Strangers in the Lane

by Virginia Rose Richter

  Mrs. Carlson, a stout woman who wore shapeless suits and her white hair in a tight perm, looked doubtful. “You must have it ready by tomorrow morning or take a lower grade.”

  “I’ll have it done by tomorrow, Mrs. Carlson,” Jessie said.

  When the bell rang, Jessie hurried out the school doors and walked to Tina’s house. As she closed the Adams’ gate, the front door opened and Tina stood waiting for Jessie to come up the sidewalk.

  The Adams’ living room was transformed into a nursery. Two bassinets and a changing table lined one wall. An overstuffed chair by the window was piled high with gifts, still in their bright wrappings. Mrs. Adams was in a robe on the sofa folding laundry. She smiled at Jessie. Dr. Adams was setting the dining room table for lunch. He invited Jessie to stay and eat.

  Tina looked happy. She led Jessie to the bassinets. Both babies were asleep.

  “Aren’t they adorable?” Tina smoothed the yellow blanket covering one of the babies. “And they’re so good.”

  “I knew they’d be cute.” Jessie leaned over and gazed at one baby and then the other. “They look so much alike. How do you tell them apart?”

  Tina lifted a tiny hand. “This is Victoria. We call her Tory. She has a red mark on her wrist. The other one’s Pam.”

  “I guess you like being a big sister, after all,” teased Jessie.

  “Oh—I love it!” She smoothed the dark fuzz on Pam’s head. “But I knew I would.”

  Jessie made an effort not to laugh. She zipped up her jacket. “I can’t stay. Thanks anyway for the lunch invitation, Dr. Adams. Bye, Mrs. Adams. The babies are beautiful!”

  As Tina opened the front door, Jessie said, “I’m going to Carol Marshall’s from here to talk to her about her robber nanny. Oh…I forgot. You don’t know the latest. My mom heard me on Phillip’s monitor when we were in Robyn’s bedroom.”

  Tina closed the door behind her and walked Jessie to the gate. “What else happened?”

  Jessie lifted the latch. “Bryce and I got a picture of the boyfriend the next morning and gave it to the police. I think they’re finally listening. Anyway, Detective Benson said he’d warn the Marshalls and have the police watch the jewelry store this afternoon.”

  “Wait a minute,” Tina said. A cool breeze was stirring and she hugged her arms to her chest. “How could all of this happen in just a day? I’m missing out on everything.”

  “Your mom needs you now. Take care of Pam and Tory!” She started down the street. “And wish me luck.”

  “Good luck!” Tina waved and ran inside out of the cold.

  Jessie looked at her watch. Twelve thirty. She could still make it to the Marshalls’ before Carol went to the jewelry store for the afternoon. She hurried to her house, put her backpack in the hallway and went through the kitchen door to the garage. She opened the garage door, got on her bike and rode down Willow Lane.

  In five minutes, Jessie was ringing the Marshalls’ doorbell. A short, plump woman wearing an apron over tight jeans and holding a broom in her hand answered the door. She wasn’t Carol Marshall and she wasn’t the nanny.

  “Yes?” said the broom woman.

  “Is Mrs. Marshall home?”

  “No,” said the woman.

  “Do you know how I can get a hold of her?” Jessie asked.

  “She’s working at the store today. It’s Thursday. That’s her day to work.” The woman started to close the door.

  “Wait…please. Is Lena here?” asked Jessie.

  The woman gave an angry shrug. “That Lena left this morning without a word. She’s gone for good, I hope. I got behind on my cleaning today because I had to watch the baby.”

  “But where is Robyn now?” asked Jessie. “Are you still taking care of her?”

  “Well, I had to get my work done, didn’t I?” the woman said. “So Mrs. Marshall took Robyn to the store with her.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jessie felt a chill and it wasn’t from the wind. “Is Mr. Marshall home?”

  The broom lady was getting impatient. She shifted her weight to the opposite hip and put her free hand on her waist. “No, he is not! He’s been in New York all week.” She started to close the door again. “I have things to do. Goodbye.”

