Murder, Trouble & Family

by Marianne Spitzer

  She said, “It’ll be returned to you as soon as the techs copy the voice file and photograph the Caller ID. It shouldn’t take long. They’ll call your cell, and you can pick it up at the station. Are you doing okay after yesterday?”

  I picked up my coffee pot. “Yeah, I’m okay. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d like that,” she answered and took a seat at my table.

  We chatted a while and then she received a call. She had to leave but reminded me to be careful.

  ~ * ~

  After church and an enjoyable lunch with Aunt Irene, I decided to head over to the bookstore. I don’t usually go into the store on Sunday, but I had work to do since I spent most of yesterday at the mansion. I love living in a small town. I can make my own hours if I have something to do that keeps me from the store. If I’m not open during regularly scheduled hours, my customers know to leave a voice mail message about the book they’re looking for, and I get back to them. I often deliver a book to a senior citizen the way I had done for Inga before she passed away. It’s how we became good friends, and I inherited Yummy. I can’t imagine living in the hustle and bustle of a big city.

  Aunt Irene watched Yummy. The sweet little dog tends to sneeze when I begin to dust the bookshelves, and I needed to dust today. Things got away from me the past week.

  I dropped my purse on the sofa. I walked to the front of the store to be sure the ‘Closed’ sign was in place. Sometimes people come by when they see lights, but usually don’t bother me if the sign is up. I noticed the answering machine light blinking. I listened to three messages and jotted down the book titles the callers were inquiring about. I’d return their calls tomorrow. I slipped the paper with the titles into my front counter drawer and headed for the back room. I purchased a ladder recently to dust the top shelves. According to Clark, I’m height challenged and at five two I guess he’s right. A couple of months ago I tried to climb a bookshelf to dust and set a book up that I accidentally knocked over. I sort of became stuck on the top shelf. I could have gotten down given a little time, but of course Claudine walked past and saw me. She laughed and called 911. The fire department rescued me. I was mortified, but took the advice of the fire chief and purchased a ladder for work over my head. That would be most jobs since, at five-two, the top shelves are above my head.

  I opened the storage room door and came face to face or rather face to mask with the dark clothed intruder I assumed was after me yesterday. I screamed although both shops on either side of me were closed.

  “Quiet,” the intruder hissed.

  I was ready to scream again when he raised his arm and aimed a gun right at my nose. “Open the cellar door.” This time the intruder’s voice was a forced, high-pitched screech. It’s definitely fake, but this is not the same person who was at the mansion. The voice doesn’t sound mechanically altered, just fake.

  This is it, Annie. He’s going to take you down there and shoot you. No one will look for you for a long while and if the bullet doesn’t kill you right off, the time waiting for help will. I’m doomed. Oh, my goodness gracious. I’m never getting married. I’ll never see Laci or Clark again. Lord help me, I have two people who want me dead.

  “I said open the door,” the figure hissed again.

  “It’s locked,” I answered.

  “Get the key.”

  I did as instructed, but my hands shook badly enough that I could barely get the key in the lock. When I did, and the lock clicked, the figure spoke again.

  “Pick up your purse, leave your cell phone on the table, and head down the stairs,” the voice commanded.

  I again did as instructed and gripped the old wooden handrail as I began my decent to my doom. It was frightening to know I was being forced to my death by an evil cartoon voiced maniac. When the door slammed leaving me in complete darkness, I jumped nearly falling down the stairs.

  I don’t feel any pain. Am I dead? No, that sound was the door, not a bullet. I can feel the railing. I’m still on the steps. He didn’t kill me. Maybe he’s afraid someone might hear the gun shot. Will he kill me later? Get a grip, Annie, and do something to help yourself.

  I walked down the last five steps and carefully made my way to the back wall. My house and Aunt Irene’s cottage are too close to the lake for a basement that wouldn’t leak. Whenever we have severe storm or tornado watches we head for the store. If there’s a warning, we hurry into the cellar.

  Ha, I know something you don’t. Annie, stop acting like a child and get ready.

