by Amy Vansant
“The pig? No. Gun’s loaded with blanks.”
“Oh so it’s not like a real gun.”
“Bullets are under the seat, just in case.”
“Oh.” He looked down at his one soggy shoe. The other was missing, sucked off by the mud and lost to him at the bottom of the swamp. “So stupid.”
“In the future I wouldn’t go running into the brush like that. But if it makes you feel any better, you looked really brave.”
“I thought I saw the person who blew up the mailbox trying to get away.”
“But it was a pig.”
“I guess. Did you see anything?”
“Nope. I’m going to take you back to Charlotte to get fixed up and pick up Frank. I gave him a call and he’s home now. He can look into this mailbox mess.”
Declan nodded and Bob slapped him on the back.
“Good job. That was the most exciting night watch since Minnie Gaston got caught skinny dipping.”
Declan sighed. “Thanks.”
He took a closer look at what remained of Gloria’s mailbox and then stepped into the golf cart, doing his best not to track too much mud in with him. Before they drove again, Bob handed him the bourbon.
“You might need to finish this.”
Declan took it. “Don’t you want to save it for Frank?”
Bob laughed. “He’ll bring his own. Don’t worry about that. He knows I always try and sneak him the cheap stuff.”
As they neared Charlotte’s, Declan spotted a red sports car parked across the street, two houses past her home. There were still several car lengths behind when the car’s lights came on and it drove away from them.
Stephanie.
What was she up to now?
Declan sighed.
He still had to deal with that disaster as well. He looked down at his sock and wiggled his muddy toes.
And now he had to do it with one shoe.
Chapter Twenty-One
Charlotte had just said goodbye to Declan and Bob when another knock on her door had her spinning to return to the front of the house. She grinned, thinking it was Declan back to taunt her, and lunged for the door, narrowly avoiding Abby as the dog jostled for position.
“Hey sweetie,” said Mariska. Darla stood behind her, waving.
“It’s like Grand Central Station around here.”
“Why’s that?”
“Bob was just here picking up Declan for night watch…as if you two didn’t know that.”
“Why would we know that?” said Darla as they entered.
“Oh please. I knew Mariska pushed him to ask Declan out the second I saw his face in the door.”
Mariska gasped. “Now why would I do that?”
“In the hopes they’d bond…or, more than likely, just to spy on him. Find out if he’s worthy of me.”
“She’s good,” said Darla, offering Mariska a sideward glance.
Mariska grimaced. “I’m a little worried we’re getting predictable.”
“Could be. I knew you were going to say that.”
Gloria stepped into the front room.
“Hello ladies!”
“Gloria!” said Mariska. “What are you doing here?”
Charlotte looked at Mariska, stunned by the ease with which she could pretend she didn’t know Gloria was staying at her house.
“Someone’s trying to kill me, and Charlotte said I could stay here until she figures out who.”
“Oh my! Who would want to kill you?” said Darla.
Another little faker. She shut the door behind the ladies. “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“Right, so keep it on the low down that I’m here,” said Gloria.
“Down low,” corrected Charlotte.
“What?”
“It’s down low.”
Gloria looked at her toes. “What is?”
“Never mind.”
“So you’re helping Gloria and you’re trying to find Witchy-Poo. You are busy!” said Darla with enough sarcasm to imply that Witchy-Poo should be top priority.
“And I have a third case. A missing box.”
“A box?” asked Mariska.
She looked at Gloria. At dinner she’d been strong and told her she couldn’t divulge the particulars of Jackie’s case, but now she was itching to share.
Ah well. Gloria already knew she was working on another case, no sense hiding the details.
I’m weak. Admitting it is the first step.
She revealed the threats on Jackie’s life and the box she needed to find.
“Heavens, is everyone in this neighborhood being threatened?” said Mariska.
“Who’s this gangster?” asked Darla. “Since when do we have gangsters?”
“He’s from Tampa.”
“Oh,” said all three at once. That was the big city.
“Seamus is trying to find more about him so we know what we’re up against.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“I think I’ve located the box, but the lady is pretending she doesn’t have it.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She’s from Silver Lake.”
Again, all three sang “Oooh…” in unison, their lips curling in disgust.
“We need to get in there and take that box back,” said Darla.
“I’m thinking it might come to that, but I need to think it out. See if there’s any other way.”
“But you said you only have a week to get it.”
Charlotte nodded.
“You need revenge on that selfish woman,” muttered Gloria.
“Revenge? For what?”
“For being rude! She could have just given you the box, maybe asked for their money back. Instead, they had to be jerks. They should pay for that.”
“I don’t know…I don’t think it’s a revenge thing,” said Mariska.
“You’d be surprised what turns out to be a revenge thing,” mumbled Charlotte, glancing at the chalkboard. “You’re going to end up staying at my house for life if you don’t cool your jets.”
Gloria sniffed. “Well I already thought of an idea. If you want to hear it and solve all your problems…”
Charlotte shook her head and then realized Darla and Mariska were staring holes through her.
