by Amy Vansant
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She looked back at Diana. “Never mind. We don’t have bags!”
“This is the dumbest idea,” Declan muttered to Bob, who stood next to him with his hands in his pockets, doing his best not to make eye contact with the angry ladies.
“I don’t even know why I’m here, except Mariska promised she’d get off my back about Bourbon Club for a bit if I helped, so here I am. And she’s over there…”
Declan looked to his left and spotted Mariska chatting with a dark-haired woman who lived to the left of Diana. That woman seemed more amused than angry.
“You can’t let them go all over our lawns! You’ll kill the grass!” said the first woman.
“It’s a free world!” said Gloria.
“But it burns the grass!” echoed Diana. “Poppy, what’s going on?”
“They’re letting their dogs go all over our lawns, that’s what’s going on!”
“I’m going to call security!”
“I’m sorry, could you come down here? I’m a little hard of hearing,” said Jackie to Diana.
Declan stared at the curb, worrying about Charlotte.
“I found Witchy-Poo!” screamed a voice to his left. He jumped and found Mariska directly behind him as Miss Izzy settled at his feet and panted.
“What are you talking about?” said Bob.
“Darla’s witch. I found it! It’s on a house around the corner! I was talking to that lovely woman over there, Simone, and I could see it between the houses.”
“I know you people! You’re from Pineapple Port! You shouldn’t even be in here!” screeched a voice behind them.
“Is that why we’re harassing these ladies?” asked Bob. “Because they stole Darla’s witch?”
“No, but I found her. You have to go get her.”
“On a roof?”
“Yes. You have to go get her back. Now, Bob.”
Bob looked at Declan. “Am I supposed to sprout wings?”
Declan glanced at Diana and saw that Gloria and Jackie had drawn her off her porch and tied her in a heated conversation. The woman who first appeared on her porch, the one with the pointy nose, joined the group and all four screamed back and forth at each other. Most of the other Pineapple ladies had gathered behind Jackie and Gloria. It was like the Sharks versus the Jets, only with less dancing and more dogs.
It looked as though Gloria and Jackie had Diana distracted. Charlotte and Darla would have plenty of time to slip into Diana’s home and find the box. He worried that if he moved to the shrieking group, as the only man, he might spook Diana. Plus he had zero urge to involve himself in that argument. He looked at Bob.
“I’ll help.”
“Thank you!” said Mariska. “Hurry!”
Declan handed Abby’s leash to Mariska and turned to head down the road.
“And she wonders why I drink,” muttered Bob. “Do you have a ladder in your pocket?”
Declan chuckled.
They had no trouble finding the inflatable witch. Fifteen feet tall with a green face and orange hair, she sat perched atop a modest double-wide modular home. There was no car in the driveway and the house looked dark and empty.
“There’re two papers in the driveway. I’m guessing they’re gone for the weekend,” said Declan as they approached. The sky had dimmed to dusk, which offered some cover from the neighbors’ prying eyes.
“Great. Now what?” said Bob.
Declan tilted to his left and peered behind the home. “There’s a porch in the back there… If I stand on the railing, I can hoist myself up and grab her. Then we can deflate her in the backyard and walk her home.”
Bob scoffed. “Better you than me.”
They made their way to the back porch. Declan climbed the railing and stood there, surveying the pitch of the roof. He put his hands on the asphalt shingles, did his best to avoid the gutter, and pulled himself onto the roof.
Staying low, he scrambled to the witch and found her tied with ropes threaded through eye screws embedded in the rafters. He scrambled back down to the roof’s edge.
“She’s tied. Do you have a knife with you?”
Bob sat in the homeowner’s patio chair and knitted his fingers across his chest. “While I usually like to be prepared for witch-nappings, seems I forgot to bring my witch-napping knife.”
Declan grimaced, crawled back to the witch, and began the slow task of picking free the knots. It took him nearly four minutes to undo the first and as he moved to the second, he heard Bob call up to him.
“Do you want a drink?”
“What?” Again he crawled to the edge of the roof and peered down. Bob stood on the porch holding aloft what looked like a bourbon on ice. “Where did you get that?”
“Porch door was open. He had a bottle of Knob Creek in there. Figured he wouldn’t mind. Made one for you.”
“Figured he wouldn’t mind if you drank his booze while I stole his witch?”
Bob shrugged.
Declan leaned down and took the glass. “I suppose I shouldn’t be sober for this.”
“Just don’t fall off the roof.”
He drank the low pour in two gulps, handed back the glass, and returned to work on the remaining three knots. He was about to start the third when he heard sirens in the distance and froze. He scurried to the edge of the roof again. Bob sat on a patio chair with the bottle of Knob Creek sitting on the glass table beside him.
“Are those sirens getting closer?” Declan asked.
“Sounds like it.”
“You think someone reported us?”
“Those ladies, more than likely.”
“Hm.”
“So you think they’re after the dogs, not us?”
Bob shrugged. “You want another?”
Declan stared at the empty glass of ice next to Bob’s pour. “Sure.”
Bob poured another and stood to deliver it. “You almost done?”
“One more. Whoever installed this was a knot-tying genius.”
