The Crime Club

by Melodie Campbell

  “Eh?”

  “It would have been in the 1970s.”

  The lines on Vern’s face deepened. “Yeah. Young skinny guy with the long hair and big mustache? Used to do odd jobs, I remember.”

  “That’s the one. I was still in school then. But I remember people talking about how he disappeared one day.”

  “We all thought he just left for Toronto. You’re thinking the body in the backyard could be him?” Vern said.

  “Possibly. But I have no idea why someone would kill him.”

  “Was he hanging around any of the highschool girls?” I asked. “A draft dodger wouldn’t be very popular with the fathers in this town.” No steady job. And a deserter, according to some.

  “That’s a fair point,” Vern said.

  “Aunt Stella?” I prodded.

  She seemed deep in thought. “I was thinking about what Penny said. Maybe the draft dodger got a young girl pregnant. It happened a lot.”

  “Surely the pill was available,” I said.

  “Yes, it had been around for at least a decade, but you still had to visit a doctor to get it. And a lot of doctors wouldn’t prescribe the pill to unmarried women, let alone to young girls. They certainly wouldn’t do it without telling their parents.”

  “That’s harsh,” I said.

  Aunt Stella shrugged. “It was a different time. A time none of us would want to go back to.”

  Vern grunted. “What do you have to do to get a drink around here?”

  “Have a coffee, Vern. I just made a pot,” said Aunt Stella.

  “You’re no fun, woman,” muttered Vern.

  I smothered a giggle. Some couples are married before they’re married.

  Vern left after dinner. I went upstairs to check my Drafts folder. Nothing from Dad yet. I texted Tara to confirm our trip the next day. Tonight I’d spend some quiet time with Ollie.

  The cops still had the backyard cordoned off. That meant we couldn’t open the pub for business yet. This was fine with Aunt Stella. Tonight was book club, and she often had to miss it.

  “You should join us, Penny,” she told me. “Meet some more neighbors.”

  “You just finished saying they were nasty,” I said.

  “Only when they have to read CanLit,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning I packed Ollie’s small travel bag. Two bottles of water, bowl, puppy snacks and bandanna. I stuck a few of my own things in there as well, so I wouldn’t have to take a purse. Then I went downstairs, where I found Stella already at the coffeemaker. Coffee, fresh bread, bacon…my nose was in heaven.

  “Tara here yet?” I asked. I slung the bag on a chair.

  Stella handed me a mug. “Not yet. You would have heard her.” She reached down to scratch Ollie. “He’s already been out for pee and had his breakfast.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Stella. You’re spoiling this ol’ guy here.” I watched as she offered him another slice of bacon.

  Ollie stopped begging. He stood still with his head cocked to one side. With a leap, he took off to the back door. Sure enough, within seconds I heard the unmistakable vroom of Tara’s bike. Then the characteristic putt-putt as she shut it off.

  I quickly finished off my breakfast and slurped back my coffee. Then I grabbed my jacket from the hook and the travel bag.

  “Bye!” I called out to my aunt. The door clicked shut behind me.

  Tara was heading down the walkway already. The dogs danced around each other.

  “Wolfgang’s in fine form today,” she said. “Ate a sock for breakfast. I expect it will show up in an hour or two.”

  I scanned the parking lot for a car. No car.

  “So how do we do this?” I said. “Take a bus?” Did they even have buses from here to Hamilton? Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen any buses in Mudville.

  “Of course not,” said Tara. “We’ll take the bike.”

  The bike? I looked over at Tara’s motorcycle as we exited the yard. It was pretty old. I’d never ridden in a sidecar before. The dogs would be disappointed, of course.

  “I’ll put the dogs back in the Dilly,” I said.

  “No need,” said Tara. “They can ride in the sidecar.”

  “With me?” I squeaked.

  “Don’t be silly, Penny. There wouldn’t be room. The dogs get the sidecar. You can ride on the back with me.”

  Two dogs, two people—one bike. This would be an adventure you didn’t get every day in New York.

  I took Ollie’s bandanna out of the travel bag and fastened it around his neck.