  I’m prepared for anything, and I have a large airtight plastic tub full of supplies. I want us to be ready if we become trapped. There are water bottles, granola bars, and best of all candles and a lighter. I lit a candle, and the small light brightened the darkness in the cellar and my spirit. If the intruder didn’t plan to return and kill me, I’d be okay. Aunt Irene would eventually worry. I hope she calls the police. If the killer does plan on coming back, I better figure something out.

  I found a two-foot metal pole.

  Hmm, that might work. I can hide under the stairs. If he comes back and begins to walk down here, I’ll whack him in the knee. He’ll fall and hopefully knock himself out. Yup, that sounds like a plan.

  I settled under the stairs with the pipe and candle. If I hear the door open, I’ll blow out the candle. He won’t be able to see any better than I can. If he does turn on the light, I’ll whack him before he sees me. Good plan. I also need to buy a cheap cell phone to add to my supply bin and charge it every few days in case we’re ever trapped again. One would come in handy right now. All I can do is bang on pipes, but no one is around. Tomorrow morning I’ll do that if Aunt Irene doesn’t call the police and if I’m still alive.

  What’s he doing up there? I hear footsteps and an occasional crash. I’m glad Yummy isn’t here. He would be frightened. He’d bark to protect me, and that awful person might shoot him. Don’t think that way, Annie. Another crash. Those must be my precious books. What is he looking for? Is it a he? I would say maybe five-nine or ten. A woman in four-inch heels could pass for a medium height man. The person is thin. Could be female. Hmm, I wonder. With the intruder at the mansion and now here, I think he’s definitely looking for something. Why bug me? Does he know I discovered the necklace? He must be convinced I found whatever else he is looking for. I wonder what it is. I still think it’s a different person. What are the odds two intruders would try and kill me? With my luck, I shouldn’t be surprised. People around town heard about my run-in with Detective Nate and the key fob so if that key fob actually came from Barbara’s car, the intruder would know the police have it. I sure don’t. Hmm, it’s been quiet for a while. Did he leave?

  I sat quietly knowing I would have to wait for the police. It didn’t seem as if the person was coming back to shoot me. Yesterday he sure seemed as if he wanted something from me. Maybe he gave up or knew better than to shoot a gun downtown just in case someone heard it. Who knows? I felt a bug crawl across my arm and did my best not to scream. I prayed for strength to see me through until the police rescued me. It might take until morning. Good thing I’m prepared.

  What was that? Did I hear the back door? Oh no, he’s coming. Wait, why is the candle nearly burned down to a stub? My watch says almost six. I’ve been here nearly four hours. Would he come back after that much time?

  “Annie, Annie, are you here?” I heard Aunt Irene’s trembling voice call out.

  “Yes, I’m locked in the cellar,” I called.

  “Where is the key?” I heard her ask.

  “I don’t know. Someone locked me in. Maybe they took it.”

  “Okay,” she yelled through the door. I want you to get as far away from the door as you can.

  “Aunt Irene, just call 911.”

  “You’ll be fine dear, are you away from the door?”

  “Yes,” I called out.

  A second later I heard a loud blast. Wood splintered and flew around the cellar. I could see light coming th
rough a hole in the door. Aunt Irene opened the door, and I saw her silhouetted in the light at the top of the stairs holding her hunting rifle.

  “Come on up dear, the coast is clear,” she smiled a broad smile.

  I blew out the candle and raced up the stairs. I hugged Aunt Irene.

  “You’re my hero, but why did you know to come and bring your rifle?” I asked grateful to be alive.

  “I tried to call you and ask if you wanted to have dinner with me. I’m making meatballs and wondered how many to make. You didn’t answer. After I tried several times, I was worried. I thought whoever broke into the mansion yesterday might try and get to you. I didn’t think about the police. I grabbed my rifle and drove here as fast as I could. I’m glad I did.” She set the rifle down and hugged me back. A bit of mischief flashed in her eyes. I think she enjoyed being my hero.

  I heard sirens, and someone was pounding on the front door. It was Detective Nate.

