Batter Off Dead

by MYERS, TAMAR

  “Except by you?”

  “I put two and two together. I learned to add in elementary school.”

  Now the ambulance attendant snickered. This time Sheriff Hughes was not amused.

  “And how was it that you deduced that it was Mrs. Schwartz—uh—the woman in custody—who ran over the young, exceptionally good-looking Elias Whitmore?”

  “I was working on the assumption that the second killer was also a member of our brotherhood. Then I remembered that Frankie Schwartzentruber’s father had been in the driveway construction business. It was a long shot, granted, but my papa was a dairyman, and I do know how to milk a cow. Anyway, that was my first clue. Then my daughter—well, she is only my pseudo-daughter at the moment, but that will all change shortly—said something provocative about folks protecting the ones they love, and that’s when I remembered I’d seen a photograph of Frankie with James Neufenbakker, and the two of them were looking like a pair of New Caledonian lovebirds. I don’t know if you’ve met James, but the man is held together by Band-Aids and a bad temper, my real point being that I was sure he took a variety of medications.” I paused to inhale some much-needed oxygen.

  “Miss Yoder,” the sheriff said, “don’t take this the wrong way, but my papa would have said that you couldn’t plot your way out of a paper bag if you had three pencils, a sharpener, and an eraser the size of your fist.”

  I emitted such long sigh that for a few seconds the poor EMT thought I had gone to meet my Maker. “My dear man, I suppose, then, when you hear that I was able to rescue Mrs. Schwartzentruber from the sinkhole by convincing Wanda Hemphopple to let down her long hair, you will find that part of my tale absolutely implausible. In that case, you will be nonplussed—now there is a word that is often used incorrectly—when the others corroborate my story. But just so we’re clear now, I had to promise Mrs. Hemphopple that a statue would be erected in her honor, and I do not intend to cover the costs by my lonesome. Capice? Murder is a capital offense, so I think the capitol should help out here.”

  The ambulance attendant chortled behind both hands.

  “What’s so funny?” the sheriff demanded.

  “Forgive me, sir, but this woman’s a hoot. And honestly, I don’t think she is delusional—but hey, she is a talker.”

  “She is that,” I agreed. But since we had just pulled into the emergency room unloading area, I shut my trap tighter than a clam at low tide.

  I left the hospital two hours later, in as good a shape as a teddy bear from the 1930s. That is to say, I’d left a good deal of my fur behind along the lip of the sinkhole, as Agnes and I maneuvered Wanda around in a circle like a human rope. Of course, Agnes was no better off. And as for poor Wanda—well, the intern who treated my abrasions said she was in for some severe headaches, and might temporarily even lose a bit of her bun. If we didn’t erect a suitable statue to honor her heroic sacrifice, I would have to give serious consideration to relocating somewhere far away. (I’ve heard that Boise, Idaho, has a small Mennonite community, and not a single authentic Pennsylvania Dutch bed-and-breakfast.)

  At any rate, we had just returned to the inn—and yes, the Babester was with me—when the phone rang. Caller ID gave the number as the FBI office in Cleveland, but one can always hope that it’s Drew Carey, can’t one? Although I’ve never seen his show, I’ve heard he’s a barrel of fun.

  “PennDutch,” I said with practiced mock cheer. “May we help you experience the pseudo-ethnic weekend of your dreams?”

  “In your dreams, sis.”

  “Susannah!”

  “Listen, Mags, I don’t have time to waste on your silly games. This is my one call.”

  “Then this is my two call,” I said agreeably.

  “You see what I mean?”

  “But I don’t. Please enlighten me.”

  “Thanks to you, I’ve been arrested for aiding and abetting an escaped murderer.”

  I swallowed hard. “They arrested you? They were supposed to arrest Melvin, for crying out loud.”

  “What the heck is going on?” the Babester demanded. The poor man was obviously distressed by my distress.

  “They did arrest my Mel-kins,” Susannah hissed, “but I’m the one who tried to help him get away. You had to have known this would happen.”

