Murder Takes to the Hills (34 page)

“I’m afraid it is a little more serious than that, Mrs.
Wismer
. That kind of threat is
 
not only a crime and possibly a hate crime, it has caused Cindy a great deal of on-going fear and stress.”

“I suppose you are right, and I’m terribly sorry about what Cindy has gone through. I must admit, however, I’m not happy with Larry being involved with the police.” She cocked her head at Sonny. “And I ask again: where is he?”

At that moment the intercom buzzed. Sonny picked it up, listened and said, “Thanks, Nacho. Send them in.” He turned to Mrs.
Wismer
. “He’s here.”

The hall door opened, and Larry and Edgar came in. Mrs.
Wismer
gasped and Cindy did her eyebrow thing again. Sonny leaned over to me, stifling a giggle—we both have an unfortunate tendency to giggle at inopportune times—and he wasn’t helping me much right now.

He whispered, “They look like two guys from that painting of the three Revolutionary War soldiers, all bandaged up and marching along with a drum and fife and flag.”

They did indeed. Larry had a splint taped to his nose, which also looked to be packed with cotton, and a thick Ace bandage around his right thumb and hand. Edgar Fountain had a blossoming black eye and was walking very strangely and delicately.

“My God, my poor baby! What on earth happened to you?”

Obviously embarrassed, Larry tried to speak nonchalantly, no easy task when you’re talking with half a bale of cotton in your nose.

“I’m okay, Gran. It’s just a busted node and a sprained
thub
. Bud the doc gave me a pain pill and I feel funny—like I did
thad
time I drank the
cookin
’ sherry.” He sat down abruptly. “And I’m real sorry
Offider
Fountain
thad
I hit your eye and kicked you id the…id the lower stomach.”

“Larry! You had a fight with a policeman? You’re lucky he didn’t kill you!”

“I’d like to,” Edgar muttered. Mrs.
Wismer
stiffened and glared. She took a deep breath, ready for a verbal artillery blast, but Sonny beat her to it.

“All right, everybody quiet please so we can wrap this up and let our wounded heroes go home.”

He shuffled some papers and continued. “Larry, you were in front of the drugstore, waiting for a buddy, and you heard what Travis said, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you got a very good look at him, didn’t you?”

“Un-huh. I walked over toward him to tell him he should
neber
speak to a lady
lide
that, especially Mid Hart. Bud I chickened
oud
; there were too many
ob
them.”

“A smart move. Your next smart move would have been to tell the police what had happened. But it was spring break, you had several days to do what you wished, so you decided to handle it yourself.”

Larry dropped his head. I hoped he didn’t start the nose bleed again.

Sonny winked at me and continued. “Now, Larry, we know you have—shall we say—a warm feeling for Ms. Hart, so you began to follow her to make sure nothing bad happened to her.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Of course…Larry.

Cindy whispered, “Oh, my God, why didn’t I see it?”

Mrs.
Wismer’s
feelings were more audible. “Oh, Larry, what the hell were you thinking? You asinine young pup! Having a crush on an older woman is one thing, turning into the Avenger is another! I could just shake you! Look at all the trouble you’ve caused and now your lovely nose will never look the same!” She burst into tears.

 
Larry followed suit. And this was not good for packed noses. I reached down the table, patted his hand and put my oar in the water.

“Now, Larry, listen to me. You weren’t the only one to make a mistake. Cindy was frightened and should have told me or Sonny, but she was afraid one of us might be hurt. So she walked around figuring this Travis might appear any minute, toss her in a van and molest her.”

I paused to light a cigarette, ignored my dear brother’s meaningful glance and did not hand it to him. So he took up my commentary instead.

“Cindy had not gotten a good look at Travis, so any man over forty frightened her. You didn’t fall into that category, Larry, so even if she noticed your following her, her radar classified you as
friend
, and it never occurred to her that you were her ‘stalker.’”

I casually moved my cigarette pack out of Sonny’s reach, smiled and picked up on what I had been saying.

“Your note on her car was not one of your brighter moves, but in the long run, it was good. It upset Cindy to the point that she told Sonny and me of her ‘stalker,’ and Sonny set things in motion to find him. That has been done. By the time it comes to trial, you will be able to speak English again. Your heart is as big as New Jersey, Larry
Wismer
, and it was in the right place all the way, even if the rest of you wasn’t.”

“Hear, hear,” cheered Cindy and Sonny. Mrs.
Wismer
managed a smile. Edgar Fountain let out something between a moan and a growl.

“Yes, Edgar, I understand your displeasure.” Sonny gave him a sympathetic head shake. “If I have it correctly you were in your car in the bank parking lot, not realizing Cindy was busy and working through lunch. Larry-On-Patrol mistook you for Travis, pulled you out of your car and popped you one in the eye, while yelling for someone to call nine-one-one.”

I took pity and handed Sonny the lighter and cigarettes. He lit one, took a puff and went on.

“Deputy Fountain, you tried to cuff Larry, but he somehow twisted away and you grabbed at him, spraining his thumb, the pain causing him to kick out at you and cause you considerable smarting in the, as he said, lower stomach. Fortunately, two security guards then ran out of the bank and separated you. Now I know you both have a beef here. And you could each hire a lawyer and keep him or her in fine old brandy for the next five years, until you settle anything.”

