1 Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun

by Lois Winston

  He yelped.

  One of these days she's going to love that dog to death with those Arnold Schwarzenegger arms of hers. I was too tired to argue about the carrier. I grabbed Ralph's cage in one hand and the empty dog carrier in the other. "Fine. Make sure he stays on your lap."

  "Wait a minute," said Mama. "If that beast doesn't have to go in a carrier, why should Catherine the Great suffer? She has claustrophobia, you know."

  Since when do cats suffer from claustrophobia? "Mama, it's only a fifteen-minute drive."

  "She won't know that. Look at her. She's far more traumatized than that..." She pointed to Mephisto. "... that mutt."

  Frankly, neither Mephisto nor Catherine the Great appeared anything close to traumatized. They both looked like they'd spent the night at The Golden Door Spa. "Fine, but it's up to the two of you to keep them separated and contained in the back seat. The last thing I need is a dog and cat fight while I'm driving."

  "Stand, stand and fight!" squawked Ralph. "Cymbeline, Act Five, Scene Two."

  Another county heard from. I raised his cage until we were eyeto-eye. "Don't you dare egg them on."

  As it turned out, Mephisto and Catherine the Great behaved fairly well throughout the ride home. They only occasionally growled and hissed at each other. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Mama and Lucille. They squabbled and bickered non-stop.

  Shades of he-touched-me/did-not/did-too arguments between a five-year-old and his seven-year-old brother flashed before my eyes. In retrospect, I think Nick and Alex were better behaved on their worst day than their grandmothers at their best. Relief surged through me as I turned the Hyundai onto our street.

  Until I pulled into my driveway.

  "OMIGOD!" I STARED AT the moving van parked in my driveway. "It's Saturday." The day Zachary Barnes was moving into the apartment above the garage. The apartment I still hadn't gotten around to emptying and cleaning.

  "What's going on now?" asked Mama. She unlocked her seatbelt and wedged her head, shoulders, and half of Catherine the Great between the two front bucket seats.

  "Move over. I can't see," said Lucille. She shoved Mama back and over to the side.

  Mama jabbed Lucille with her shoulder. "Get your commie pinko paws off me!"

  Annoyed by the jostling, Catherine the Great took a swipe at Mephisto. He bared his teeth and snapped at her. She jumped out of Mama's arms and bounded into the front passenger seat, landing on top of Ralph's cage. Ralph beat his wings against the wire mesh and let loose with a rapid-fire series of ear-piercing squawks.

  "Who's that man with the police?" Lucille yelled over the din as she pushed Mama aside and shoved her own torso between the bucket seats. "Why is there a moving van parked in the driveway?"

  My new tenant stood off to the side, clutching a cup of coffee. He appeared to be having an extremely animated conversation with the two cops who were supposed to be keeping an eye on my property.

  I maneuvered myself around Lucille and one by one, pried Catherine the Great's claws off the bars of Ralph's cage, trying my best to hold each freed paw to prevent her from reattaching herself.

  "He's renting the apartment above the garage," I told Lucille as I passed Mama's cat back to her.

  "The apartment that by rights should be mine," said Lucille, "considering the exorbitant rent you're charging me. Extortion. That's what it is. My son never would have let you get away with taking advantage of me like this."

  "Your son was the one who got my daughter into this mess," said Mama.

  "Lies," said Lucille. "Nothing but lies."

  I ignored her. When it came to Karl, Lucille lived in her own private world of delusion. She should only know he'd tried to kill her. And when that failed, how he stole her life's savings, killing three innocent people along the way.

  But as much as I itched to tell her, I wasn't that cruel. Let her keep believing in Saint Karl-if Bolsheviks could believe in saints. I wished I had the luxury of assuming my husband was the man I thought he was.

  "Oh, it's that handsome Zachary Barnes from the other night," said Mama, straining her neck for a better view. "If only I were a few years younger..."

  Lucille snorted.

  Mephisto growled.

  Catherine the Great yowled.

  Ralph continued to squawk.

  Zachary Barnes strode his angry Pierce Brosnan-George Clooney-Patrick Dempsey-Antonio Banderas good looks toward the driver's side of my car. The police followed close behind him. I exited the Hyundai to meet them.

