by Nic Saint
“What’s all this?” grandma grumbled. “We ain’t gonna die?”
“Not today, Grandma,” Felicity commented. “Not today.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” asked Alice’s father. He balled his fist and shook it in the air. “Graffiti?! Damn kids!”
Marjorie, too, pursed her lips. As a card-carrying member of the Happy Bays Neighborhood Watch Committee, she took a firm line against any graffiti, especially when utilized to deface public property. “I think someone’s gonna pay for this,” was her stated opinion.
Alice, on the other hand, was relieved, and so was Reece, for he drew her into his arms again, and then the sounds of rain and grumbles from the anti-graffiti coalition were temporarily drowned out by his kiss.
Whatever else happened, Alice knew, she was in love again.
The chief watched grudgingly as that Hollywood hunk planted a wet one on his daughter. Then, as if the thing was infectious, Rick drew Felicity into his arms, and there was more kissing. And finally Pete Bell took Bianca in his arms, and hugged her close.
To his surprise he found Granny Bell staring at him expectantly, and he held up his left hand, where his wedding ring blinked provocatively. Her face fell, and she grumbled, “Excuses, excuses.”
Marjorie opened her arms and gave the old lady a hug. It wasn’t perhaps what she’d anticipated, but it was better than nothing.
From the corner of his eye Chief Whitehouse saw a figure getting into his car. He recognized him as Glenn Roke. It only took him a few moments to retrieve his service pistol from its holster, aim it at the man, and thunder, “Roke! You’re under arrest for defacing public property!”
The man, who’d been scrambling to get into his car, now seemed to think better of it, and held up his hands, a resigned look on his twisted face.
The chief grunted contentedly. He’d caught the culprit red-handed. He had half a mind to squeeze off a shot, graze the man’s person and make him feel his wrath, but suppressed the urge. No matter how much he hated these rogue environmentalists, he was still an officer of the law, and shouldn’t go all Dirty Harry on the culprit.
He let his gaze drift over the three couples by his side: Rick and Fee, Alice and the Hudson boy, and Pete and Bianca, and suddenly felt a pang of regret that his wife wasn’t here. He vowed to give her a big kiss the moment they were reunited. It was moments like these, the hardened cop thought grimly, that made you realize what was most important in this world: family.
Chapter 51
On the other side of the country Dorothy Valour was flipping channels. The news from Happy Bays had turned into a real obsession to the socialite, especially since her involuntary social media blackout. It had taken her team a full week to get her Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, WhatsApp, Snapchat and other sites back online, only to find that all content had been erased.
All of her selfies, thousands upon thousands of them, were gone, and so were her millions of followers, who had been miraculously deleted along with all of her profiles. And no matter how hard the team tried, they couldn’t salvage a single one of them. She was back to square one.
Dorothy had ranted and raged, cried and lamented, but the hacker they were up against had a lot more mojo than they had, and finally she had to accept defeat. Dorothy Valour, selfie queen of the world, had effectively been dethroned. It hadn’t taken her long, however, to spin the story to her advantage, and slowly she was regaining her followers, and the media coverage she’d grown accustomed to.
One person she never mentioned, however, was Reece Hudson. She’d forbidden her entourage ever to utter his name again, and refused to answer any questions by the media or fans alike about her former boyfriend and the latter’s new girlfriend. They were both dead to her.
Still, when she was alone she couldn’t resist tuning into the coverage of the disaster that had almost destroyed Happy Bays, and she was now watching a live feed from the Happy Bays courthouse where Judge Lockhart, a withered old fool, had just made the most outrageous request.
“You say that you are hairdressers, and claim that you broke into Mayor MacDonald’s house to finish a haircut you felt you’d botched—”
“Not botched, your honor,” countered Jerry, looking dapper in a three-piece suit. “We hadn’t been able to finish it to our satisfaction due to the fact that poor Moe was kidnapped.”
“So you claim you wanted to finish the job you started by breaking into the mayor’s house in the middle of the night.”
“That’s correct, your honor,” agreed Jerry obsequiously.