He took a drag. “My ardent recommendation is that you both forget it. Larry, I hope you’ve learned a lesson. Edgar, you know pain sometimes goes with the job…just send us your bill.”

Sonny’s fingers did a little tap dance on the intercom, and within seconds Nacho and Hatcher came in briskly.
 
Sonny gave them their directives. “Hatcher, please help Larry to his grandmother’s car—he’s a little woozy. Then drive Officer Fountain home in his car. Nacho, follow Hatcher and bring him back. Thanks. Now, Mrs.
Wismer
, let me walk you to your car. You know, that hat is perfect with that outfit.”

She looked up at him and grinned. “Charmer!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Cindy and I stood looking at each other for a moment, perhaps feeling like
schoolkids
no one had told that class was over and they could leave the room. Finally we laughed and skipped out, arms around each other’s waists and singing that we were off to see some wizard.

Reaching my car, we agreed that lunch was in order and the Wharf Rat was the place.
 
It didn’t take us long to get there.

A weekday meant it wasn’t overcrowded this early in the year. I was glad to note that Harmon and The Blues Boys were not in session. I wasn’t up to another chapter of Cassie and her Three Musketeers…or to some other wild drug plot he thought he had uncovered.

I was surprised to see who
was
there. My mother and Aunt Mae were having lunch. With other customers still fairly thin on the ground, they had made themselves comfortable at a table for four and waved us over.

“Darlings! What a nice surprise. I hope you can join us?”

Of course we could, and as we sat, a waiter appeared asking if we’d care for a drink. Cindy ordered a double scotch and soda; I opted for a double bourbon old fashioned and did a credible imitation of Cindy’s eyebrow trick, and Aunt Mae gave us her best myopic stare. Then they both looked at their watches and took a meaningful sip from their iced tea glasses.

“It’s been a hectic morning,” I offered as our excuse.

“It’s been a hectic spring,” Cindy underscored.

“What on earth happened to warrant double drinks barely after noon? I assume this is not an everyday occurrence,” Aunt Mae asked, her mouth a prim, disapproving little pout.

I remembered what my mom had told me about Aunt Mae and Uncle Frank when they were first married—that they were definitely members in good standing of the wild party set. I was in no mood for her rare holier than thou act, and came very close to telling her so.

Fortunately, the waiter came with the drinks and asked for our food order. Cindy grabbed a menu. I ordered my favorite, a pastrami on rye with
french
fries and a half-sour pickle.

Cindy handed the menu back to the waiter and said, “Just double that.” She was really in a recuperative mood to pass up her usual healthy salad for my kind of lunch. I was delighted.

When he left, I looked at Cindy and said, “You start.”

She sipped her drink and began to tell them the tale of the stalker. She was unaware I had told them a portion of it before we went on vacation, and they—fortunately for me—were shrewd enough not to let on. Now, at least, it was presumably history. As we told them of the various events, including this morning’s wrap-up, they registered, sympathy, outrage and—at the end—amusement.

Happily our food arrived then, and we could eat while we mumbled answers to their questions.

Even Cindy had one for me. “Are they going to hang the SOB?”

“No,” I replied, “and I doubt he’ll even walk the plank. Probably he’ll technically get maybe six months in jail, but actually he’ll get probation and a bunch of community service hours.”

“What about the three young men?” Mom inquired.

“Probably just some community service. Frankly, I’m not sure they even broke any laws, unless
Ptown
has some weird antiquated ones on the books—which wouldn’t surprise me.”

“I’m glad.” Cindy finished her highball and waved her glass at the waiter. Obviously the drink was a mellowing influence. “They weren’t really bad. They just haven’t figured out yet that an approach like that gets you absolutely nowhere with anyone you really want to date anyway.”

She shook her finger at me for some reason. “But that Travis! I stared at him the whole time this morning and he never would look at me even once! He never even said he was sorry. And I say hang ’
im
!”

“Cindy dear, would you care for some coffee and dessert?” Aunt Mae inquired. I managed not to laugh at the look Cindy gave her.

At the same time Mom asked me, “Is this Travis a danger?”

“I think not,” I replied. “I don’t think he really intended Cindy to hear him. I think he is simply a crude man, trying to impress his young workers with the idea that he’s a macho man of the world who knows how to handle uppity broads and make them like it...that he is still a better ‘man’ than they will ever be. His police record is clean except for parking tickets, Nacho told me, and his work record is all quite normal. He was scared to death this morning.” I chortled, “if he owns a van himself, it’s on the market by now. I think he’s all talk.”

Mom nodded. “I hope you’re right. I know Loretta
Wismer
…lovely lady. I must call her and see how Larry is, poor boy. She adores him—he’s really all she has—but I give her credit, she hasn’t spoiled him. Well.” She checked her watch. “We must be going…”

“Whither bound?”

“Oh, nothing exciting. Barbara Kincaid is still on a walker with that broken fibula. So we are running her errands and doing some shopping for her…probably all wrong, but she’ll be too nice to mention it.”

I smiled. “Still another star in your crowns.”