Declan finished his drink and went back to work. Witch freed, he hauled her to the edge of the roof.
“Incoming!” he called and dropped her to the porch beside Bob.
He dropped to the railing and then hopped onto the porch.
“We should celebrate,” said Bob.
Declan looked at the witch and then back to Bob. He shrugged.
“I guess she’s not going anywhere.”
He sat as Bob freshened his drink.
“Howdy boys.”
Declan jumped at the sound of the voice. Sheriff Frank peered at him through the railings of the porch. He walked around and climbed the stairs to join them.
“Hey Frank, what brings you here?” asked Bob.
“On my way home and got a call about a break-in on Magnolia Court around the corner.”
“You don’t say.”
“As I was pulling up, I got another call about somebody on a roof over here.”
“Huh. This neighborhood is a mess.”
Frank nodded. “By then, my deputy had arrived at the other scene, so I thought I’d roll over here and check on things.”
“You want a drink?”
“I’m still in uniform.”
“So take it off.”
Frank chuckled and eye-balled the witch. “So let me guess. You’re stealing the witch? Darla thinks it’s hers?”
“I’m acting on Mariska’s orders.”
“Darla know about it?”
“I don’t think so. Darla was—” Bob stopped short. “Darla wasn’t around.”
“And you got sucked into helping?” Frank asked, looking at Declan.
He nodded.
“Well, I can tell you on good authority this isn’t Darla’s witch.”
Bob took a sip of his bourbon. “No?”
“No. I have Darla’s witch back in my office.”
“You do?”
Frank nodded. “Got sick of putting her on the roof.”
Bob laughed.
“That all being said, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to put this witch back on her roof.”
Both the older men looked at Declan and he sighed. “I guess that’s my cue.”
Frank unbuttoned his uniform and hung the shirt on the back of his chair. Standing in his undershirt, he pointed a finger at Declan’s glass. “Gimmee that.”
Bob freshened Declan’s glass for Frank while Declan climbed back on the roof and Frank handed him the witch.
As Declan threaded the witch’s ropes through the eyebolts and began to retie her, he heard Frank’s voice.
“Wait…where’d you get this whiskey?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlotte caught Darla and took the broken wooden box from her with one hand, while the other held her phone to her ear.
“It’s seen better days,” said Darla.
She nodded. “It’ll have to do.”
“I have a surprise coming for you,” said Mariska, putting her hand on Darla’s shoulder. Mariska winked at Charlotte.
Charlotte rolled her eyes as Declan’s phone rang a third time. Finally, he answered.
“Oh! I thought you’d never answer,” she said. “The police are on their way. You need to get out of there.”
“Frank’s already here,” said Declan.
“He is? Did you steal the witch?”
“I’m tying her back to the roof as we speak. He says it isn’t Darla’s.”
“It isn’t.”
“You knew?”
She nodded before realizing he couldn’t hear her nod. “Yes. But I wasn’t there to stop you.”
“Speaking of which, did you get the box? Are you okay?”
“Bit of a bump on my head, but I’m fine and I do have the box. I’m about to walk it over to Jackie.”
“Good. I’m going to stop by the store and then I’ll be home. I’ve got a new kid watching over the place and I want to be there to close up.”
“See you soon.”
She hung up and turned to Gloria who stood in her driveway, Abby’s leash still in hand.
“Gloria, I’m going to run this over to Jackie. I’ll be back.”
Gloria nodded. “That was exciting, wasn’t it?” Abby began to weave her way around Gloria’s legs and she tried to unwrap herself.
“Definitely. Here, I’ll take Abby with me.”
Gloria handed her the leash and waved before letting herself inside.
Charlotte pulled her black tee shirt from the plastic bag and wrapped it around the box to hide it, just in case the police came through the neighborhood looking for the mad poopers. She felt confident Diana would have noticed her box went missing, too. Her mother’s ashes strewn across her bedroom carpet were a dead giveaway.
No pun intended.
She put the plastic bag and the gloves in the trash. Getting caught with gloves might be more incriminating than being caught with the box itself.
Tired from her ordeal, she still walked at a good clip, eager to hand the box to Jackie and return home. Tomorrow they’d call Rocky and another case would be solved. She didn’t know what made the box special, but at this point, she wasn’t sure she cared. But maybe…maybe she’d linger with Jackie for a little while and they could look it over. She felt the side of the box shift beneath her hand and hoped Rock wasn’t too particular about the shape in which the box returned to him. At least she had the box.
Passing Gloria’s house she noticed the lights were on inside. The porch door hung at an awkward angle, but she chalked that up to Mac’s forceful entry during the fire.
Still…
A sporty older model red car sat parked in front of Gloria’s neighbor’s home. She suddenly had a bad feeling that the red car parked outside her own home wasn’t necessarily Stephanie’s. Not every time. What if someone had been spying on Gloria?
She stared at Gloria’s glowing windows and knew in her gut the car and the open porch door were not a coincidence. Inside the home, she thought she saw a flutter of movement in the lamplight, and felt her stomach roll with nerves.
Someone is inside.