“Well, if this is so, then prove it,” challenged Judge Lockhart.
“Come again, Judge?” said Jerry, surprised.
“Prove it!” thundered the judge, and before Jerry and Johnny’s dumbfounded eyes, Moe was brought into court by Mayor MacDonald, and placed on the witness stand. He wasn’t sworn in, however, probably because his claws were too small to hold a Bible.
“W-w-what’s all this?” stammered Johnny, eyeing the parrot warily.
“Give Moe a haircut, and if I like what I see, I’ll believe your story. If not…” The judge didn’t finish his sentence, but it was obvious what he meant. It would be the end of the Pet Bandits. He gestured to a court assistant. “Give these men a pair of scissors.”
The requisite items were handed over, and Jerry and Johnny stared at Moe, scissors in hand, as they clearly had no clue how to proceed.
Then Johnny made the opening move. He twiddled his fingers at Moe. “Hello there, little friend. Remember me?”
The bird screeched loudly, and yelled, “Dumb-ass!”
Johnny’s face lit up, and he nudged Jerry. “He remembers me!”
His partner appeared less elated by this renewed acquaintance, and his next words attested to this. “You grab him, Johnny. I’ll cut him.”
Johnny made a dash for the bird, but Moe was quicker, and in a flurry of wings took flight before settling on the witness stand once more.
“So far I’m not impressed, Mr. Vale,” the judge said from his perch on the bench. Dorothy thought he looked a little like a parrot himself.
“We’re getting to the good part, Judge,” Jerry assured him. Then he snapped, “Get him, you fool! Not you, Judge.”
Johnny stole out a hand, but Moe deftly evaded him, cackling loudly. The bird seemed to be enjoying himself.
The mayor, now seated on the first pew, eyed the situation with less equanimity. “Judge Lockhart, I really don’t think—”
“This is my court, Ted, and I’ll decide what goes,” the judge snapped.
The mayor sank back, wringing his hands. He obviously wasn’t too happy to subject his beloved Moe to these two morons once again, especially since the judge had put scissors in their hands this time.
But he shouldn’t have worried, for the moment Johnny sprang forward, arms outstretched in an effort to nab the bird, Moe flew up, and launched a particularly nasty dropping on the big guy’s mug.
“My eyes!” howled Johnny, clawing at his face. “My eyes! I’m blind!”
“You’re not blind, you moron!” cried Jerry, scrambling to snatch Moe himself. “Get down here, you rotten bird!” he yelled when Moe flew up to the courtroom rafters. “I’ll get you for this! I’ll get you for this, you rotten piece of—”
“That’s quite enough from you, Mr. Vale!” thundered Judge Lockhart, using his gavel to bring order back to his court. “I think you have demonstrated beyond a reasonable doubt that you and Mr. Carew are, in actual fact, the so-called Pet Bandits!”
“We didn’t mean to harm the little fella!” cried Johnny, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “We just wanted the money!”
“Shut up, you fool!” hissed Jerry.
“We never hurt Moe! We treated him like a prince!”
“Moron!” squealed Jerry. “Not you, Judge. Not you.”
“I love animals!” Johnny continued. “I love ‘em all!”
“And I hate you!” hollered Jerry, now tak
ing the scissors and launching himself at his partner. Luckily a policeman was on hand to stop him from causing permanent damage.
“Order in my court! Order!”
Just then, Moe streaked down again, and landed on the mayor’s shoulder. He patted his cherished parrot lovingly. “Well done, buddy,” he muttered. “Well done.”
With a disgusted snort, Dorothy switched off the TV. This was worse than The Kardashians. Never again, she vowed, would she allow Happy Bays or any of its ludicrous citizens to enter her mind again. And never again would she allow her thoughts to drift to Reece Hudson or Alice Whitehouse. And that was the end of that.
Epilogue
Felicity placed the machine just so, then pushed the button. It hummed to life and started on its tour of the room. She stood back, and watched the Roomba suck in one dirty sock, then another. “So? What do you think?”