  “Please…” Jessie begged. “May I use your phone—just for a minute?”

  The woman gave Jessie a long look and then said, “Okay, but just for a minute.” She pointed to a phone on a small table in the entry hall.

  Jessie pulled Detective Benson’s business card from her pocket and dialed the number.

  A man answered, “Fairfield Police.”

  Jessie tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Detective Benson, please.” Oh, please let him be there, she thought.

  “One minute,” said the man.

  Jessie steadied her hand by gripping the phone. Her scalp felt prickly from perspiration. She glanced at the broom lady, who was tapping her foot at the open door. He was taking forever.

  “Detective Benson here.”

  “This is Jessie Hanson. Did you reach Carol Marshall about this afternoon? She was careful about what she said since the broom lady was listening intently.

  “It’s taken care of. I didn’t speak with Mrs. Marshall, but I left a message for her to call me yesterday—right after you brought in that picture of the nanny’s boyfriend.”

  “Did she call you back?” asked Jessie.

  The phone was quiet. “No, I’ll try her again.” said the detective.

  Jessie felt sick. “Mrs. Marshall doesn’t know anything about this?” A trickle of sweat ran down her neck. “What shall I do?”

  “What time’s the robbery supposed to take place?”

  Jessie’s heart sunk. “Three o’clock. I’m at the Marshalls’ house now and the woman in charge here says that the nanny left suddenly this morning.”

  “There you go,” he said. “When the police called, the robbers probably got scared and left town.”

  “But Mrs. Marshall took her little girl to work with her because the nanny left and I’m really worried about them, Detective Benson.”

  “Why don’t you give her a call at the jewelry store right now?” he said. “I have to leave. There’s been an accident on O Street. I’ll be back in touch.” He hung up.

  Jessie fought back tears. “Do you know the telephone number at the jewelry store?” she asked the housekeeper.

  The woman flounced to a book by the phone, opened it and read off the number.

  Using a pencil on the phone table, Jessie wrote the number on the back of Detective Benson’s business card.

  When she dialed, the line was busy. Jessie hung up and headed for the door. “Thank you for the phone.” She raced down the steps and jumped on her bike. The door slammed behind her.

  She sped down the street. She could get to the jewelry store in ten minutes. She twisted her arm and glanced at her watch. Ten minutes of two. She had an hour before the robbery was supposed to happen.

  Jessie’s stomach felt hollow with fear. Why didn’t I tell Mrs. Marshall about the plot as soon as I knew? Carol would never have taken Robyn to work if she’d known.

  The bike dragged as if it were tied to an anchor. Overwhelmed, Jessie needed a minute to realize that she had a flat rear tire. She hit the brakes. The bicycle fell sideways and she jumped off to avoid falling with it. Grabbing the handlebars, she bumped the bike to the nearest yard and leaned it against a tree. Her watch said two o’clock.

  Jessie started to run—full speed—toward the Town Square. She tore off her jacket and tied the sleeves around her waist. The sun beat down. Perspiration trickled from her hair and down the sides of her face. Her thick braid bounced a rhythm on her back. Desperation gripped her. She wanted to cry, but held back the tears and saved her breath for running.

  When she dashed past Mr. Crowley, the mailman, he was puzzling over a letter in his hand. He raised his head as she whizzed by and said, “Jessie? Is something wrong?”

  She gave him
a thumbs-up and raced on. Save your breath, she told herself. Her chest burned with pain and her legs ached.

  Now she could see the Square. The big clock on the red brick courthouse said ten minutes after two. Slowing slightly, Jessie gulped in air. As she sprinted, she untied her jacket and tossed it under the branches of a spruce tree—out of sight.

  At the corner where the shops lined the street, Jessie stopped and leaned against a wall painted with large black letters spelling the words, ELM’S FEED STORE. The jewelry store was halfway down the block.

