“Let me check.” In seconds, she was back. “Yes. They’re on their way. Would you like me to remain on the line with you until they arrive?”
“No, I…” I stopped speaking when I heard pounding on the backdoor. “They’re here now. Thanks!” As I hung up the phone, I heard men’s voices as they stormed into the kitchen after Judy opened the door. Jesse and two of his men came rushing into the reading room.
“Everyone okay?” he asked. Carrie was wearing shorty pajamas and had her hair up in twisty bows. Jesse smiled.
“We’re fine,” Carrie replied, returning Jesse’s goofy smile with one of her own.
“No, we’re not!” Melody interrupted and whacked Carrie on the arm. “A man was looking in the window. Austin went after him, half-dressed.” All eyes were on me. Before I could say a word, a gunshot rang out from behind the house. The shot was followed by a cry.
“Austin!” I said and took off through the kitchen. I ran out the back door in my pajamas and a pair of black velvet slippers that slid on the wet grass. I regained my balance, kicked off the slippers, and ran barefoot. Marlowe was ahead of me and dashed through the small parking lot where a lamppost gave off a low light.
“Austin!” I yelled as loud as I could as I kept running across the greenspace toward the fence.
“Here!” he responded. “I could use a little help.” I heard another cry of pain as Jesse and his men blew past me as if I was standing still. By the time I caught up with them, two police officers were on my heels and the divas were closing fast.
The scene we encountered was a bizarre one. A gun lay on the ground in a pool of light as one of Jesse’s men held a flashlight on it. Austin was bleeding and Ben, in the hazmat suit, was examining Austin’s wound.
“Should you be doing that?” I asked. “What if you transfer something nasty from the slime pit to him?”
“I’m back on duty after a two-hour break.” He did a double-take when he realized who I was. “Wow, you’re gorgeous when you aren’t dressed head to toe in plastic bags. Why do you look familiar to me too?” I wasn’t sure what to say. Under the circumstances this didn’t seem to be the time or place to discuss my soap opera career.
“Never mind. Anyway, I’m fresh as a daisy since I just suited up and was heading to the tented area when that young man hanging on the fence almost knocked me down. He probably wasn’t sure where he was after Austin wrestled a gun away from the little fool. That could also explain how he chose an eight-foot, barbed-wire fence as his escape route.”
“It wasn’t this tall before or as sharp. Get me down,” the boy groused in a sulky voice. The plump freckle-faced teen was in quite a fix. When he’d tried to scale the fence, his clothes had become tangled on the barbed wire. I was thankful I’d declined the option to install razor wire when we’d redone the fence to improve security. That stuff can kill an intruder.
“As you said, Austin, nothing but a graze. I should be getting back to work now that you have help,” Ben said and took his leave with a few last words for the “little fool.”
“You picked the wrong night to sneak around here! Consider yourself fortunate that you didn’t get shot. These gentlemen don’t miss.” In the hazmat suit, Ben almost looked like a spaceman in the moonlight as he slowly made his way toward the tent in the woods. The kid on the fence didn’t say a word.
“David and I are going to try to lift you up and away from the fence while Marco, here, cuts the wire,” Jesse said, taking charge. “Don’t fight us, understand? If you do and we let you slip, something you value might get snipped. Got it?”
“Yes! Just get me down, please! Don’t let that guy in the pajamas kill me, okay?” Jesse tried not to laugh as he spoke.
“Who? Deputy U.S. Marshal Austin Jennings? He’s not going to kill you. He wants to put you in lock up with lots of big guys like me. That’s what happens when you shoot a police officer.”
“I didn’t know he was a police officer. I thought he was working with the Numbers Man.”
“Billie Dundee, is that you?” Judy asked.
“Yes, Judy. Please don’t let them kill me or put me in lockup.” Then he started to sob as his tough guy demeanor dissolved into those tears.
