Berried, page 20
part #6 of Charlie Cooper Mystery Series
I laughed. “The four of us handled it pretty good.”
As if on cue, the sound of sirens followed.
McMillan nodded at us. “Thank you,” he said, “for putting up with an old man’s crazy wishes. I appreciate it more than you know. And in the end, you solved the case.”
With all the worry over dying, I almost forgot that we did. We solved the case.
Chapter Nineteen
I dunked my French dip sandwich into the tiny dish of sauce and took a bite. I closed my eyes and savored the warmth and burst of flavor. Three days went by since we survived the Dingman ordeal.
Marge looked down at her notebook, where she was writing down some final musings on the case. “It looks like this one is a wrap.” She smiled.
“Good job, team!” I reached for an onion ring.
“Yeah,” Celeste said. “I’m aching, sore, and still freaked out from thinking I was about to die, but girls, we solved this thing, and this one wasn’t easy.”
“It stumped the police for sure,” I said.
Celeste held up her hand, and we gave her a high five.
“Could you pass the ketchup?” McMillan asked. “Now, this place has a chef who knows how to make a burger. These fancy places nowadays don’t know how to do a simple thing like fry a piece of meat, or they’ll bring you out a burger the size of your granny’s thimble.”
“Jack’s is the best,” Marge said.
McMillan had handed us our check, and we were wrapping up loose ends. Things seemed settled for the most part, but Marge was scribbling away, as chatty on the page as she was out loud.
Our client stopped mid-bite and frowned again at the fluffy toy bouncing with a fervor on top of Marge’s pen. “Now that you’ve been paid, you can buy your pens from a nice place and not the toy department,” he told her. “In my day, a professional appearance was a thing of value, but what does an old man know?” He put more ketchup on his burger then eyed us with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay now? That was quite a night.”
“My arm still hurts,” said Marge, “from where Fern landed on me, and I had just about recovered from the bingo game.”
“That whole family is nuts,” Celeste said. “I can’t believe those two took off with us like that.”
“The father too,” I said. “Why would he go and bury that stupid paper in the yard, when he could have just said to Camden, “Hey, look, here is the deal”?
“Clarence Dingman was an old fool.” McMillan took a sip of milk. “A lot of what he did made no sense whatsoever, and half the time he was drunk. He tried to hide his drinking problem, but I have eyes. I knew what was what.” He picked up his burger. “It looks like he passed his lack of sense on to that boy of his.”
“Can I just say again how much you kicked butt last night?” Marge’s eyes grew wide as she watched our client. “That was absolutely epic—you showing up like that with your flower-berry gun.”
If he hadn’t followed us…well, I still couldn’t let my mind go there.
Celeste took a sip of coffee. “Bert told me this morning that our friends, the Dingmans, are going to recover from their shot wounds. He also told me, though, they would have bled to death if the EMTs hadn’t shown up when they did.”
“Hmm.” McMillan dipped a fry in ketchup. “Not only did I help the three of you, I guess I saved two fools from an early death.”
“I guess you did that, but they won’t be getting out of prison anytime soon.” Celeste reached up to fluff her hair.
A silence fell across the table. All of us were shell-shocked and exhausted. Twice, the night before, I’d been startled awake by nightmares involving blood and gunshot blasts and Camden’s creepy laugh.
Alex had arrived at the scene with our rescue squad. He told us our kidnappers were likely heading with us to a family cabin that was hidden and remote. Just the thought of that sent a shiver through me even now. Thank goodness for stupidity and a gas tank that hit empty at the perfect time.
While the other officers had done their official stuff, Alex had rushed over and held me to him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered in my ear. In between the whispers, he planted tiny kisses on my cheeks and forehead. Then he took my face in his hands and kissed me for so long that the dumbass Dingmans and the terrifying night were momentarily forgotten.
“You girls are first-rate.” McMillan broke the silence. “You figured this thing out, and now I can have some peace.”
Celeste caught my eye and winked. Coming from this client, this simple statement was like the Nobel Prize—or an Olympic medal.
“The officers know now you were right about the first night when you called them,” I said to McMillan.
“They do know.” His familiar scowl was back. “But they need to learn to listen. In my day that was a simple skill they taught in kindergarten.”
My thoughts turned to that first night. “You know, the only thing that still doesn’t make sense is the gunshot you heard that first night or that stuff about Tony winners or wet gullets or whatever.”
He waved the thought away. “As long as those fools are not coming back, I don’t have any interest in interpreting their babble.”
“Hmm.” Marge wrote something down, causing the toy at the end of her pen to begin its little dance.
McMillan watched her taking notes. “I’m always afraid that thing is going to fly right off and land straight into my eye. You could blind a man.” He glanced at his watch. “I should be going now,” said the man I thought must have nothing on his schedule but free time.
“Where are you off to?” Celeste asked.
“I had some frozen berries from my garden, so this morning I got up and made a cake—lemon blueberry. Have you tried a cake like that? It’s from a recipe my mama used to make.” A hint of a proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He stood up from the booth. “I thought I’d take it over to that old bat, Mrs. Dingman, to express my sympathies. Not only was her ex one heck of a loser, but now her son turns out to be a crook—and an idiot to boot.” He coughed. “Plus I guess it can’t be easy on her when I fire up that old gun every now and then.”
