The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery) (13 page)

BOOK: The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery)
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I scowled at him and then stared behind him where another figure was looming. This one was brandishing a shovel.

“Oh no!” I shouted.

“Yes, it does,” he chuckled. “Not every woman can claim that.”

“No, don’t!” I yelled, lurching forward. “Put that shovel down!”

“Just kidding,” he said. “But really, it would take more—What? Put what shovel down?”

The shovel put an end to that when it smacked his head with a thunk. Officer Tyler Dekker sank with a splat in the mud. The large shaggy dog howled. Walter whined. I screamed. “Uncle Kev, are you out of your mind? What have you done?”

I dropped to my knees to help. A person could drown in this mud.

Kev let his hurt feelings show. “What do you mean? This creep was going for you.”

“This creep as you call him is a police officer.”

“A cop? That’s even worse.”

“Kev, you don’t know what you’re talking about. He is the closest thing to a friend on the force that any Kelly or Bingham has ever had.”

“Jeez.”

“What are we going to do? He’s out cold.”

“Well, how was I to know?”

“I told you to put the shovel down.” Of course, I’d been talking to Uncle Kev. Part man, part vortex of destruction.

“I thought you were yelling at your attacker.”

“I didn’t have an attacker. I was
talking
to a friend who did not have a shovel. I told
you
to put it down.”

“An easy mistake to make,” Uncle Kev said peevishly.

“Not really. You had a shovel and he didn’t.”

“In the heat of the moment, things got confused.”

“No kidding,” I said, digging in my slicker pocket for the burner phone I’d taken from Uncle Mick’s. I prayed it wasn’t full of mud.

“What are you doing?” Kev said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m calling 911, and you definitely better take your own advice and hightail it before the cops show up.”

“But . . .”

“No buts. Hit the road, Uncle Kev. We’ll catch up later.” I pressed 911.

“A man has been attacked behind a house on Lincoln Way! Number 89 or 91. What? I don’t know if it’s north or south. It’s to the right. It’s a mud-brown house with a muddy lawn. You may hear dogs barking.”

Uncle Kev stood staring and listening to the one-sided conversation.

“Send an ambulance.

“He’s been hit on the head.

“With a shovel.

“I don’t know who hit him.

“I didn’t see the person’s face.

“Okay. Male. At least I think male. Between five-five and six-two, I think. Give or take.

“I didn’t see what color his skin was. It was dark. No, the area was dark, not the skin. I don’t know what color. I didn’t see his hair. I don’t even know if he had any. He may have been wearing a hat.”

Uncle Kev headed past me into the dark, slippery backyard and vanished into the gloom.

I shook Tyler Dekker’s shoulder. “Tyler. Tyler. Are you all right?”

He groaned, and that was a good thing.

“The ambulance is on the way. And probably the police are too. Are you on police business? Tyler? You don’t live anywhere near here.”

Another groan, followed by a moan and whispered words. I leaned forward. “What did you say?”

“No police.”

“What do you mean no police?”

“No police.”

“But Tyler, you are the police.”

He pushed himself up to a standing position. It looked slow and very painful. He leaned against the side of the house. “Not here I’m not and not tonight especially.” He closed his eyes and swayed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Call them back. Tell them . . . No, they’ll come anyway.”

“Yes, they will, and you need to go to the hospital and be seen to. You took a real slam with that shovel.”

He met my eyes. “Who slammed me?”

Okay, I just couldn’t rat out my uncle any more than I could abandon Tyler. “I don’t know. Some guy whose face I couldn’t see beaned you with a shovel.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you yelled at him. I heard you.”

“I saw him raise the shovel and I said no and I told him to put the shovel down.”

“And he beaned me?”

“Yes.”

He raised his hand, touched his head and winced.

“There’s blood on your hand,” I said. “I think. But it could be mud. Let me see.” I reached over and touched his head.

“I’m getting out of here.”

“What? No. Wait until the paramedics get here.”

“No can do. Gotta go. Take care of the dog.”

“The
dog
? Really? Oh, come on.”

As I stood there openmouthed, Tyler Dekker disappeared into the yard as well. I thought he turned in the opposite direction from where Uncle Kev had vanished. That was the only good thing. I turned and followed but found no sign of either one as I peered blearily around.

There was nothing to do but leash up Walter. The other large, shaggy dog seemed just as mystified as I was. Was this Tyler Dekker’s dog? If so, why would he have left it behind? Was he in worse shape than I thought?

“Can’t you find him?” I asked. “What’s the use of all you dogs if you can’t even locate an injured man?”

I heard sirens approaching and made a quick call to Uncle Lucky to tell him I was okay. He’d make himself scarce when the cops showed, as is the Kelly policy, unless he thought I needed help. I assured him I didn’t.

A siren whooped behind me on the street. I made my way to the sidewalk to meet the paramedics and, lucky me, the police.

A tall, heavyset police officer got out of a Town of Burton police cruiser. He did a double take as he spotted me, covered in mud, including my face and hair. All very
Night of the Living Dead
.

“Did you call in a disturbance, ma’am?” he said.

Another officer, who I took to be his partner, also approached and walked toward the back of the house. This one was short and on the skinny side.

“No,” I said.

“What happened to you?” He seemed to have a bit of trouble keeping a straight face.

“My dog ran off and I fell in the mud behind this house.” I pointed toward the brown house, which I had come to hate. “I don’t know if you can call that a disturbance.”

“And you didn’t make a 911 call?”

“It’s nothing a shower and shampoo won’t fix, Officer,” I said. “You might want to warn your partner that it’s slippery back there. I almost killed myself getting up once I fell in that mud.”