“Be quiet and hold still,” Jesse ordered in a softer tone. In two minutes, they’d cut him loose and had him on the ground. Pieces of his pants still hung on the fence, where Marco had cut them off below the knees to set him free. One of the police officers had run to his car parked in front of the house and returned with a first aid kit. He’d already cleaned and bandaged Austin’s arm and went to work on Billie. When he raised Billie’s shirt, we gasped at the dark, ugly bruises on his chest.
“How’d you get those?” The officer asked Billie as he examined him while a fellow officer bathed them both in light.
“Fell off my bike.” I didn’t see skinned knees or elbows like those I’d received when I fell off my bike or roller skates. There was another bruise just above the knee.
“You need to be more careful,” the officer warned as he dabbed at Billie’s scratches from the barbed wire.
“Ouch! That stings!” Billie bellowed. Marlowe had leaned in to get a closer look at what was going on. When Billie hollered, Marlowe turned around a leaped into my arms.
“Stop griping. Now that you’re a bigtime prowler armed with a gun, pain is going to be a way of life.” Then the officer turned to us.
“He’s going to need a tetanus shot if he hasn’t had one recently, but no stitches. Maybe some ice where he took it on the chin playing cop killer. Do you want us to take him to the station, charge him, and call his parents?”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Austin replied in an officious manner. “I believe we can let him off with a warning this time. Confiscate the weapon, though, and take it with you, please.”
“Thanks, Jesse, for coming to the rescue,” Austin said. “Can you post someone at the gate to let his parents in when they get here?”
“Will do,” he said. “I’ll see you all tomorrow—uh later today, I should say.”
“Judy, can you call Billie’s parents?” Austin asked.
“You bet I can,” she replied, although she didn’t look happy about it. “Jim, let’s get him up on his feet so we can all go indoors and get them on the phone.” Austin stepped in and he and the officer Judy addressed as Jim almost picked Billie up from the ground. He continued to wail as they set him on his feet and then smacked his forehead.
“Officer, please arrest me. That’s my dad’s gun. I’m safer in jail because he’s going to kill me when he finds out I took it and it’s confinscated.” I tried not to laugh at the audacious kid who couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen.
“Confiscated,” Julie corrected him. Our writer had joined us.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. That’s what’s going to get me killed.”
“Your dad can get it back if he shows proof of ownership,” Jim responded as he prepared to leave. “He’s going to pay a stiff fine, though, for not keeping it locked up properly.”
“I’ll pay for it. How much will it be?”
“A thousand bucks, at least, if your dad doesn’t want jail time,” he snapped.
“Oh, no. Heck with jail—just shoot me!” Then he glanced at Austin, standing there with his arms crossed. “Never mind. I didn’t mean it.”
“Billie, no one’s going to hurt you. I’m Lily Callahan. I live here, and I’d like to ask you something.”
“I know who you are. I saw you with Lettie before, but she’s dead, so now you’re the owner of the vineyard. Everyone says no spoiled Hollywood actress can do what Lettie did around here.” He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“Why did you come here so late at night, carrying a loaded gun, and why were you staring into my window?”
“I figured the Numbers Man would be here tonight, and I wanted to take a picture of him.”
“How were you going to do that, smarty pants?” Zelda asked as we wal
ked back to the house. Julie must have turned all the lights on in the house in addition to the light on the deck.
“That’s a no-brainer—I’m a smarty pants with a smarty phone,” Billie snickered as he pulled a cellphone from a pocket.
“In case you hadn’t figured it out, to take a picture at night you need a flash. Does that mean the Numbers Man was meeting you for a photo op?” Zelda asked with a skeptical expression on her face.
“Are you kidding? No way! He walks around in the woods talking to himself, counting rocks and sticks, and laying them out in circles or squares. Then he messes them up, angry and crying, and stomping around—it’s scary.”
“So, when your camera flash went off, what was your plan, genius? To shoot him?” Melody asked cuddling Darjeeling.
“No. That’s premeditating, right? You’re not going to get me on that because I only brought the gun for self-defense. I wanted the flash to surprise him, so he’d turn around, and I’d get a good picture. Then I figured I could outrun an old guy like that.”