  Once she could breathe again, she turned onto the wide sidewalk that fronted the shops and strolled, trying to appear casual. Jessie felt a chill on her neck. Great, now I’m cold. She wished she hadn’t ditched her jacket.

  That’s when she saw them—the nanny and her boyfriend. They were sitting in a nice-looking gray car parked a few spaces from Marshall’s Jewelry.

  Without thinking, she started for the jewelry store. Suddenly she heard her dad’s words in her head. You learn from your mistake and next time you don’t repeat it. She wanted to run into the store and grab Carol and Robyn. Instead she slipped into the alcove of ROSIE’S CAFÉ next to the jewelry store, opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Why, hi there, Jessie,” said Mrs. Baker, the owner. She was tall, thin, sweet-faced and made the best pies in the county.

  “May I use your phone?” Jessie flipped her braid to her back and tried to remember the jewelry store telephone number. Detective Benson’s card was in her jacket pocket under the spruce tree. Darn.

  “Sure thing.” Mrs. Baker reached below the counter and set the phone in front of Jessie.

  “Do these stores have back doors?” Jessie asked Mrs. Baker.

  “Yes. To the alley,” the woman answered.

  Jessie dialed what she hoped was the number. It rang twice and then Carol Marshall answered, “Marshall’s Jewelry.”

  Jessie could hear Robyn chattering in the background.

  “Mrs. Marshall, this is Jessie Hanson. I’m next door at the café. Your nanny and a man are planning to rob your store today. Please get out of there.”

  “But, Jessie…how…?” Carol Marshall sputtered.

  “We heard them talking on our baby monitor. Please take Robyn and GO!” Jessie’s eyes filled with tears and sweat dotted her forehead. “The police know. They were supposed to call you yesterday. Leave by your back door and we’ll let you into the café at the alley entrance.”

  Mrs. Baker, eyes wide, hurried with Jessie to the rear door and unlocked it. A minute later, Carol and Robyn Marshall slipped through the kitchen door and into the warm café. Jessie felt giddy with relief. She took Robyn from Carol’s arms and Mrs. Baker relocked the door.

  “This is incredible!” Carol said. “Are you sure, Jessie?”

  “The pieces fit.” Jessie settled Robyn next to her in a rear booth that had a window with a view of the sidewalk in front. “Anyway, we can’t take chances.”

  “Well, Lena did leave in a huff today—without a real explanation.” Carol sat down in the booth. “I wasn’t unhappy about that. She could be stern and her boyfriend hung around too much. Oh, NO!”

  “Oh, NO!” copied Robyn.

  “I left the store unlocked!” said Carol.

  “Don’t worry,” Jessie said. “Now the thief will go inside and the police can catch him in the act.” Jessie pointed out the window to the Square. “Look, that’s Detective Benson sitting on the park bench.”

  Mrs. Baker reached for her glasses on the chain around her neck and slipped them on. “Which one?”

  “The one reading the newspaper,” Jessie said.

  “Why he hasn’t got a uniform on,” Mrs. Baker exclaimed.

  “No,” said Jessie. “He’s plain-clothes. And see—up at the end of the block? Two policemen coming out of the drugstore on the corner?”

  Jessie glanced at her watch. It was two forty-five. “And check out the gray car three spaces down, Mrs. Marshall.”

  “You’re right, Jessie!” Carol Marshall half-stood to get a better look. “That’s my nanny!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “My stars! Such excitement!” Mrs. Baker set a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table.

  Jessie watched out the window and saw a man emerge from the gray nanny-car parked at the curb. He was dressed like a businessman with a suit, tie and dark overcoat. He carried a briefcase and looked like someone who could afford expensive jewelry.

  “You know him, don’t you, Mrs. Marshall?” Jessie handed a cookie to Robyn. “I’ve seen him with your nanny. In fact, I took a picture of him and gave it to the police.”

  “Yes, I know him. He’s her boyfriend.” Carol Marshall reached for a napkin and wiped Robyn’s mouth. “Sometimes he does jobs around the house. But I’ve never seen him dressed like that. He usually wears jeans.”