  “Wolfgang, I think you better let Ollie in first.” Tara reached down to pick up her dog. “Penny, you get Ollie in there. I’ll hold the little guy.”

  I stared at my huge dog, and I stared at the sidecar. How did one get Ollie-size canines into sidecars?

  We tried a few ways. First, I got into the sidecar to show him how it was done. He got in, too, before I could get out. Which meant I had to push him off me before I could get out, and then we were both on the outside again. This was a great game. Ollie loved it.

  “Can you lift him in?” said Tara.

  Lifting wasn’t a good option. A hundred pounds of wriggling, squirming mutt is not easy for one human back to handle.

  So I tried option two. Outsmart the critter.

  Simple, really. I needed to convince him this was another game. So I pretended I was about to get into the sidebar. He leaped in before me, therefore winning the game.

  Both of us were happy. Tara deposited the pug between Ollie’s front legs, and all was cool. I tucked Ollie’s bag in behind him.

  “Wolfgang won’t be able to wear his helmet,” said Tara. “It might hurt Ollie if we stopped suddenly. But I have one for you.” Tara unstrapped a second helmet from the back.

  Tara put hers on. I did the same. She climbed aboard, and I slipped on behind her. I put my arms around her waist and looked anxiously over at the dogs beside me. No need for worry. Ollie wasn’t trying to get out. If Wolfgang was happy to stay put, Ollie would do the same.

  A few minutes later, we were whipping along River Road, heading north. Mudville was an hour from Hamilton if there was no traffic. We would likely get there in half that time. Tara’s bike apparently had only one gear—warp speed.

  This seemed to suit the dogs just fine. Me? I was practically giving Tara the Heimlich maneuver just to stay on the back. I was also pretty sure I’d swallowed a bug.

  A 4×4 pickup came at us from the other lane and honked. Tara raised her right arm in a jaunty salute, and the bike sashayed wildly.

  “Hands on the bike!” I hollered. My words got lost in the wind.

  We turned from River Road onto a country lane. With no traffic to worry about, I felt my heartbeat return to normal. The rural scenery was quite pretty. We passed a horse racetrack and some mighty rich-looking stable properties.

  That’s when it happened. We saw a police car pulled over on the side of the road. Too late. We whizzed by it far too fast. Crap! Sure enough, a siren split the air almost immediately.

  The cop car shot up behind us. Tara slowed down, pulled over to the side and switched off the bike. All of us looked in the direction of the person exiting the black-and-white vehicle behind us.

  It was a male officer. About average height. It didn’t take him long to cover the distance between his car and Tara’s bike.

  Holy shit! I recognized him. He was the young cop who had stood guard at the gate the day before when the csi people were doing their thing with Harry. Would he recognize me? Think, Penny! He hadn’t been there when the first officers had arrived. I was pretty sure I hadn’t gone outside after Bob had shooed me indoors.

  The good-looking cop stared at us. Tara raised her visor.

  “Tara Stevens,” he said.

  “Hey, Randy,” said Tara. “I mean, sir.”

  “You have a dog in your sidecar. At first I thought it was a bear. But now I can see that it’s a dog. I think.”


  Wolfgang decided to commence barking at this point. He didn’t like to be overlooked.

  “Okay, there are two dogs in your sidecar.” The cop scratched his forehead.

  “And no bears,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Tara sat more upright. “We’re on our way to Hamilton. Sorry if we were speeding, but the dogs like it. The wind in their faces. I’ll slow down.”

  “I’m pretty sure dogs shouldn’t be riding in sidecars,” said the cop.

  “Why not? Are there laws against it?” Tara asked.

  He looked blank.

  “I didn’t think so,” said Tara. “So there also wouldn’t be rules about two dogs riding in sidecars,” she added.

  “Besides, Ollie is a therapy dog. See?” I pointed to his bandanna. “He goes with me everywhere.”

  “And Wolfgang is therapy for the therapy dog,” Tara added. “It’s stressful work for a pooch.”

  The cop just stared at us. He shook his head. For a moment I thought he was going to say something, but he just flung both his arms in the air. I’m not sure if he was waving us on or simply flailing at the heavens.