“Unless he carries a gun for self-defense too,” Carrie suggested. “You’re a headline waiting to happen, aren’t you Billie Dundee?”
“Don’t sweat it. I know who you are. You’re the reporter for the Angels. Your team sucks.” Carrie sniffed and then shrugged. She’d said almost the same thing to us when she’d decided to take all her unused vacation days and stick around rather than go back for the rest of baseball season.
“Why tonight?” I asked as we stepped up onto the deck. Judy rushed into the house, with most of my friends following her.
“I already told you. I knew he was going to be here.”
“How?” Julie asked.
“Because I figured out that his counting was running backward—like a NASA countdown, you know? He was at zero tonight for blast off! I was right about him being here, wasn’t I?” Billie asked as we stepped into the kitchen. “I saw him sneaking around. I thought you came outside to meet him, Marshal, where he was waiting in the parking lot.”
“Where?” Austin asked as he gazed out the kitchen door. Billie turned and pointed.
“Behind the truck, see?” That truck wasn’t usually in the lot. I hadn’t seen it arrive, but there was a large reel of coated wire in the back. It must belong to someone who’d hauled in equipment like the tents or lighting.
“Got it.” Austin shut the door. Then he stopped and put on his flannel lined jacket that Judy handed him. He’d hung it in the foyer closet when he arrived hours ago so she must have run to get it for him.
“Thanks, Judy.” Austin gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Why did you think he was waiting for me?” Austin asked Billie as he slipped on that jacket.
“Well, he was angrier than I ever saw him before—saying how it was all messed up. He sneaked around to the front of the house and when he saw you, he stopped spitting and hitting himself, so I figured he was looking for you. Or maybe it was when Lily came out on the balcony.” Billie paused to think about it. “Sorry, I can’t remember for sure. Thanks to you I lost him. I watched you go into the house and when I turned around, he was gone. I decided to check what was going on in the tent that’s set up in the woods. Then I thought maybe the Numbers Man went back around to the back and you let him inside. When a light went on, I hoped I still had a chance to snap a picture of him through the window.”
“Well, you scared me nearly to death,” Melody crabbed at him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, and you scared me back! I was still looking around the room for the Numbers Man when you screamed. I tore off. How was I supposed to know a cop was chasing me and not the Numbers Man? Besides, what kind of a cop comes after a kid with a fireplace tool wearing and almost no clothes?”
“The kind of cop who sees a peeping tom trespassing in the middle of the night, within a few hundred yards of a crime scene. Did you see what the Numbers Man was wearing?” Austin asked
“Yes. The same thing he always wears. A sweatshirt with a hood, a camo jacket with a zipper, and pants stuck into his boots.” I caught Judy’s eye and she nodded. “The first time I saw him, I figured he was a hunter.”
“I’m pretty sure we saw him earlier tonight while it was still storming,” Judy informed him.
“I didn’t count on the storm being so bad. It slowed me down, which is one reason I got here so late. I stopped at the Hayward’s barn to wait for it to blow over. I guess the Numbers Man didn’t care about a storm.”
“When you say he’s old—do you mean old like me or old like your mom and dad?” Judy asked from where she was on the phone calling Billie’s parents.
“I don’t know for sure. He was always out after dark, and the hood hides his face. I don’t even know if his hair is gray or white or if he’s bald. He sounds like an old man.” Then he demonstrated what he meant by that. “That’s not always how he sounds, though.”
“What does that mean?” Melody asked as we all stood around in the kitchen. We were waiting for Billie to answer when Judy interrupted us.
6 Loco Parentis
“Hello, Betty, it’s Judy Tucker.” Billie buried his face in his arms folded in front of him on the breakfast bar. “I know it’s late, but we’ve got Billie here at Calla Lily Vineyards. Have the police contacted you yet?”
Judy held the phone away from her ear. From what I could hear of Betty Dundee’s angry bellow, she was asking, “what has he done now.” Not in a polite way, either. Her tirade continued until Judy cut her off.