Charlotte took a deep breath, unsure whether what she’d seen was movement or her imagination running wild. She tucked the box under her arm and approached Gloria’s house. Creeping onto the porch, she saw the inside door was also ajar. Mac had done some damage in his zeal, but Gloria told her he’d been kind enough to fix the door well enough that she could lock it in her absence. Granted, she’d only mentioned it as an excuse to gush about Mac’s pecs, but still…the door should have been locked.
She eased open the inner door far enough to peek inside. Abby poked her face in below her own and she took comfort in the terrier’s presence. The Wheaten could be very protective, sometimes embarrassingly so.
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide with wonder at the scene inside Gloria’s home. Drywall lay in piles, pieces strewn about the floor, dust covering furniture and rugs. Between wall joists and ceiling rafters lay only ruin, ragged holes replacing once seamless white paint. The floor was torn in strips, as if a giant gopher had run tunnels through the house. The skeleton of what was once the kitchen island sat in the middle of the room gutted of every pot and pan.
From the extensive damage, she could only guess someone had been furrowing for the copper pipes or that a gaggle of teens had vandalized the house, causing as much damage as possible. Maybe this was where the Rutter boys were hiding in plain sight. The desolation far exceeded any smash and grab robbery of convenience. Whoever was in the house was angry. It had to be the boys, but still…maybe…
Protecting Gloria might be beyond my pay grade.
Time to call in the cavalry; not only to investigate the damage to the house, but maybe to find Gloria a safer place to stay. If it wasn’t kids, it meant the person threatening her was spending enough time in the neighborhood to destroy her home. Surely, he or she would soon find Gloria at her home, just a few blocks away.
She thought about the red car parked outside, the car she’d seen outside her home. Maybe the person after Gloria already knew where she was hiding.
She leaned against the door frame and fished in her pocket for her phone to call Frank. She’d tapped one digit before Abby lunged forward, yanking her arm and causing the phone to clatter to the porch floor. She stood, hoping to find some leverage against Abby’s strong neck, but instead went stumbling into the kitchen. Dragged by one hand, she threw out her other, grasping for the edge of the island to break her fall. The box spun out from under her arm and skidded across the cluttered floor. She yelped as her elbow clipped the granite counter top and sent pins and needles through her arm.
The leash wrapped around her wrist jerked and she yanked back as Abby strained against it, barking in her lowest, most threatening tone.
“Abby!”
She pulled herself up and saw no one but Abby, barking at the end of her leash as she peered up the hallway. Charlotte’s mouth felt dry as she wondered what Abby saw around that corner.
Time to leave.
“Abby, no one’s here! Let’s go!” she said loudly, hoping that if someone was there, they would wait until she left to appear.
Then she could hide somewhere safe and call Frank.
She pulled the dog to her and shoved her onto the porch. She was about to follow when she realized she’d forgotten Jackie’s box.
“Wait there a second,” she said closing the door with her foot.
She took a few steps into the kitchen and retrieved the box. Turning back to the door, she felt a presence in the living room, just out of her field of vision. Startled, she paused for a second, but her stall was enough to alert the intruder that he’d been made.
“Put down that box.”
Charlotte turned to face the voice.
A man stood at the end of the hallway leading to the back bedrooms.
Abby had seen someone.
The man was large, bare-chested and muscular. Even covered in drywall dust, she recognized him.
Jason, the hunky fireman.
He seemed much less hunky now.
She wanted to believe he’d come to check for fire damage, but the hammer in his hand implied otherwise.
“You’re not a fireman,” she said.
“No.”
He stared at her, the smile so quick to jump to his handsome face the day of the fire nowhere to be found. Sweat beaded his forehead and he raised his arm to wipe his brow, raising the hammer as he did so. He only stood two paces from her. Should he choose to bring down that hammer, she’d be hard pressed to get out of the way in the tight, messy kitchen. Her body tingled with nerves.
“Well I’m sure you have your reasons. I’ll just be going—”
“Stay right there,” he said, pointing the hammer at her.
She put down the foot she’d been swinging toward the door.
“I guess that’s your car out front?”
He nodded.
“I saw it outside my house.”
“I was keeping an eye on that lady. Making sure she wasn’t back here.”
“So you pasted together her threat note? Set the fire? Blew up her mailbox?”
“I had to get her out of the house—” he paused and knit his brows. “Wait, blew up her mailbox? I didn’t blow up any mailbox. Is that what happened to that stump out there?”
Okay. We can officially chalk that up to the Rutter boys. Look at me solving Frank’s cases while being threatened by a hammer-wielding nutjob.
“What do you have against Gloria?”
“Who’s that?”
“The lady whose house you’re destroying. You’re the one threatening to kill her; shouldn’t you know?”
“If I was trying to kill her she’d be dead. Believe me…” He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Whether I meant to kill her or not.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“This was my grandmother’s house.”
“But…why destroy it now?”
“My dad left something with her and I think she forgot it. Or never knew where it was, exactly. I dunno. It’s here though. I know it.”
“Your dad…? You think he hid something in the walls?”
“A box. Probably full of money, he pulled a bank job not long before they caught him. They never found the money…” His gaze fell to the box in her hands. “Where’d you get that box? Did you find that here?”