  I groaned but opened the door.

  His tall bear-like frame filled the doorway, and he walked in mumbling to himself. Then he looked at me and asked. “Why did your aunt call 911? You appear fine. It’s a waste of our time and a crime to call in a false report.” His eyes squinted, and I could see him chewing the inside of his cheek.

  I felt my face flush with anger. “Well, first off, the intruder that was at the mansion was here and locked me in the cellar. Actually, I think it might have been a different intruder. Second, look around. He tossed my books all over looking for something. Third, Aunt Irene rescued me. Don’t accuse her of calling in a false report. I was almost killed. The guy had a gun.”

  “Uh huh,” he mumbled, and he walked to the back of the store. “How do you suppose he got in and what happened to this door? Why do you keep a rifle out where anyone could grab it? You have a lot to explain Mrs. Ryan.”

  “What? Me? Why don’t you put out an APB or whatever you call it about the guy who locked me in my cellar for four hours? What the heck is wrong with you?” I marched up and looked him straight in the eye.

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job, missy.”

  “Don’t call me missy. You're rude.” I yelled.

  He glared back, “I could arrest you for interfering with an investigation.”

  “What?” I yelled again. “You’re investigating a crime against me. How can I interfere?”

  Just then Clifford walked up. He looked at my aunt and asked, “Is that your rifle?”

  “Yes it is and I rescued Annie from the cellar.” Aunt Irene crossed her arms and looked at Clifford. “You guys don’t seem like you want to help her. When she’s in trouble, you try to cause more trouble for her. This oaf of a detective wants to arrest her, and he hasn’t even asked her what happened here. What kind of a department are you running, Clifford Elroy?”

  “Aunt Irene calm down. No one is going to arrest Annie. However, I think you blew a hole in Annie’s cellar door with your rifle. You have a current permit for it?” Clifford shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Yes, I do and I’m certified down at the hunting range. I’m a darn good shot.” Aunt Irene was still glaring at Detective Nate.

  I took her by the arm and had her sit on the sofa. “Calm down, I’ll take care of this.” I kissed her forehead and turned to look at Clifford and Detective Nate.

  “Look, whoever broke into the mansion, broke in here. Maybe, or it might have been a different person. The voices sounded different. Whatever. He threatened me with a gun and locked me in the cellar. Aunt Irene shot the lock off the door to save me. Her rifle is licensed, and this is private property. It’s my store, and I’m not pressing charges. Leave her alone.” I stood with my fists balled at my sides.

  “You tell ‘em, Annie,” my aunt said.

  I smiled at her and turned back to ask Clifford. “So, do you want to know what happened here or not? Maybe Nate here wants to arrest Aunt Irene, too. It’ll make a great story for the paper. Elderly woman arrested for saving her niece from a masked intruder. What do you think, Clifford? Will people like the story?” I crossed my arms and tapped my foot waiting for an answer.

  Detective Nate’s face turned that weird shade of red again. I worried he had a blood pressure problem, but I thought I should keep that to myself.

  Clifford walked halfway to the front of the store, spun on his heel, and walked back to face me. “Okay, I’ll ignore what Aunt Irene did to help you. I do want her to go to the shooting range this week and bring a certificate of proficiency to the station, so I know she’s not a danger.”

  Aunt Irene nodded agreement to Clifford’s request.

  Clifford looked at Detective Nate, “You can go back to the station. I’ll talk to Annie.”

  “But…” the detective started.

  “Just go, I’ll handle this.”

  Detective Nate shot me a look that could kill and walked out of the store.

  I explained what happened, and Clifford asked me to come down to the station to give a formal statement.

  “Can I make sure Aunt Irene gets home okay first?” I asked.

  He nodded and left Aunt Irene and me alone in the store.

  “Come on, I’ll follow you home, and then I’ll give my statement, and you can finish those meatballs. I’m getting hungry.” I hugged her tightly and said a silent prayer we were both all right. Things could have been much worse.

  Lyle’s car was parked in front of my house when Aunt Irene pulled into the drive so I knew she would be okay while I was at the station.