  When he walked away, Tara said, “I didn’t know Ollie was a therapy dog.”

  I didn’t want to get into it. So all I said was, “Therapy dogs are allowed everywhere. Mom figured it would be a way to keep him by my side at all times. Hence the bandanna.”

  “No questions asked, with a bandanna,” said Tara. “Clever. What does it actually say?”

  “St. Lawdog Therapy Dog.” I pointed to the cute badge on the fabric.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. Look it up. It’s a real saint. There are four churches named after him in Wales.”

  “Wales, huh? Now I simply have to go there.” She started the bike, and we were on our way again.

  Chapter Ten

  Half an hour later we were standing on the wooden porch of an old house in the heart of Hamilton. Shabby chic can be a thing in New York. This wasn’t that.

  Tara pressed the ancient doorbell. Nothing happened. She gave a tentative knock on the door.

  “That’s not the way you do it,” I said, making a fist. I showed her the New York way. We didn’t have to wait long.

  A young woman with light-brown hair opened the door. She wore blue jeans and a ratty gray tunic sweater. My heart sank. She was much too young to be our Sally.

  The woman frowned slightly and said, “We’re Catholic.”

  I stifled a laugh. Of course. Two teenage girls calling on a summer morning—who else could we be? Except we weren’t exactly well dressed. And I was pretty sure religious types didn’t canvas on motorcycles. Or come with dogs.

  Tara jumped in quickly. “Oh, we’re not selling religion. We’re actually looking for someone we think might live here. Sally Hooke?”

  I saw some strong emotion cross the woman’s face. Then sadness. “You’re a little late,” she said. “The memorial service was in April.”

  Ten minutes later, we were talking like old friends. The woman had invited us in, and now the three of us sat around an old table in the shabby kitchen. The chairs wobbled when you moved. I looked around. Faded white cabinets. Someone had tried hard to get the worn vinyl floor to shine.

  Luckily, Sheena Hooke—not Sally—loved dogs. Ollie and Wolfgang, who had been welcomed in even before we were, had set off to explore the inside of the house. Sheena poured coffee into three well-used mugs, then handed ours to us.

  “So Sally left you this place. Nice,” said Tara. She sipped coffee from a mug that said Nurses Do It with Care.

  “I was her only niece,” said Sheena. “She didn’t have any kids of her own, but I guess you’d know that. Who is this guy she was supposed to have run off with?”

  “Earl Offerson. They left Mudville about twenty years ago. He’s the one we’re trying to locate, actually. We were hoping Sally might have an idea where we could find him.”

  Sheena shook her head. “Sorry. Never heard of him. But I was only a little kid back then. If they ran off together, they must have split up soon after. And if the guy was married, I can understand why the family didn’t talk about it.” She put down her mug. “Still, it surprises me. Aunt Sally didn’t seem the type.”

  “What do you mean?” I said. I had only been listening up until now.

  Sheena shrugged. “I can’t imagine Aunt Sally running off with this guy. She never cared much about having a man around. I always figured that’s why she was so keen on me being able to support myself.”

  Interesting. I tucked that one away in my memory for later.

  “Aunt Sally helped me through nursing school,” Sheena continued. She sipped from her mug. “She invited me to live here while I was going to college, and I just stayed on. Suited us both, you know?”

  I nodded. No wonder she had inherited the house.

  “I’m sorry she died,” said Tara.

  “I miss her,” Sheena said simply.

  “Just a minute. What is that noise?” said Tara, looking around.

  Gak, sputter, sputter, phhhppptt.

  Wolfgang trotted in, gagged, then deposited something on the floor.

  We all looked down at a well-slimed something that might have been pink at one time.

  “Well, look at that. It was a pair of undies, not a sock,” said Tara. “Bad dog.”

  Tara dropped Ollie and me off at the pub shortly after three. Ollie ran to the kitchen to beg for treats. I gave a wave to Aunt Stella, then dashed upstairs for a shower. Riding a motorcycle is fun, but those helmets are hell on hair. Tara didn’t seem to care, but I did. My hair is my best feature. Flat is not a good look for me.