Alice eyed the machine critically. “A couple more socks and that thing will blow a gasket. I really don’t think it’s made for this, Fee.” Then, seeing her friend’s disappointment, she spirited a smile on her face, and added, “But it beats having to pick them up ourselves!”
Felicity grinned. “My idea exactly.”
Since Reece had moved back in he’d worked hard to change his ways, but from time to time still suffered a relapse. He clearly didn’t believe in the army credo never to leave a sock behind. To his credit he’d managed not to destroy any more of Rick’s CDs or DVDs and he’d even learned to carry his dirty dishes to the sink.
With love and patience Alice had almost managed to housebreak her man, which was a huge achievement in Felicity’s book. And for those rare moments he still left his socks unattended, Felicity had invested in the Roomba, which trolled the house and picked up the cadavers.
Since Rick was off on another assignment, this time in Dubai, and Reece was prepping Crunch Time 4 on location in Utah, they had the house to themselves, and Felicity plunked down on the couch, and joined Alice in watching the latest coverage of the stirring events that had rocked Happy Bays.
Glenn Roke had been arrested and would be tried for terrorism. Even though Adrian Calamus, the inside man he’d hired to do his dirty work, had set the charges, he’d balked at destroying Happy Bays just so Roke could wreak revenge on Ted MacDonald, and had opted to display a message of warning against the dangers of nuclear energy instead.
Nevertheless, since it had been Roke’s intention to nuke the place, he would be tried accordingly.
Peace had returned to Happy Bays, and the plant would get a proper inspection, as it turned out Mark Stokely was right after all: the plant was a disaster waiting to happen, the concrete structure well past the expiration date printed on the label.
Mark and Mabel were still enjoying their European cruise, but Mark had already been reinstated in his old job, Eve MacDonald had profusely apologized to Mabel, and the latter had accepted to return to her post upon her return from their European adventure.
All, in other words, was well in Happy Bays, and Felicity had even managed to finally prepare the muffins Granny Bell had so expertly sabotaged the first time, and her column was due to appear in the weekend edition of the Gazette, as was her feature article on the nuclear scare that had gripped the entire country.
“I think we should play this by ear,” she said as she nibbled the muffin. It was still pea green, but this time didn’t involve frequent visits to the bathroom.
“What do you mean?” asked Alice, resting back languidly.
“I think we should make sure Reece feels welcome, and then I’m sure he will do more of an effort to keep the place clean.”
“He’s cleaned up his act already,” she opined, now that she was back together with the man reluctant to accept criticism.
“I found one of his Crunch Time shirts stuffed behind the bed last night,” said Felicity. “No idea how it got there.”
“Maybe Gaston took it and ran with it?” Alice suggested.
As if sensing the conversation had turned to his favorite topic—himself—Gaston waddled up, stropped his back against the couch, and erupted into plaintive mewls. Felicity smiled, lifted the cat from the floor, and scratched him behind the ears. He hated to be picked up like this, and his mewls grew louder until she returned him to the carpet.
The big red cat caught sight of the Roomba, and tapped it tentatively with a paw, as if wanting to ascertain this was no enemy lurking on his terrain. Then, when the robot made an abrupt turn, the cat jumped a foot in the air, and eyed the thing narrowly, not certain if this was no new terror befalling Happy Bays.
“He’s doing his best,” said Alice, stealing a piece of muffin from her friend. “And if from time to time he relapses, we should remind him that he signed a contract.”
Before allowing Reece to move back in, Rick and Felicity and Alice had drawn up a contract stipulating some ‘house rules’ and Reece had signed it happily. Enforcing those rules, however, was a different matter altogether. But then Felicity had to admit the man was fun to live with. Whenever he was in town—for he still spent an inordinate amount of time in LA—he liked to organize movie nights, or take them all out to New York to catch a ball game, or got them premium tickets to Broadway shows and movie premieres.
No, living with a bona fide movie star definitely had its perks, Felicity had to admit. She pointed to the TV when a duo of familiar aspect came into view. “Hey, it’s Jerry and Johnny!”