  I staggered to the nearest chair and plopped my patooty down before I collapsed on the floor. “You knew he was dressed up as one of your nuns?”

  “Mags,” she continued to hiss, “how stupid do you think I am? This whole Sisters of Perpetual Apathy thing was just a ruse to get him out of the state. You know how closely they’ve been watching traffic across the borders—all those so-called random safety checks.”

  “But he’s a killer! How could you help a killer?”

  “Because I love him, Magdalena, that’s why. I don’t expect you to understand this, and why should you? You’re beautiful, you have a handsome husband, and now a baby, so just don’t give me any lectures, not when you have everything, and I have nothing!”

  “I don’t have—”

  “Can you listen long enough to help me? They’re about to make me get off the phone.”

  “Sure,” I said. My heart was pounding like a madman on a xylophone, and I felt like throwing up, even though I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

  “I need you to make me a promise—sight unseen.”

  “You know I can’t if it means breaking the law. And speaking of which, don’t you need a good attorney?”

  “Forget the attorney!” she screamed.

  “Yes, dear,” I said quietly. “If it’s legal, and not a sin, then I promise.”

  “You swear on the graves of our parents?”

  “I can’t take an oath like that; but yes, I’ll keep my word.”

  She sighed so deeply, I could almost feel the breeze come through the receiver. “Congratulations, Mags, you are now the proud owner of a purebred Russian toy terrier.”

  “What?”

  “Well, someone needs to take care of Shnookums,” she said before hanging up.

  Almost immediately the phone rang again. This time it was an FBI agent informing me that I had five days to hie my heinie up to Cleveland to retrieve the repugnant rat in dog’s clothing, or he’d go to canine heaven.

  I was still in shock when the phone rang a third time. I let Gabe field that call whilst I fed his offspring a much-clamored-for meal. When my husband came into the bedroom to share what had transpired, he seemed more perplexed than anything else.

  “I can’t believe I said yes, hon.”

  “Ah, but I was a very persuasive bride-to-be.”

  “I’m afraid this is no laughing matter. Those so-called nuns—the ones who were taken in by your sister—they’re quite serious; they want to continue being Sisters of Perpetual Apathy—in a phlegmatic sort of way, of course.”

  “How delightfully uninspiring.”

  “Some of them, unfortunately, don’t have much choice, having burned their bridges behind them when they left Hernia.”

  “At least their new philosophy finds them without regrets.”

  “So I was thinking, since I’m moving back in here, why don’t I offer to let them stay across the road in my house? That can be sort of like a—what do you call it, a covenant?”

  “A convent, perhaps? A very inconvenient convent.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Tell me, was this Ida’s idea?”

  “Uh—she may have helped clarify a few things, but it’s definitely not her idea.”

  “I see.”

  “Seriously, hon, think of the advantages. In her new role as head nun, she’ll be so busy taking care of the sisters that she won’t have a second to spend interfering in our lives, yet she’ll be close enough for us to keep an eye on.”

  “What do you mean, head nun?”

  “Oh, that. Well, with Susannah no longer in charge of the group, Ma stepped into the power vacuum and has given herself a new name. From now on, she i
s to be known as Mother Malaise.”

  “Oy vey,” I said.

  There were huge challenges to be faced in the months and years ahead, but I was still a very blessed woman. The Babester was finally all mine, and we had our precious son to raise together, and in just a short time Alison would become our legal daughter. As for the challenges: Mother Malaise would be living just across the road, and my only sibling was headed for a criminal trial and a possible stint in the state pen.

  And although I intended to keep my promise to Susannah, there was no way, José, that I was going to carry that mangy mutt around in my bra. Shnookums was going to have to learn how to walk. Perhaps Alison could teach him. Lately she’d been hinting that she’d like a cat or dog. She’d said nothing about keeping a rat as a pet, but . . .

  I smiled. At least for the moment, the blessings outweighed the challenges.