“Come pick him up, and he can explain it to you, okay? When you get here, just pull up to the gate and Jesse will let you in. Also, Billie’s not the only trouble we’ve had here tonight. If you see police on the property, they’re not still hanging around because of him.” Judy scowled as she hung up the phone.
“You were going to tell us more about how the Numbers Man sounds,” Judy said. She was still trying to compose herself after dealing with Betty Dundee.
“Sometimes he talks squeaky, in a high voice like a girl—then he answers himself in baby talk. But most of the time, it’s an old man’s voice.”
“He’s seriously disturbed, so I can understand why he scared you. What I don’t understand is why you kept following him.”
“It’s because he’s old and in trouble, that’s why. Someone needs to get him. I guess you’ll do that now, won’t you, Marshal?”
“We’re going to try. He knows his way around here better than we do, but at least we know who we’re after. I wish you’d tried to get him help instead of doing it yourself,” Austin added.
“I did. My mom said I was making it up. I told my teacher, Ms. Wainwright, too. She said she’d do something about it, but then she called my parents. Dad told her it was a lie and not to bother getting the authorities involved. Nothing has changed since the last time the social worker visited. He’s got that right. That’s when I thought that if I got a picture of the guy, they’d have to believe me. If you have more questions, you’d better ask them quick. I’m not going anywhere except school while I’m in lockup, Dundee family style.”
“That won’t stop the police if they have more questions,” Austin assured him.
“You know what, Billie?” I said. “Lockup’s not such a bad idea until we find the man you’ve been following. You heard what Judy told your mom. You haven’t been our only trouble tonight. The Numbers Man may have committed some very bad crimes.”
“Like what?” Billie asked with his eyes like saucers.
“We can’t tell you more than that right now,” Austin said. “I’m sure if you knew where he lived, you’d tell us, wouldn’t you?” Austin asked staring directly into Billie’s wide eyes. Billie gulped and nodded his head.
“Yes, I would. I tried to follow him, but I lost him in the woods. I got lost, too, so I never did it again.”
“Good for you,” Zelda said. “For your sake, I hope he wasn’t following you.”
“If you should happen to see him while you’re at
school, go to the nearest phone and call me, promise? Don’t talk to him, don’t follow him, just go where there are lots of adults around and ask to use a phone. Tell them it’s an important police matter and to call me at the number on my card.”
“I will.” He put the card in his shirt pocket. Then he switched it to a pants pocket before returning it to the shirt pocket.
“You can reach Austin even if you don’t have the card with you. Call 911 from somewhere safe. Tell the person who answers your call to locate Marshal Austin Jennings.”
“Okay, Lily,” he said. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“People who say you’re spoiled are just jealous.” That comment drew a round of “aws” from all the women in the room—even Zelda.
“How about a glass of milk and a couple of cookies before your mom shows up?” Judy asked. Billie smiled so big that his eyes all but vanished behind his round freckly cheeks. Austin had that “me too” expression on his face.
“We can all use milk and cookies, can’t we? Judy and I have been using Aunt Lettie’s favorite recipes to bake cookies for the Thanksgiving Harvest Festival. What do we have to feed Billie before he’s placed under house arrest?”
I was making light of the situation, but alarms were going off in my head. I didn’t want my recent encounters with psycho family members to cloud my judgment about Billie’s situation, but he seemed to be in big trouble at home as well as roaming around in the woods.
Judy took one of the boxes we’d put together for the organizers of this fall’s Festival to sample. She passed them around while Austin poured glasses of milk. For the next few minutes our mouths were too full to speak as we devoured cookies from Aunt Lettie’s heritage as a southerner—crispy pecan praline, molasses spice, and Mississippi mud cookies. A wave of nostalgia hit me as all the happy hours I’d spent in this kitchen with Aunt Lettie rushed in on me. Maybe it was the familiar flavors, the sweet spiciness in the air, or Judy’s presence, since she’d often been with us. Or, it could have been my concern about a twelve-year-old freckle-faced boy whose body might have been among the victims of the Numbers Man. Assuming such a wreck of a man could be our stealthy killer.
A Tangle in the Vines Page 5