  Lucille grunted her way out of the back seat and hobbled toward the house, her cane pounding the frozen earth with each labored step. As she passed us, Mephisto growled at the officers. Lucille glared at all three men but zeroed in on Zack. "Thiefl"

  The officers turned to Zack. "Well?" said one, as Lucille doddered past them.

  Zack opened his mouth to protest. "Look, I-"

  "Ignore them." Mama, embracing Catherine the Great, rounded the car to stand beside me. She gestured with a jut of her chin toward Lucille. "They're communists. You know how they are."

  All three men turned their heads to watch Lucille huff and puff her way up the back porch steps. "The dog, too?" asked one of the officers.

  "Of course," said Mama. "French bulldog, my patootie. That dog's as Russian as the Kremlin."

  I steered Mama toward the house. "Why don't you take Catherine the Great inside?"

  "You may need me, dear."

  About as much as I needed a migraine, sciatica, and a case of hemorrhoids all at once.

  The back door of the house slammed behind Lucille. Zack transferred his attention to me. "For someone who was so worried that I'd back out of our lease agreement, you sure provided a strange welcoming committee. I arrived to find you not home and some of Westfield's finest accusing me of criminal activity."

  I flinched. The man was one very unhappy camper this morning. But could I blame him? "We sort of had another incident last night."

  "So I figured."

  "And I sort of didn't get a chance to clean the apartment because of it."

  From inside the closed car, Ralph continued to squawk. Even though I'd placed the door of his cage against the seat back, he'd somehow managed to rotate the cage enough to pick the lock and escape. He loudly berated us from his perch on the steering wheel.

  The cops leaned forward and stared through the windshield. "I'll be damned," said the second officer. "A parrot!" He tapped on the windshield with his fingernail. "Polly want a cracker?"

  Ralph hopped onto the dash and pecked at him through the glass. If it's one thing my Shakespeare-pontificating parrot hates, it's being reminded he's only a parrot.

  Zack stepped closer to me, until our toes nearly touched. "Look, Anastasia, I don't care if you didn't get a chance to polish the doorknobs, okay? I just need to get my stuff into the apartment or the movers are going to dump it all in the driveway and take off."

  "Doorknob polishing? Believe me, doorknob polishing is so low on my list of priorities that you'd need a bulldozer to unearth it."

  Mama pushed me aside and stepped between us. "Now, Zachary dear, don't twist your knickers. You'll give yourself a stroke. Believe me, I know about these things. My late husband Seamus O'Keefe, bless his dearly departed soul, died of a cerebral aneurysm. You're far too young and handsome to follow in his footsteps. Not that Seamus wasn't handsome, mind you, but you never know if you're a ticking time bomb, as the doctors later told me-"

  "Mama, please go inside."

  "You know this man, Mrs. Pollack?" asked the officer who'd questioned Mephisto's political leanings.

  "Yes. He's renting the apartment above the garage." I turned to Zack. "I'm sorry for the chaos. Please come inside and warm up."

  Zack turned to the police. "You guys satisfied I'm not some serial killer?"

  "Just doing our job," said the officer. He grabbed his partner by the arm and headed down the driveway. "We'll be in the car if you need us, Mrs. Pollack."

&nb
sp; Zack called to the men sitting in the idling moving van. "You can start unloading the truck, fellas. I'll be out in a minute."

  "About time," said the driver.

  Before leading Zack into the house, I climbed back into the Hyundai and grabbed Ralph off the dashboard, tucking him under my coat to keep him warm.

  "Why the police surveillance?" asked Zack. "Exactly what happened?"

  "Long story."

  "Some awful man taped us up and stuffed us in the bathtub last night," said Mama. "And he nearly killed Catherine the Great."

  Zack looked at Mama as if she'd had one too many white Russians. "Catherine the Great died several hundred years ago," he said.

  "The cat," I told him. "That's her name. And the vet said that creep only fed the animals enough cold syrup to put them to sleep, Mama. Climb down from your drama queen podium."

  "Really, Anastasia!" She stroked her cheek against Catherine the Great's fur. "How would a deviant like that know how much cold medicine is too much? And why would he even care? He could have killed her. Poor sweet thing. And then to have to put up with that vicious Marxist mongrel trying to attack her. It's all been too much for her."