She watched as the duo of parrotnappers were sentenced to three months of community service…at the local pet hairdresser’s salon.
Alice chuckled freely. “Whoever is crazy enough to have their pooch snipped by those two needs to have his head shrunk.”
Felicity could well imagine the kind of havoc the two might wreak on Happy Bays’s pet population. “Something for the committee to worry about, huh?”
“O, trust me, honey, we’re on it,” assured Alice.
Marjorie, Bettina, and Mabel would make sure those two didn’t put a foot wrong as long as they were guests of the small town. Which reminded her. “Have you heard from Virgil?”
Alice shook her head. Since the cop had sprung his surprise declaration of love he hadn’t been in touch. “Probably moping around at home, wondering why oh why he allowed himself to open his heart.”
“I never expected Virgil to have feelings for you, hon.”
“Me neither. Not since kindergarten at least. Did I tell you about that one time he made a drawing for me and handed it to Dad?”
Felicity looked up, surprised. “I did not. I didn’t even know Virgil was an artist.”
Alice snorted. “It was a bad rendition of a mushroom. Said it reminded him of me, and asked dad to give it a prominent place in the home.”
“And? Did you hang it over your bed?”
“I never saw it. Dad burned it. Said it was the stuff of nightmares.”
Both Felicity and Alice pondered this for a moment. Who would have thought that Virgil had such hidden depths? Then she shrugged. The policeman had obviously missed his window of opportunity, and even if Reece hadn’t been in the picture, she highly doubted whether a match between himself and Alice would even be feasible. Probably not.
She took another nibble from the green muffin, and hugged Gaston, who’d hopped onto the couch again. Soon they were joined by the five kittens they’d adopted a couple of weeks before.
She watched as Jerry and Johnny were led from court, and thought she hadn’t seen the last of those two. Nor did she mind. The cloistral peace of Happy Bays needed to be spiced up from time to time, and so did the Happy Bays Gazette, for whom she would gladly cover the Pet Bandits’ path to rehabilitation.
The Roomba made a whopping sound as it gobbled up another sock, and Felicity chuckled softly under her breath. Then she lay back against the couch cushions, and allowed her eyes to drift closed. Tomorrow was another day but for now she could really use a nap. Alice seemed to feel the same way, for within seconds twin sounds of snoring permeated the ro
om, quickly joined by Gaston’s soft snuffles.
Roomba emitted a gurgle, hiccuped, and died.
Reece’s socks had just taken the first inning.
Excerpt from A Twist of Wraith
Chapter One
“Who goes there?”
Alice, who’d been dozing, heaved her head from the desk where she’d smacked onto the latest Stephanie Plum. She cleared her throat, and repeated, a little louder this time, “Who goes there?”
The petite blonde felt silly, for she was pretty sure absolutely no one went there. This was a funeral parlor, after all, and if there was one thing about the dead she appreciated it was that they didn’t bother the living.
Still, something must have disturbed her slumber, and she now stretched and yawned cavernously. From time to time, Uncle Charlie would get it into his nut that thieves were threatening the empire he had built, and order his favorite niece—and employee—to pull an all-nighter.
She disliked these vigils intensely, for she enjoyed her beauty sleep as much as the next Whitehouse, and so instead of following Uncle Charlie’s orders and keeping a close eye on the entrance—front and back—she preferred to sleep the sleep of the dead instead. Until now.
She pricked up her ears when she heard the sound again. It was almost as if someone was shuffling down the corridor, and whimpering softly. Impossible, of course. The dead don’t shuffle down corridors, and who in his right mind would want to break into a funeral home?
Then she figured maybe someone was playing a prank on her, and she picked up the sturdy flashlight Uncle Charlie provided for these nocturnal vigils—he disfavored his niece’s tendency to switch on all the lights—and stood balancing on wobbly legs for a few moments. Not only she had fallen asleep, but her limbs as well.
Her face set, she stepped from the kitchen, flashlight held aloft.
It was probably nothing. At night even the smallest sounds appear amplified, she told herself.