In another surprising show of kindness, he picked up the check.
Celeste pulled it from his hand. “This one is on us, friend. It’s the least we can do.”
Just as he was turning to leave, Alex showed up next to our booth. He shook McMillan’s hand.
McMillan nodded a hello. “Good afternoon, Detective.” Then he turned to us. “Thank you for a fine lunch. I’ll see you on Friday.”
Alex slid in next to me. “What’s happening on Friday?”
“Just a little bingo,” Marge told him a smile.
He looked from Marge to me. “Bingo? With McMillan?”
Celeste shrugged and laughed. “I guess we have a new routine to start our weekends now.”
Alex looked at me, amused. “Never a dull moment with you three.” He leaned in for a kiss and I almost melted.
His phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up and frowned. “I’m afraid I have to take this.” He stood up. “If the waitress comes by, would you tell her please I’d like a turkey sandwich with a coke?”
Dreamily, I watched him walk away. I turned and noticed Marge and Celeste staring. Both of them were grinning ear to ear.
“It’s going well?” Celeste asked.
“Really, really, well?” Marge asked.
I blushed. “He’s the best.”
“Don’t let Barbara know,” Celeste said with a laugh. “I imagine she can book a church and plan a wedding in record-breaking time. She does seem very anxious for you to have a special day.”
“Too late for that.” I grinned. “She saw us at Jack’s. We were…having a close moment, and now the word is out. Our kids should call her Nana because Grandma sounds too old. And lilies would be lovely for a wedding in the spring.”
Celeste laughed and looked over at the counter, where my father was talking to a group of customers. “Is Jack good with this?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s just another subject to work into his jokes, which get worse by the week. I don’t think Brad has even noticed. As always, he’s oblivious to anything outside his geeky gaming world.” I took a breath. “Speaking of my brother, you wouldn’t believe what happened: he got a job.”
Marge gasped. “You’re kidding?”
I shook my head. “Nope, I couldn’t believe it myself.”
Celeste raised an eyebrow. “He does understand that in order to have a job he’ll have to leave his room and you know, do some work?” She picked a cherry tomato from her salad and popped it into her mouth.
“What kind of job?” Marge asked.
“It has to do with online games. Brad has been obsessed with some kind of gaming contest as his latest thing. He’s been staying up all night playing. Super geeky, right?” I picked up an onion ring. “In the end, he won. He won five thousand dollars, which he invested in more computer stuff. Kind of figures.” I straightened my glasses on my nose. “So while the contest was going on, there were these big-shot gaming people scouting out the players—and they offered him a job as a video game developer.”
Marge gave me a thumbs-up and winked. “Tell him the yellow lady says, ‘Go, Brad!’"
“Wow.” Celeste sat back in her seat. “He’ll get paid to play. That must be a dream come true.”
I smiled. “There will be some days he won’t even have to leave the house, which you know he’ll love. He can stay up in his man cave and do his thing from there. Then on other days, he’ll go into an office with other Brad-like people. It’s the perfect job for him.”
Marge laughed. “Brad got a job. McMillan makes a cake to be nice to Mrs. Dingman. The world is going nuts!”
“Tell me about it,” I said.
“How are the renovations?” Marge asked.
“Brad finally had enough of tripping over cans of paint and finished up the kitchen all by himself. After that, he painted the whole living room. That was next on my mother’s list.” It had been a weird week. Brad had gotten a real job and picked up a paintbrush. Perhaps he’d been energized by his lucky break—or maybe he just wanted an empty table in the kitchen with a place to put his plate. The paint cans all were gone.
“How does the living room look?” Marge asked anxiously. “I sooo want to see!”
I frowned. “The paint looks nice and fresh, but the color doesn’t seem to have changed at all, even after fifty zillion cans of sample paint. My mom seems happy, though.” I picked up my drink. “Speaking of my mother, she heard all about our bingo night from her student Mrs. Kansky.”
Marge’s face turned red. “Really? What did she think about me getting mixed up with that?”
“She was on Team Marge! She was incensed you didn’t win after buying twenty cards.”
“Perhaps this week, I will.”
My dad showed up at our booth and topped off Celeste’s coffee. “How are things with you three? I understand you’ve been busy.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Charlie was positively white when she came home last night. It was like she’d had a scare. I had no idea that working with computers could wipe you out like that.” He looked at Marge and Celeste. “Don’t work my girl too hard, now, or you’ll have Jack to answer to.” His booming laugh filled up the diner.
“It was quite a day,” Marge said, “but today has been much better.”
“I’m feeling good today,” I reassured my dad.
“I wonder why,” he teased. “I saw you with that young man your mother is so ready to march down the aisle.”
“Dad, stop,” I said. I felt my face turn red. Alex could walk in any minute and hear the conversation.
He glanced at Marge’s notebook. She really ought to be more careful with that thing and keep it closed. Curious, he stared down at her scribblings, which I’m sure were most decidedly not related to computers.