  "Marxist mongrel? I think I'm going to need a scorecard," said Zack.

  "He belongs to my mother-in-law. She's the one who called you a thief a minute ago. You didn't meet her the other night. She and the Demon Dog were off sulking in her room."

  "They're communists," said Mama.

  Zack gave her an odd look, but addressed me, "Speaking of thief, I take it your two-by-fours didn't do the job?"

  "That sneaky Pete rang the bell," said Mama. "When I opened the door, he stuck a huge gun in my face. Can you imagine?"

  "The bastard wiped us out," I said. "Down to our last jar of peanut butter and bag of cat food."

  We entered the house, and I released Ralph from the confines of my coat. He flew up to the curtain rod above the sink window.

  "I didn't noticed the parrot before," said Zack.

  "He was watching PBS in my bedroom. Ralph's a sucker for anything starring Helen Mirren. Reminds him of my Great-aunt Penelope."

  "He has free reign of the house?"

  "Not to worry," I assured him. "Ralph's housebroken"

  "You're kidding! Is that even possible?"

  "Ralph's a very unusual bird."

  "And show the world what the bird hath done," squawked Ralph, as if to prove my point. "As You Like It. Act Four, Scene One."

  "I'll be damned. A Shakespeare-quoting parrot. I'd say that qualifies as unusual."

  "That's one word for it," said Mama. "If that bird-brained Penelope Periwinkle had spent half as much time finding a husband as she did fawning over that damn bird, she wouldn't have died a dried-up old spinster."

  "Mama, I doubt Zachary is interested in your estimation of certain branches of our family tree"

  I filled the tea kettle and placed it on the stove. "I hope instant is okay. Along with just about everything else that wasn't nailed down, the thief helped himself to Mr. Coffee." At least Ricardo had spared the pots and pans. I guess he had no use for eighteen-yearold dented Farberware and chipped Pyrex.

  Nick and Alex barged into the kitchen. "Hey, Zack!" they both called out.

  "Why didn't you guys tell the cops outside that you know Mr. Barnes?" I asked. "You invite him into the house when he's a stranger and leave him at the mercy of the police once you know who he is? Am I the only person who thinks this makes absolutely no sense?"

  "Huh?" asked Alex.

  "What cops?" asked Nick.

  "The ones watching the house. They were about to arrest him."

  "Thought I was the burglar, come back to finish the job," said Zack.

  "What in the world have you been doing the past half hour?" I asked my sons.

  "Jeez, Mom, it's Saturday. We slept in."

  "Until Grandmother Lucille woke us up a few minutes ago when she came clomping down the hall," said Nick.

  "Sorry, Zack," said Alex. He rubbed the still-red skin around his mouth. "We didn't hear anyone knock. I guess getting bound and gagged with duct tape yesterday kind of wiped us out." "

  "I know what you mean," said Zack.

  "You do?" Both boys' eyes bugged out.

  I once stuck my camera where someone didn't want it. He had friends in low places."

  I wondered if Ricardo was one of those friends. However, since I hadn't told either the boys or Mama about my dealings with Ricardo, I slapped an imaginary strip of duct tape over my own mouth.

  "About the apartment," I said.

  "What's the problem? I told you not to worry about cleaning it. I can sweep up after the movers bring the furniture inside."

  "It's a little more than sweeping. Not enough hours in the day. I had planned to empty the apartment last night. Our intruder had other ideas."

  "The movers have another gig to pack up later this afternoon," said Zack. "If they don't have enough time to bring everything upstairs, they'll leave my stuff sitting in your driveway. How much time do you need?"

  "Thirty minutes. Forty tops," I assured him. Not that I had a clue how long it would really take. And when was I supposed to find the time to compile an inventory of all our missing possessions for the police and the insurance company? I needed those good hands guys to cut me a check ASAP.

  I glanced at Mama to see if she could tell I was lying. She answered with the slightest raise of an eyebrow, but I had fooled Zack Barnes, and that's all that mattered.

  I began issuing orders. "Alex, Nick, get dressed. You're on cleanup and hauling detail. Mama, you make Zack comfortable in the den."

