  “You’re killing me, Zack.”

  “Which restaurant? Where are we meeting Ash?”

  “Tre Formaggio.”

  “Ooo, they have fantastic breadsticks there,” Jillian gushed. “Be sure to pick me up some.”

  “Deal,” I grinned.

  ----

  “So, what have you uncovered?” Ash asked, several hours later. He took a sip from his glass of ice water and looked expectantly at the detective. “What’s so important that you wanted to meet now? Don’t you have to get ready for your skydiving adventure tomorrow?”

  Vance and I shared a look. We both knew damn well why the marshal had only ordered a glass of water, and not something more expensive, like a beer. He was obviously still here, on his own dime, and wanted to keep the expenses down as low as possible. What other possible explanation would exist for why someone would willingly stay with Clara Hanson?.

  “Well, a few new developments have come to light,” Vance casually began.

  Ash eagerly leaned forward. “Such as?”

  “Like discovering why you have been hanging around Pomme Valley for so long.”

  Ash blinked a couple of times, confused. “I don’t follow.”

  “How come you didn’t tell us that you were the one responsible for allowing Jerod to escape?”

  Ash’s smile disappeared from his face. He slowly sat back in his chair and frowned.

  “Who have you been talking to?”

  “Just one Derrick Landcaster, back in Austin, Texas.”

  Ash groaned again.