“Tell us,” said Mariska.
“We should at least hear what she has to say,” said Darla.
“It couldn’t hurt,” added Mariska.
Charlotte sighed. “Fine. What would you do, Gloria?”
“Me?” Gloria put her hand on her chest as if she was shocked someone would ask. “Well… It’s easy, really. What do the snotty little cowbells in that neighborhood like more than anything?”
“Snotty little cowbells?” echoed Charlotte.
“Bragging about how big their houses and lots are!” said Darla.
Gloria pointed at her. “Yes! But we can’t make their houses smaller…I guess…I mean, without burning them down.”
“Gloria!” said Charlotte. “Can you stay off the crazy train for ten minutes please?”
“I wasn’t suggesting we burn down their houses! I was just saying that would be the only way to make their houses smaller. That’s all. It was perfectly logical.”
“What about that extra pool?” asked Mariska. “They’re always yapping about how they have two pools.”
“Yes, but…say…filling the pool with roadkill or something wouldn’t help us get back the box.”
Charlotte put her head in her hands. Asking Gloria for help planning revenge was like opening Pandora’s box. She’d never be able to stuff all the crazy back in there.
Mariska and Darla looked at each other.
“What about their landscaping?” asked Gloria.
“Oh they’re always going on about the landscaping,” said Mariska, changing her voice to imply she was mimicking the Silver Lake women. “The service came by today and did such a fabulous job on the garden…”
“They picked al
l the blades of grass that didn’t match out with tweezers…” added Darla in the same snooty voice.
Gloria laughed and clapped her hands. “Yes!”
Charlotte looked up. “First off, Gloria, I’ve never seen you so giddy as here, now, hatching an evil plan, and that worries me for your long-term wellbeing.”
Gloria’s eyes sparkled. Seeing that her first comment hadn’t made a dent in the evil genius’ happiness, Charlotte continued.
“Second, how can Silver Lake’s passion for landscaping help me get the box?”
Gloria slapped her thigh, closed her eyes and threw back her head. “Landscaping…grass…dogs!”
“I don’t get it,” said Darla.
“I think she’s channeling some vengeful demon…” said Charlotte.
Mariska scowled. “Did she say dogs? How can dogs help? Miss Izzy won’t even go out to pee in the rain unless I hold an umbrella over her.”
“Miss Izzy is scared of the dark,” said Darla.
Mariska nodded. “It’s true.”
Having experienced her moment of inspiration, Gloria refocused on the group.
“Here’s the plan. We get as many people and their dogs as you can. We go into Silver Lake, en masse, and let the dogs do their business on all the lawns near the person who has the box. Her, the friend who warned her about Charlotte…all the other nearby lawns. Before you can say pooper-scooper, everyone will be out in a rage.”
“So?” asked Charlotte.
“So that’s when you sneak in and take the box!”
“Couldn’t I just wait until she leaves?”
“How are you going to know when she leaves? How are you going to stake out the house in Silver Lake?”
“Pete will let me in.”
“But there are two ladies there who would recognize you now.”
“I could send Seamus…”
“To wait for what? Maybe days? Someone will see him in a tiny cul-de-sac, that handsome man and his accent.”
Charlotte scowled. “Gloria, when was the last time you were on a date?”
She tilted her head and looked at the ceiling. “Maybe a year ago?”
“I think you might be due. I don’t think we’ve met a man in the last few days you didn’t think was handsome or try and feel up.”
Gloria tittered. “You might be right.”
“Get back to the plan!” said Mariska.
“Maybe we could just ask Parking Pass Pete to give us a call when she leaves?” suggested Darla.
“I don’t want to get him fired…”
“And her door would be locked if she left,” said Gloria.
Darla chuckled. “That’s usually where I come in.”
Gloria’s brow knit with confusion but Charlotte opted not to share Darla’s expertise in lock picking. Who knew what the little nut might ask her to do in the future if she knew? Darla didn’t need to know Gloria had her first husband sent to jail and her second struck by lightning, and Gloria didn’t need to know Darla’s ex was a thief who’d taught her how to pick locks.
She sighed. What was wrong with these people? If by a certain age everyone had a checkered past, she really needed to start cultivating hers or someday she would be the most boring person in the Port.
“That’s breaking and entering!” said Mariska. “If we sneak in when the door is open, then it is just entering. That’s got to be half the jail time, don’t you think?”
“Jail time!” said Charlotte. “This is all going too far.”
“You said you have a week,” said Gloria. “What choice do you have?”
“There has to be a better way. But I will take it under advisement.”
“It’s kind of a terrible idea,” said Mariska.
“No, I like it!” said Darla.
“You would.”
Gloria shrugged. “It’s what I would do. And I always win.”
“Do I need to remind you that someone is trying to kill you?” asked Charlotte.
The front door opened and Bob walked in.