“Tony winners?” he asked. “Betty’s crew?”
Oh...uh. I exchanged glances with Marge and Celeste.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” my dad said. “That’s not how it goes.”
I blinked twice. “What do you mean, that’s not how it goes?”
“That was a perfect line,” my dad said. “One of the all-time greats!” He pointed a finger at Marge as if he were shooting at her. “Only sinners get a bullet, Pettigrew.”
We stared at him, stunned.
Finally, Celeste found her voice. “What in the world is that?”
It was his turn to look confused. “I thought you were going for the line from that great old sixties movie. Whiskey and Gold. Have you seen it? Otherwise, those things on your paper don’t make a lot of sense. Pony dinners get a pullet?”
“Whiskey and Gold,” I repeated. It would make no sense for Camden and Gossard to have screamed out movie lines that night in McMillan’s yard. This case just kept on getting weirder.
“I’ve always loved that scene,” my father said with a smile. “Pettigrew is the most wanted man in town, and the sheriff, in one of the great scenes, aims a bullet at him.” This time, he pointed his finger/gun at me. “Only sinners get a bullet, Pettigrew,” he said once again in a deep voice. “We can try to rent it, Charlie, if you want to watch.”
“Um, sure,” I said.
“It’s a plan, then,” he said.
Some people from a nearby table waved at my dad.
“Okay then, just holler if you need more coffee,” he said.
Then he was off.
“I don’t understand.” Marge looked just as confused as me.
“Let me check something,” I said. I pulled out my cell and did a Google search. “Oh, my gosh,” I said.
“What? What?” Marge was on the edge of her seat.
“That movie aired the night McMillan thought he heard the voices. This is just too weird.”
“He heard TV voices?” Celeste’s eyes grew huge.
Mental forehead smack!
“I don’t believe this,” I said. “All along it was the TV, and he got the line wrong.”
“Mrs. Dingman’s TV,” Marge said and shook her head in disbelief.
“You’re right,” I said. “Remember Camden said his mother had the volume up so high that night? That has to be what happened.”
After we’d absorbed the shock, we laughed so hard we ended up in tears.
We had settled down a bit by the time Alex came back to the booth. “Can I hear the joke?” he asked. “It must have been a good one.”
“You won’t believe this, Alex.” I told him what we’d learned.
He laughed and sat back against the seat. “I thought I’d seen it all, but that’s a new one for me.”
“Should we tell McMillan?” Marge began to laugh again.
“I think some things are better left untold,” I said.
Celeste agreed.
Then I turned to Alex. “Did you find out what Camden’s dad had at that storage place, and was it really worth a fortune?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re ready for it, because the craziness continues. All he had was…action figures.”
We looked at each other, once again dumbfounded.
“Please tell me they were expensive action figures, at least,” Celeste said.
“Twenty years ago, there was a market for them, but they’ve plummeted in value. If Camden’s plan had worked, he and his accomplice wife would have made three hundred bucks if they’d sold off the loot.”
“Well,” Celeste said with a sigh, “that’s a great incentive for one grown-ass man to hide a buried-treasure map and for two other fools to dig it up in the dark of night.”
That got us going once again. People at nearby tables turned to stare as they heard Celeste’s honking laugh. I wiped more tears from my eyes.
Marge struck a ninja pose. “I always thought I would make an awesome action figure. That would be so much fun.”
A waitress brought Alex’s sandwich, and Marge and I placed orders for dessert. If I ever deserved dessert, this week would be the time.
Alex filled us in some more, saying that Tiffany had been released. “We did find evidence there had been a break-in—I’m sure to plant the gun.”
“Bert checked in this morning again,” Celeste said, adding to the updates. “He wanted to say congratulations for…not dying, I suppose. He seemed a bit shook up by what went down that night.”
“If he was shaken up in the comfort of his office, he can just imagine how we felt in that car,” Marge said. Then she sighed. “You know, I think there are places where you can order action figures of yourself. We could get one for each of us. How would that look in our office?”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Like we’re striking poses that don’t make a lot of sense for technical consultants.”
We found ourselves talking over coffee late into the afternoon. Alex’s arm had found its way around my shoulder, and I moved closer to him.
Marge winked. “You two are looking cozy. You’re really the cutest.”
He smiled. “I’m glad the word is out. Now I don’t have to worry about who could be watching if I want to kiss my girl.” He pressed his lips to mine.
Despite all the coffee, I grew kind of sleepy and started to zone out during Marge’s kitten updates. Still, I didn’t want to leave. I loved being next to Alex as he stroked my arm. I speared my last bite of cheesecake and offered it to him.
He ate it from my fork and then leaned back against his seat. He looked tired as well.
“Marge, what is that?” he asked after a while, staring at her purse.
I followed his gaze.
Leaping lemon cakes!
Sticking out of Marge’s purse was…the tip of the windshield wiper. Alex’s windshield wiper.
Celeste noticed too, and I watched as her face fell.
How could Marge possibly be carrying that wiper with her for all the world to see? When did she take it with her, anyway?