  "I can do more than that," said Mama. "And the Bolshevik can get off her fat rump and help as well if she wants to maintain her standing in the Workers' Party."

  "Lucille can't climb more than a few steps, Mama." Besides, even if she could manage the stairs, Lucille would be more a hindrance than a help. I could do without her spewing forth a nonstop litany of complaints.

  "How convenient. Laziest worker I've ever seen."

  I ignored her, even though I agreed with her assessment of Lucille's work ethic.

  "That woman's all talk, no action," said Mama. "Give her something to do that won't require climbing stairs. She's not the Queen of Sheba. What about the laundry? The hampers are overflowing."

  "Hell, no," cried Alex. "The last time Mom asked Grandmother Lucille to do laundry, Nick and I wound up with pink underwear."

  "Deliberately, no doubt," said Mama. "Devious old pinko battle-ax."

  I turned to Zack and changed the subject. "I can offer you a selection of books and magazines while you wait. Unfortunately, you're out of luck if you want to watch TV or a movie."

  "Or listen to a CD or play a video game or use a computer," grumbled Nick.

  "He really cleaned you out," said Zack.

  "Right down to Catherine the Great's kitty litter," said Mama.

  "I'm not going to sit on my ass while you work," he said. "We'll get done that much faster if I help you."

  "Now that's what I call a worker's party," said Mama. "That prima donna pinko should take a lesson from you, Zachary dear."

  FOUR HOURS LATER MY studio had been moved from the apartment to the basement and Zack's furniture had been moved from the van into the apartment. It had taken Mama far less time to wrap Zack around her pinky, but then again, she'd already gotten a head start the other night.

  Mama had always gone for men her own age or older, but they had a bad habit of dying on her. Maybe she'd decided she'd have better luck with someone younger. Much younger. I decided I wasn't cruel enough to tell her Zack already knew she was in husband-hunting mode and wasn't interested.

  "If you're thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking," I told her after Zack offered to pick up pizzas for lunch-his treat, "you can forget it."

  "Whatever do you mean, dear?"

  "Don't feign innocence with me, Flora Sudberry Periwinkle Ramirez Scoffield Goldberg O'Keefe. I know what
you're up to, and I'm telling you right now, no way am I calling that man daddy."

  Although, if I weren't so recently widowed and burned by a drop-dead gorgeous man, I wouldn't be adverse to calling Zack Barnes a few other things.

  Mama fluttered her hand as if banishing my words into the stratosphere. "Honestly, Anastasia, I don't know where you'd get such a ridiculous notion. After all, my poor Seamus is hardly cold in his grave."

  As was Karl, but I was still having certain totally inappropriate thoughts in regards to my new tenant. But that was Karl's fault, not mine. I wasn't the one who had screwed my spouse and kids, leaving us at the mercy of the likes of Ricardo.

  Still, life would be simpler if I'd rented to a spinster piano teacher. Or a middle-aged gay couple.

  Even though Lucille hadn't assisted with any of the packing or moving, she arrived in the kitchen at precisely the same time Zack returned with the pizzas. She grabbed four slices of pepperoni for herself and fed the crusts to Mephisto. So much for the Devil Dog's delicate constitution.

  "Quite a zoo you have here," said Zack, scanning the kitchen.

  Mephisto sat beside Lucille's chair, awaiting another crust offering. Catherine the Great had curled up on top of the refrigerator, and Ralph kept an eye on everyone from his perch on the curtain rod above the sink window.

  "Hmm." I spoke around a slice of mushroom pizza. "Casa Pollack's very own version of Animal House."

  "How do you keep the cat, the dog, and the bird from killing each other? They don't seem to get along very well"

  "It's easier than keeping the grandmas from killing each other," muttered Alex out of the side of his mouth.

  Nick laughed so hard he snorted root beer through his nose.

  I scowled at both of them. "Apologize to your grandmothers"

  "Why?" asked Nick. "It's true."

  "They hate each other," Alex informed Zack-just in case he hadn't noticed this for himself.

  I continued to glare at my sons until they muttered an apology to Lucille and Mama. "Only Ralph is a permanent resident," I said to Zack. "Catherine the Great and Mephisto are here temporarily."

  "Manifesto!" said Lucille slamming her hand on the table. "His name is Manifesto."