by Nic Saint
And Max mouthed back, ‘You’re welcome!’
25
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” said Alec, not for the first time. He and Charlene were in bed watching a Netflix rom-com, and Alec still felt bad about his mother’s behavior.
“It’s fine,” said Charlene, patting her boyfriend’s arm. “I’m sure she won’t do it again.”
“No, I’m sure she will do it again, but I also want you to know that if she does, you have to tell me immediately and I’ll make sure she gets a good telling-off.”
“You think she’s going to persist with this nonsense of the building permit?”
“You don’t know my mother. Once she gets an idea into her head, there’s no removing it, not even with a crowbar.”
“Well, if she approaches me again with an offer of fifty thousand bucks for a permit, I’ll tell her to ask you instead. How does that sound?”
“That sounds like something she’ll take in her stride and she’ll come right back at you with some other cockamamie idea.”
“Your mother really is something else,” said Charlene with a grin.
For a few moments they followed the exploits on TV, but it didn’t do all that much to keep Alec’s attention riveted to the screen, for a few moments later he said, “Honey?”
“Mh?”
“Does my mother’s behavior… give you second thoughts?”
“Second thoughts?”
“About us, I mean.”
She glanced over. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, now that you know what kind of crazy family I have, do you think that maybe… you regret getting involved with me?” he finished, giving her a rueful look.
Much to his surprise, she burst out laughing. “Alec, sweetheart, I knew exactly what I was getting when I got involved with you. I know Vesta, remember? In fact I’ve known her for years. You don’t get to be mayor of this town without knowing pretty much all of its constituents, and frankly Vesta is the kind of constituent you ignore at your peril.”
“So you knew what you were getting into and you still…”
“Decided to go through with it? I didn’t hesitate for a second, sweetie. Not one second. Look, Vesta Muffin is a cross all of Hampton Cove collectively has to bear, and besides, she’s not as bad as all that. She means well. She always does. It’s just that she has a very special way of accomplishing what she wants, consequences be damned.”
“She does mean well,” Alec admitted.
“Like now with this permit. She wants to make her family some extra money by renting out apartments. And when you get right down to it, what’s wrong with that?”
“It’s wrong because she can’t just build whatever she wants wherever she wants to build it—and also, my sister doesn’t want to open her house to a bunch of strangers.”
“Well, sure, that’s the bad part, but her intentions are good.”
“Her intentions are always good,” said Alec ruefully.
“Look, between you and me, and the rest of your family, I think we can handle one little old lady, wouldn’t you agree?”
He emitted a deep sigh. “I hope so,” he said finally.
“Why? What do you know that I don’t?”
“Oh, just that she started a watch war.”
“A watch war? What are you talking about?”
“Wilbur Vickery and Father Reilly have also launched a neighborhood watch, and Vesta doesn’t like the competition, so last night she rear-ended Wilbur’s car. And I have a feeling that’s just the beginning.”
Charlene gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. And now let me watch this next part. It’s the best bit of the whole movie.”
Alec would have said that no part of any rom-com could ever be called a best part, but since Charlene loved these kinds of movies, he sank down on the pillow, and watched her enjoy it. And when she laughed out loud at the funny bit, he smiled, too. He wondered not for the first time what he’d done to deserve a woman like her.
Vesta and Scarlett were patrolling the streets of their town again, as was their habit of an evening, and this time they had a very particular objective in mind: the Hampton Heisters were still at large, and so Vesta had decided that the watch was going to bring them to justice.
Scarlett had her doubts about this lofty goal, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Vesta got what Vesta wanted, so she figured she might as well go along with it.
Vesta’s little red Peugeot had been fixed in record time, and once again declared fit for duty, and tonight they were patrolling the area where the rich and famous lived. It was a narrow strip of prime real estate along the beach, where actors and singers and businesspeople had built large and impressive McMansions, and it was along here that the Hampton Heisters had struck six times in a row, and it was only to be expected that soon they’d strike again, attracted by all the wealth that was on display there.
“Don’t you think that with one of their crew in prison they might give up?” asked Scarlett as they slowly cruised along the boulevard that connected the large mansions. Not that they could actually see those mansions, since they were mostly hidden from view behind large fences and tall hedges at the end of long and winding driveways.
“I don’t think they’re going to be stopped by a little thing like that,” said Vesta. “These people are obviously addicted to the thrill of breaking into the homes of the celebrities they admire.”
“Admire? That isn’t the word that comes to mind when I think of this gang.”
“Of course they admire them, Scarlett. They collect their memorabilia, don’t they?”
“Probably to sell online.”
“Nothing they’ve stolen has been offered for sale, so it stands to reason they intend to keep that stuff.”
They passed a dark sedan, and when Scarlett glanced over, she recognized the two cops riding in the sedan. “Looks like we’re not the only ones patrolling tonight.”
“The police are under a great deal of pressure to stop this gang. Alec told me that the governor himself called today and expressed his concern.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch.”
“So is it true?” asked Scarlett.