  ~ * ~

  Fortunately, Detective Nate was nowhere to be seen when I arrived at the station. However, Detective Berg was there. He smiled at me. I used to think he was a bad guy, but he’s just serious about his business. At times, he can still play bad cop very well, and I try my best to stay on his good side. I think his cousin should take a few lessons. Detective Nate seems stuck in bad cop mode.

  Clifford walked out and asked me to follow him to his office. I gave my statement and answered the few questions he asked. It was painless.

  Just before I left, I asked him, “I know you’re in contact with Clark. Please don’t tell him about this. He has a case to finish, and I worry he’ll get hurt if he’s not concentrating on the case.”

  He nodded and added, “Don’t worry, Clark will be okay.”

  ~ * ~

  Dinner was fantastic. Spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and chocolate cream pie was my favorite meal. Lyle insisted I go home and rest. He would help my aunt clean up the dishes. I think he cares about her more than I realized.

  An hour later Yummy and I were settled on the couch watching a movie when my phone chirped. It was a text from Georgie:

  “On the front porch.

  Open the door.”

  I opened the door to find my best friend holding two hot fudge sundaes covered in whipped cream.

  She held one out to me. “I thought you could use this after the day you had.”

  She wasn’t wrong, and while I knew adding a sundae on top of the chocolate cream pie might add a pound or two, I know I could work it off before the wedding. After my day, I did need all the chocolate I could get.

  Georgie sat on the couch and said she ran out of ideas about names with the letter ‘A,’ but she had a new idea.

  “Close your eyes and picture the intruder. Try and imagine the body in street clothes. Who do you think it could be? Do you think both intruders are the same person?” She turned to look at me and pulled her leg up under her.

  I closed my eyes and tried my best to picture who it was.

  “I thought about this today. It is either an average height man or a woman in heels making herself taller. The body build is thin. I don’t think the person has any sort of paunch. I think the intruder is the same height and weight as the Mayor or Councilman Phillips. He’s shorter than Clark and Paul, but I never suspected either of them anyway.”

  Georgie giggled. “I can’t see my hubby as the ski mask intruder type.”

&nbs
p; “Hey.” I looked at her. “The person today wore a loose fitting hood and not a ski mask. I thought it was odd, but maybe they needed to blend back in when they left so they didn’t want hat hair.”

  Georgie twisted her lip and shrugged. “Might be a woman in heels. Who would fit that description?”

  “Well, several women I guess. If she was in heels, she was confident in her walk. It was like that’s all she wore. Who do we know that lives in heels?”

  We looked at each other and said at the same time, “Claudine.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dealing with a masked intruder two days in a row unnerved me more than I expected. Although I have a top notch security system in the house, I checked every door and window before double-checking the security alarm. Confident it was set, I went up to shower and climbed into bed. Yummy snuggled next to my head.

  Sleep eluded me. I heard Yummy’s gentle breathing in my ear. Of course, he isn’t worried about masked intruders or murders or being locked in a cellar. I, on the other hand, worried about it all. I couldn’t get the idea of Claudine out of my head. Could it have been her? She hates me, but would she have shot me? Maybe since she believes I killed Barbara. It could be she has gone a little crazy losing her best friend. I’m not sure what I’d do if I thought someone killed Georgie. Tears prickled my eyes just thinking about it. I shook off the idea.

  My next rational thought was I wanted to throw the alarm out the window. Yummy barked and ran around on top of my bed. He didn’t like the alarm any more than I did.

  I let Yummy outside and noticed Aunt Irene’s cottage was dark. Maybe they’re sleeping late or went to Lyle’s. His car wasn’t in front of my house. Aunt Irene had a busy day yesterday, too.

  Yummy and I ate breakfast, and he walked into his carrier when it was time to leave for the bookstore. I carried him to the car and attached the seatbelt to his carrier. Some may think I’m foolish to take precautions, but he’s a big part of my life now. He makes me laugh and knows when I am sad. He dances around when I cry until I laugh. I can’t imagine life without him.