He looked as though he wasn’t entirely convinced. “We got a call that a man was attacked.”

“Attacked? Really?” I said.

“Did you see anything, ma’am?”

“Did the attack happen around here?”

“We got a call saying there was an attack at this address.”

I glanced around in alarm. “Now that’s scary.”

“The caller was a woman. She said that a man was attacking another man with a shovel in back of this house here.”

I said, “But I was just there.”

“Yes, ma’am. And did you see anything?”

“Just my dog being amused when I did the backstroke in the mud.” To reinforce my story, Walter panted wheezily, and as usual it sounded like the wickedest kind of laugh. The ridiculously shaggy dog that Tyler Dekker had left behind sidled up and looked sympathetic. He leaned in against my thigh. The cop snorted. Highly unprofessional in my opinion.

“No guys running by?”

“No.”

“No one—”

“Nothing, Officer.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“No. Well,
splat
.”

“Nothing else suspicious?”

“Nope. In fact, I . . . Oh, wait, you know, I yelled when I fell. I might have even cursed and swore a bit. And I grabbed at something to get myself out of the mud. I wonder if someone saw me and thought that I was a guy getting attacked.”

The cop scratched his cheek. “Hard to say.”

“It is possible. I thought I saw someone on the street, but they didn’t come near me. Maybe they called it in just to be on the safe side.”

“Guy would have to be pretty chicken for that.”

“I don’t think it was a guy. Looked more like a woman, although the visibility was really poor, especially from the mud puddle.”

“No details that you recall?”

What the heck? The man wanted details, so I decided to give him some. This was in direct conflict with the Kelly motto not to complicate things with unnecessary whoppers that can trip you up. “Well, I could be wrong, but I thought she had an umbrella with polka dots. Or it could have been some other repeating design. As I said, visibility was poor.”

“Anything else?” This guy was the reason my family didn’t like cops.

“No. I didn’t see anything else. I didn’t hear anything else. I’d really like to go home and take that shower now, if you don’t mind. And if I think of anything, I’ll be sure to call you, Officer.”

The other officer emerged from the back of the house and glowered. Unless I was mistaken, his knees were very muddy. He shook his head. “Nothing back there.”

I turned to leave when the first cop asked for my name. “Carly Jenkins,” I said, plucking the moniker from nowhere. “I’m staying with my cousin, over at 4 Madison.” I mumbled the four, just in case he followed up. It could always look like a mistake.

For the second time, I turned and began to limp off. No one tried to stop me.

Of course, Uncle Lucky was nowhere to be seen. Even though I’d told him to go, I felt abandoned. Every man I knew was vanishing that night. Except, of course, for the cop who insisted on doing his job instead of thoughtfully disappearing.

“You need a lift, ma’am? You’re limping.”

I turned back and flashed him my best smile. I can’t imagine how grotesque that looked in my mud-spattered face.

“No, thanks. It’s not far and I need to blow off steam. I don’t want to take this mood out on my cousin.”

He shrugged and turned to flash his light into the muddy yard. The other one said, “I’m telling you there’s nothing and nobody there.” They both seemed disappointed. I think “my” cop had liked the story about the woman with the umbrella who’d gotten all mixed up.

I glanced around as I made my way to the corner. My teeth were beginning to chatter and I felt a chill. There wasn’t much I could do in that state. Not the right time to try to get into the Adams house. The same went for speaking to Harry Yerxa. For the second time in the same day, I needed a hot tub and a signora special and I needed get out of the rain.

As soon as I got around the corner, I whipped out the cell and called Uncle Lucky. I knew he wouldn’t be far.

“Come and get me,” I chattered. “And your darling Walter. I’m on Jefferson Circle, just off Lincoln Way.” I didn’t mention that I was royally ticked off at Walter. After all, I was just about to make a mess of my uncle’s second favorite car. While I waited, I wiped off the burner phone and dropped it down the sewer. Just in case.

Uncle Lucky raised an eyebrow when I clambered into the Navigator with Walter. The eyebrow rose higher when the additional muddy dog hopped in.

“Long story,” I said. “Please get me somewhere warm and dry and away from this neighborhood full of mud, cops and crazy people.”

At that moment I couldn’t have cared less about the Adams family or Vera’s stupid collection.

Uncle Lucky turned on the heat, probably because he could hear my teeth chatter.

When I warmed up marginally, I said, “So, about Uncle Kev. Just so you know, he bashed Tyler Dekker on the head with a shovel and then he took off. You have met Tyler Dekker and so you are aware that he is a police officer, even though he’s not in this jurisdiction and he was not only in plain clothes but also definitely disguised. So you may want to think about working up some kind of alibi for Kev. I don’t know what Dekker was doing there. He wandered off too, but not in the same direction that Kev did. I think he was okay. I hope so. It’s sure been a crazy night.”

Lucky was quiet all the way to the Van Alst House.

“I appreciate this,” I said in a gentle tone. Uncle Lucky has always been a rock for me. “I know I’ve been a real nuisance, and I am really sorry about your car. I can get it detailed for you.” Uncle Lucky raised a substantial ginger eyebrow and gave me a look to indicate what he thought of that idea.

For the rest of the drive, even though the heat was on in the Navigator, I couldn’t shake the chill. Of course, none of the icy waves I felt were coming from my uncle. He was kind enough to keep both dogs with his usual lack of recrimination or any kind of comment.

“You’re the best, Uncle Lucky. Just want you to know that.”

He shrugged modestly. What a guy. I hated to push my luck, but I had no choice.

“Do you think someone could drop the Saab off in the morning? I’m going to have to get back to the Sayers biz tomorrow and I’ll be stuck at home without wheels.”

BOOK: The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery)
3.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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