“Is what true?” asked Vesta as she scanned the street ahead for possible nefarious activities in progress.
“That you offered Charlene Butterwick money in exchange for a building permit?”
“And how do you know about that?”
“Someone saw you two arguing at the golf club today, and caught a few snippets of your conversation.”
“Probably the caddy,” Vesta grunted. “Yeah, so what if I did? It’s just a regular business transaction. If you want something, you pay for it. No big deal.”
“It’s also called bribery, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal,” Scarlett pointed out.
“You shouldn’t listen to gossip,” Vesta grumbled. “Besides, she turned me down, and then my son had the gall to lecture me about it, so as far as I’m concerned, that chapter is closed.”
“You’re not going to try to build those extra floors?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said that this particular chapter is closed. Now will you look at that. Bold as brass!”
She was referring to four masked and hooded figures trying to crawl over a fence up ahead.
“That’s them!” Scarlett cried.
“Let’s get ‘em!”
Vesta quickly parked and they both got out, armed to the teeth with stun guns, cans of mace and Vesta’s old shotgun, and hurried in the direction of the hoodlums. And they would have reached them if another car hadn’t suddenly blocked them off by jumping the curb and two familiar figures crawled out: they were Wilbur and Francis Reilly!
“Drop your weapons!” Wilbur shouted, as he aimed what looked like a banana in a sock at them.
“They’re getting away, you old fool!” Vesta cried, gesturing to the Hampton Heisters, who’d noticed the altercation and w
ere now getting back down, and onto four scooters.
“Drop your weapons right now!” Wilbur repeated, and pointed his banana—or it could have been a gun, of course—in their direction.
Meanwhile, the crooks had started up their scooters, and were taking off!
“You idiot!” Vesta screamed. “Just look behind you!”
“You’re not fooling me,” said Wilbur, still brandishing his weapon. “There’s nothing behind me.”
“The Hampton Heisters are behind you!” said Scarlett. “Francis, just look!”
And Francis did look, just in time to see the Hampton Heisters turn a corner.
“Hey, wasn’t that…” the aged priest muttered.
“That was the gang!” said Vesta. “You let them get away!”
“But…”
“Why did you stop us?”
“Because this is our territory,” said Wilbur. “This is where Francis and I patrol.”
“What territory?”
“We’ve decided that you can have the North side of town, and we’ll take the South,” said Francis. “That way we can both coexist peacefully, and not get in each other’s way.”
“Well, you just got in our way—big time!”
“Yeah, you could have told us about this territory thing,” said Scarlett.
“We just thought about it,” said Francis sheepishly.
“Oh, God—you two are hopeless!” said Vesta, stomping the ground and throwing her can of mace at Wilbur. “Hopeless!”
“What is that weapon you’ve got here?” asked Scarlett.
“Um…” said Wilbur, and removed a banana from the sock.
“I knew it was a banana,” said Vesta.
“People, maybe we should work together from now on,” Francis suggested. “That way maybe we can actually catch the bad guys, instead of sabotaging each other.”
“And now you think of that!” said Vesta.
Suddenly a police siren sounded, and the police car they’d spotted earlier came zooming past, flashing light and all, then disappeared around that same corner.
“Look what you did,” said Vesta. “Now the cops are going to get all the credit.”
“Who lives here?” asked Wilbur, pointing to the fence.
“Lil Leaky Fruit Loop,” said Francis. “He’s a rapper,” he added when they all stared at him in wonder.
“Well, at least we saved Mr. Fruit Loop the inconvenience of being burgled,” said Scarlett.
“Small consolation,” Vesta murmured.
26
Dooley and I had decided to skip cat choir for a change. It didn’t look like we were welcome there anymore, and since dog choir hadn’t really done it for me, a nice evening at home seemed like the ticket. And we were both sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed—of course interspersed with the occasional trip downstairs to have a nibble and a pop into the litter box—when suddenly Odelia’s phone rang.
“Who can that be?” asked a sleepy Odelia as she grabbed for the device. She got it after the third attempt and muttered, “It’s Dan.”
“Dan?” said an equally sleepy Chase. “What does he want?”
“Dan? Hi,” said Odelia. “What’s up?”
She listened for a moment, then said, “We’re coming over.” She turned to Chase. “Dan says there was a break-in at the office. He’s already called it in but wants me to check if they took anything.”
“I’ll drive you,” said Chase, as he swung his feet from underneath the covers.
“We’ll come, too!” I said.
And so it was that we entered Odelia’s office in the middle of the night, when most humans are sound asleep in their beds.
Dan was waiting for us in his office, looking grim. He was dressed in his pajamas, his white beard looking as if a strong gale had had its way with it, his white hair tousled. “I think they were in your office but I’m not sure,” he said. A couple of Chase’s colleagues were already looking around to figure out how the thieves had gotten in, and Chase joined them.