  I spent some time blow-drying my hair. Then I got dressed in clean clothes. As I was putting on earrings, my phone pinged. A text from Brent.

  Meet me in the pub parking lot now?

  My heart did a happy dance. He was here! And he wanted to see me. I rushed to the back door and flung it open.

  Brent was standing just beyond the gate. I could see him looking my way. He wasn’t smiling. That should have warned me. But I was so happy to see him, I didn’t think. I hurried down the walkway to meet him. He opened the gate before I got to it. In his right hand was Ollie’s bag. He handed it over to me.

  “You left this in the sidecar,” Brent said. “Tara had to go to work, so I said I’d deliver it.”

  I stared at the bag in my hand. It was hard to breathe. I looked up into his face to see if I was right. He was frowning.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t open someone else’s bag. But I had this stupid idea of putting a surprise in it for you.” With his right hand, he pulled a long chocolate bar out of his jacket pocket. “Simon said you like peanut-butter cups. So I stopped at the mini-mart after my shift. It was supposed to be a nice surprise. You’d open the bag sometime later and find them.” He paused. “But I was the one who got the surprise.”

  I gulped.

  His eyes never left mine. “Why is there a gun in your bag?” he asked.

  I suppose I stood with my mouth open for several seconds. What could I say? If I told him the truth, he might turn away. Never want to see me again. But if I lied, and he later found out…

  It wouldn’t be any better. It would be worse.

  So I gambled. And told him the truth.

  “My dad gave it to me. For protection,” I said. My heart continued to pound.

  His eyes went wide. “Protection? From what?”

  I hesitated.

  “Does this have something to do with why he’s in prison?” Brent asked.

  I nodded.

  He placed his hand on my arm. “Let’s get in the car. We can talk there.”

  He guided me to the passenger side and opened the door. When I got in, he closed it. Then he went around to his side. The car felt like a cage around me. I wanted to cry. But I didn’t.

  “You better tell me,” he said gruffly.

  “It’s not that easy,” I said. Nothing is easy a
nymore.

  “You can trust me,” he said. “I can keep a secret. But what the hell, Penny? Tell me why you’re sixteen years old and your dad gave you a gun.”

  “I don’t know where to start,” I said. I fidgeted on the seat.

  “Then start with why you moved here,” said Brent, looking directly at me. “What’s really going on? Why is your dad in prison?”

  I sucked in a breath and said it. “For murder.”

  I’d never said those words out loud before. My throat felt like I had swallowed ashes.

  There was a long pause.

  “Shit,” said Brent.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Why?” asked Brent. “Why did he do it? I’m assuming he really did do it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. It was the truth. I almost relaxed. It was such a relief to stop hiding everything.

  “You don’t know if he really did it? Or you don’t know why he did it?”

  “Both,” I said. “Okay, he pled guilty. I think he probably did it. Mainly because Mom doesn’t question it. But I don’t know why. No one will tell me.” I took a breath. “They say it’s for my own protection.”

  “Shit. That’s heavy.” Brent leaned his left arm on the wheel. “Sounds for real. Probably it’s best you don’t know then.”

  Best, maybe. I knew Dad had connections to the mob. No one ever went into details. If you asked, you got shut down.

  “Do you know how to use it?” Brent asked finally.

  “Yes. And how to take care of it.” I didn’t know how much I wanted to tell him. Dad had given it to me on my thirteenth birthday. He’d taught me how to use it. We’d practiced at a family farm near Cape Cod. I was a pretty good shot. He had been proud of me. At the time, I hadn’t questioned why he thought I might need to know how to shoot a gun. I just saw it as a cool thing to do.

  There were obviously things he hadn’t told me. Things that had led to his arrest.

  “We’ll keep you safe,” Brent said firmly.

  I turned my head in surprise. His expression made me smile. He looked so determined.

  “No, really,” he said, gazing fiercely into my eyes. “We’re a team, right? You, me, Tara and Simon. Teams protect each other. That’s what they do.”