“Sorry to come in without knocking but we could see you all through the front window,” he said. “We need some antiseptic. A lot of antiseptic. And a hose. Not necessarily in that order.”
“I have the hose,” called a voice from outside.
“What?” Mariska stood. “Are you okay?”
“Where’s Declan?” asked Charlotte.
As she moved towards Bob, she could see Declan standing at the threshold of her door beneath the porch light, hose in his hand. Black mud soaked his legs, khaki shorts and the bottom of his shirt. Every visible inch of his flesh had a cut or was caked with blood.
“Holy swamp thing!”
The other three women stood and trotted over to see what Charlotte saw. They all gasped in unison.
“Great. An audience,” muttered Declan.
What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Short version is Gloria’s mailbox blew up and he chased a pig into the brush thinking it was the bomber and ended up in the pond next to the house,” said Bob.
“Thanks, Bob,” said Declan hosing his legs. “You told that like pulling off a Band-Aid.”
“My mailbox blew up?” screeched Gloria.
“You chased a pig?” asked Darla.
“Why do you smell like booze?” asked Mariska, sniffing at Bob.
“I gotta go get Frank,” said Bob, pulling away from the group and heading back to his golf cart.
“We’re going to talk, mister!” Mariska called after him.
“I should go, too,” said Declan.
“Hold on, I’ll get you something to change into,” said Charlotte.
“Don’t! I’ll just go home—”
“You can’t get into your car like that!” said Mariska as Charlotte ran to her bedroom to look for clothes. “You stink like swamp mud.”
Charlotte searched her drawers and closets and found two things that might work. She looked back and forth from her fuzzy robe to her largest pair of sweatpants and knew Declan would feel equally ridiculous in either. She decided on the fuzzy robe. At least it wouldn’t be quite as…candid…about his physical bits as her sweatpants. She foraged for medical supplies and found only rubbing alcohol, a few Band-Aids and a nearly empty tube of Neosporin.
As she walked back down the hall, she heard the bathroom door open as she passed it.
“Charlotte!” hissed a voice.
She stopped. It was Declan.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I got you something to wear and some medical stuff.”
“The ladies insisted I take off my socks out there and come in here to get a shower. They pretty much pushed me down the hall. They said I might get some sort of jungle rot from being in the swampy water.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny jungle rot.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t feel bad! You were trying to stop a perp!”
“That’s nice of you to say, but it was a pig, not a perp. And a little bit of me suspects you only said that because you thought it would be fun to say perp.”
She grinned. “You already know me too well. Can I give you a kiss or will it hurt?”
“Go ahead. I think my lips are largely unscathed.”
She kissed him.
“Oh, just a second…” She ran to the hall closet and grabbed a towel, placing it strategically on top of the robe, and returned to him. “Here, take these things. If you want help with the cuts just let me know. You look like someone filled a shotgun with thumbtacks and shot you.”
“Thanks.”
He took the items. The door opened enough that she could see he was already down to his boxer briefs. Her eyes locked on his abs. They looked like someone had neatly stacked six charcoal briquettes beneath his skin.
Does he spend all his downtime at the shop doing sit-ups?
They hadn’t been dating very long and with all the distractions she really hadn’t had a chance to…<
br />
She searched for the words.
… read his body braille.
She chuckled at the phrase.
His gaze snapped up to meet hers and he held the towel and robe up to cover himself.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked.
“Just remind me never to write romance novels,” she said.
“I—you know…I’m not even going to ask. I’m going to get a shower before I get leprosy. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Bye,” she said, offering him a little wave before shutting the door. Once safely on the other side of it, she remained a moment longer and then snorted like a pig, twice, as loud as she could.
“That’s not funny!” he called from inside.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Oh you look so much better,” said Mariska.
They all turned to see. Declan stood at the end of the hall, Charlotte’s fuzzy pink robe hanging to the top of his knees.
Darla snorted a laugh and covered her mouth with her hand.
Declan pointed at the group. “If any of you ever breathe a word of this…”
Gloria’s hand was also over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter, her eyes teary.
“It’s all I had…” said Charlotte.
“Oh you’re going to pay for this,” he said, visibly struggling to squelch a smirk as he walked into the living room and sat in the corner chair. He sat with his knees together but they naturally fell open, so he crossed his legs and tucked the robe under his thighs.
“Such a lady,” said Darla.
Declan shook his head. “I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.”
“You have no idea,” said Gloria.
He looked at Charlotte. “Can I go home now?”
“Like that?”
He sighed. “Oh! My clothes. Do you have something I can put them in?”
“Like a Hazmat bag?”
Laughter started anew from the ladies.
“Like a garbage bag.”
“I already threw them in the laundry. Tell us about your evening.”
“Please!” said Gloria. “What happened to my mailbox?”
Declan told them the story of the exploding mailbox, the wild boar and trying to save his skin by jumping into the pond.
“Someone is still after you,” said Charlotte to Gloria.
Gloria nodded. “Seems like it. I just bought that darn mailbox.”