Odelia quickly headed over to her own office, followed by yours truly and Dooley, and we found her computer on the floor, a chair turned over, plenty of drawers open and the floor littered with documents. “Check to see if they took something,” Dan advised. “I already checked my office, and as far as I can tell nothing was taken.”
“How did Dan know they broke in?” I asked.
“Dan had an alarm system installed last year,” Odelia explained after Dan had returned to assist the officers. “Whenever the alarm is tripped an app on his phone sends him an alert.”
She heaved her computer back onto her desk and booted it up. “It works,” she announced happily. Odelia also has a laptop, but she still uses her old bulky computer. It looks like a dinosaur, but unlike the dinosaurs refuses to go extinct. It’s synced with her laptop, which she mainly uses at home. She quickly started looking through her files.
“Did they access the computer?” I asked.
“Looks like they did.”
I glanced around at the mess on the floor. Fortunately the thieves had left Dooley and my little nook in the corner untouched. Then again, only the two of us have use for that cozy basket, those ultra-soft blankets and those plush toys.
“I don’t understand why anyone would break into a newspaper,” Dooley said. “There’s no money here, or anything of particular value.”
“Could be vandals, I suppose,” I said. “They’ll break in just for the fun of it.”
“I got it,” said Odelia. “They accessed the article I was working on about the Hampton Heisters. They put it in the trash but didn’t delete it, so I can easily retrieve it again.” She messed around on her computer some more, then announced, “They also deleted a chunk of emails. Looks like all the emails from last year.”
“Do you think it was the Hampton Heisters?” asked Dooley.
“I think so,” she said. “They must have been after my articles on them. Maybe wanting to find out where the investigation stands. Everybody knows Chase is my husband, so they must have figured I was an easier target than to break into the precinct.”
“Those Hampton Heisters are a real pain in the patootie,” I said.
Chase entered the office, followed by Uncle Alec, who’d also just gotten out of bed, judging from the electric hair he was sporting. “And? Anything?”
“They tried to delete my article on the Hampton Heisters,” said Odelia, “and also they deleted a bunch of my emails.”
“Those Hampton Heisters again,” said Uncle Alec grimly. “Ma almost caught them this evening, but that idiot Wilbur Vickery got in the way. And when a patrol car finally got wise, they chased after them but of course by then they’d already disappeared.”
“They tried to break in somewhere?” asked Odelia.
“Yeah, some rapper’s house.”
“You would think that with one of their gang behind bars they’d lay low for a while,” said Chase.
“Looks like they’re determined to keep going until they’re all caught,” said the Chief. “Look, you better go back to bed. I’ll deal with this. No sense in all of us sticking around.”
“You don’t think they’ll be back?” asked Odelia.
“They’d be crazy if they tried,” Uncle Alec grunted.
“Maybe it was the vlogger,” said Dooley now. “Looking for more material for his vlog.”
“Good call, Dooley,” I said, and immediately relayed this information to Odelia.
“Maybe he was looking for information on his sex maniac friend,” Dooley added. “Wanting to know if he’s going to be all right. Sex maniacs look out for each other.”
“If he really wanted to know if Carl Strauss was fine he simply could have gone down to the hospital and asked,” I pointed out. “No, I think it was probably those Heisters again. This looks like the thing that they do: break into places and make a big mess.”
“Let’s go home and get some more sleep,” said Chase, yawning, and so that’s wha
t we did.
27
The next morning, bright and early, I was awakened by some kind of altercation or ruckus. When I went in search of its source, I found myself once more in the corridor, where a line had formed outside the bathroom.
“Vesta! Open that door!” Tex was yelling, pounding on the door.
“Will you please stop harassing me, Tex!” Gran yelled back from inside the bathroom. “A girl doesn’t like to be rushed, you know!”
‘You’re not a girl, and I need to use the bathroom! Now!”
“I was here first!”
“She’s always in there first,” Tex complained to his wife, who looked just as annoyed as he was. Then a look of determination came over him, and he stalked off, stomping down the stairs.
“Tex, where are you going?” asked Marge.
“I’m going to use that porta-potty!” Tex declared.
“You can’t use that! That’s for the workers only!”
“If I’m paying for it, I can use it!” And he slammed the kitchen door.
“What’s a porta-potty, Max?” asked Dooley.
“It’s a portable toilet that construction workers use when they’re on location,” I explained. “It works with some kind of chemical mixture that decomposes the, um… excrement and hides the unpleasant odor. So basically like a litter box for humans.”
“I’m afraid if this keeps up Tex is going to go berserk,” Marge confessed.
“He’ll be all right,” I told her. “A couple of months from now, when all this is over and you’re living in a nice new house, you will look back and laugh.”
“I hope so,” said Marge, who didn’t look like she was about to burst out laughing. “Ma!” she yelled, taking over the door-banging from her husband. “How much longer!”
“Maybe you could also use the porta-potty?” I suggested.
“Or you can use my litter box, Marge,” said Dooley, once again extending his magnanimous offer.
Odelia and Chase had joined the line, and Odelia said, “We really should install a second toilet downstairs.”