  The man walked casually to the jewelry store entrance and disappeared from Jessie’s view. “Where is everyone?” Jessie squeezed past Robyn and stood by the booth. “Everything looks too quiet out there.”

  All at once, police came from every direction. Two stood by the front of the store. One hurried to the gray car and Jessie even spied a blue uniform on the high courthouse roof across the street.

  “I wonder…” Jessie ran to the café’s kitchen door and peeked through the curtains at the window. A police officer stood in the alley, gun drawn.

  Jessie hurried back to the booth and watched through the window. Her scalp tingled with excitement. Moments passed. No one moved. She felt dizzy from holding her breath.

  The nanny’s boyfriend appeared again.

  “Stop!” ordered one of the policemen. He pulled out a gun. “Set down the briefcase and put your hands in the air.”

  The robber dropped the case and raised his hands. Jessie could see his face clearly. He was smiling a kind of sneering smile and didn’t look at all afraid.

  An officer stepped forward and ran his hands up and down Lena’s boyfriend. He pulled a small, black gun from inside the man’s dark overcoat. The policeman pocketed the weapon and said, “Put your hands behind your back.” Then he snapped on handcuffs.

  Jessie decided it was safe to leave the café. She opened the door and stepped out in time to see Lena jump from the gray car screaming and crying. Everyone looked at the nanny. While the police were distracted, the robber bolted. Jessie watched as he dodged two cars and crossed the street to the Town Square. When he ran by the nearest park bench, a man reading the newspaper stuck out his foot.

  The robber flew through the air and skidded on his stomach across the wet grass. Jessie smiled. Detective Benson put down the paper, rose and stood over the robber.

  “You creep,” the robber shouted at the detective. “You coulda killed me—tripping me like that!”

  The detective pulled the man to his feet and led him back across the street to Lena.

  By now, a crowd was gathering. Jessie spotted Bryce with a proud grin on his face. And there was her mom with Phillip.

  The nanny sobbed hysterically. She tried to grab her boyfriend’s arm, but he shrugged her off.

  Detective Benson shook Jessie’s hand. “Well, Jessie, you did it! In a few years you can join the force.”

  * * *

  On Saturday morning after the robbery, the Hansons’ doorbell rang. Jessie, dressed in a red sweater and jeans, ran to open it.

  “I’m ready to escort the town heroine to my practice session,” Bryce teased. He gave a little bow.

  Jessie laughed. “You helped too. I’ve told everyone that.” She closed the door behind her. “And Tina was there for part of the investigation.”

  “Well, I think that’s kind of you. But you’re the one who pulled it off,” Bryce said.

  “Thank you.” Jessie looked up at him. She couldn’t get over how good he always looked. Today he had on a soft green sweater that matched his gorgeous eyes.

  They hurried to the school and entered a side door that led to the audi
torium. Cami Falkenborg was already seated at the piano practicing scales.

  For the next two hours, Jessie watched in awe as Cami’s fingers flew over the keyboard. Bryce matched her on the violin. Each time Cami nodded, Jessie turned the page of her music. Jessie felt as if she’d entered a different world where beautiful sounds swirled around her.

  After the practice session, Bryce walked Jessie home. He took her hand and held it in a firm grip. “You’re sure quiet. What’re you thinking about? You were a great page turner.”

  Her hand warmed at his touch. But, she thought, being a page turner isn’t what I want. She looked into his eyes. She loved the way they went soft when he was serious or how they glistened when he laughed. She looked down at his hand holding hers and marveled that his hands could be so graceful when he played the violin. “I loved hearing the music. You play so well, Bryce.”

  They parted at her house. He watched while she ran up the steps and turned to wave at him. He waved back and then crossed the street.

  Inside, Jessie leaned against the door for a minute. Then she walked to the stairs and called up, “Mom, does the offer for piano lessons still stand?”

  THE END