Totally Fishy (A Miller Sisters Mystery) (38 page)

J.J. chuckled as he swung open the front door. "Uh, Buzz, I think it's for you."

I leaned over to greet my mom. "Yo Ger–" No further words came out as Luis and Alfredo were shoved through the door followed by a very large man with an equally large gun.

"Tell me where they are," the giant demanded.

I struggled forward and J.J. tried to hold onto my shirt. "May I help you, sir? I believe you are in the employ of Hector Chavez, am I correct?"

He raised the gun to my face. "What would you know about it? I'm here for the two docs and these two pieces of dead meat." He gestured to Luis and Alfredo as they huddled together on the floor. Alfredo had blood seeping from his lower lip and Luis had a black eye.

I figured the bruises were part of the persuasion the hit man had used on the Gallegos brothers to find us. I tried for negotiation tactics, but it came out bitch. "Hey, Buddy, your boss is in jail, and your mission has been cancelled. Call him if you don't believe me. We just got back from making sure he went away, so lose the gun before you rack up murder charges, eh?"

He leveled a look at me and said in a dead voice, "Where are the scientists, Big Mouth?"

J.J. took a step forward and the giant shot the floor at his feet. Splinters flew up from the wood floor and the giant's face split into an evil grin. "Don't move law man." At J.J.'s frown the giant said, "Yeah, I know all about you crazy people. You and the big mouthed Bitch must be the cops."

He gestured off to the side toward Sam and Fred. "One of them is the girl doc, so the other doc has to be close by."

Fred held out her cell phone. "Call your boss, sir. Call South America and you'll see that this mission is over. Use my phone. Please, just do it."

I looked over at the house phone and saw that it was off the hook. Fred must have dialed 911. I hoped Edie would understand the danger as she sent J.J.'s deputies, Moe, Larry, Curly, and Shemp over here.

I instantly had another thought,
Ted!
It meant that our bumbling, incompetent constable, Dead Butz would hear the call, and if he heard it, so would his mom. Mary would call Mom, and Mom would call Jane and Joy.

I barely had time to finish the thought when I heard the roar of an engine coming down my road. A red Crown Victoria with blue hair at the wheel could barely be seen over the dash. The Crown Vic's tires squealed as the huge car skidded sideways at the entrance to my driveway.

"What the hell is this?" The hit man stared out the window.

A scrawny leg kicked the driver's door open and Mary Cromwell hopped out of her car. She held a basket and the smell of bread wafted through the front door. The passenger door and the two back doors also popped open and the rest of the Senior Women's Action Team followed Mary to the front door. Mom carried a large salad bowl and Jan had a big grocery bag. Joy dragged a cooler behind her and Dad stepped out eating a brownie.
Oh crap, they were listening to the scanner!

"Welcome home, Buzz," Mary squawked. "Time for a party!"

The giant grumbled and tucked his gun under his jacket as the little old ladies bustled past him on their way to the kitchen. He leaned toward me. "One word and I'll waste the old girls where they stand."

Mary winked as she passed me. "We'll get the food set up, Buzz. You just entertain your guests."

"Ah I, uh what..." I said as I watched my mom wink at Fred before she disappeared into the kitchen.
They know
,
but they sure aren't very subtle
.

The giant squared his shoulders. "Now just a damn minute; I got business here to tend to." He reached for his gun as another car pulled into the driveway.

Mark and Tom tumbled out of the beat-up Cooper and Tom addressed the giant. "Hey, Reymundo, looking for us?"

Mark added, "Didn't anyone tell you the war is over?"

The giant we now knew as Reymundo turned toward Tom and Mark. "I knew I'd find you incompetent little bastards sooner or later, but how do you know me?" He raised his gun.

Tom stepped forward. "I called my friend at our local newspaper office when I learned the name of your boss. He gave me the names and descriptions of his known murder-for-hire guys. You answered to the name I picked. Not bad for a moron, eh?" Reymundo was so confused, he forgot to keep his weapon raised.

Behind us the kitchen door blew open and the Blue Hairs rushed out armed and hilarious. They stood abreast like a showdown from the old west, trying for menacing and achieving comical. Dressed in muumuus and combat boots, clutching .44s in their hands, it was truly a Kodak moment. Reymundo froze, stunned. He stood gaping at the spectacle before him.

From behind me came a rumble which grew into a roar. I barely opened my mouth to yell when a black rocket flew past J.J. and me, and blasted Reymundo from the rear with 160 pounds of enraged Wesley. Hill followed and grabbed his upper thigh in her famous Bulldog Chomp.

A squad car bumped over the curb and skidded to a stop in the front yard as chunks of mud and sod flew in all directions. Moe and Larry tumbled out behind the squad doors, shotguns resting on the open windows. J.J. joined Wes on top of the bad guy and wrestled the gun away from him. I dropped to my knees between his shoulder blades and when I looked up, I stared down the shaking barrels of four .44 caliber revolvers. Mom, Jan, Joy, and Mary stood over us with their weapons drawn and their eyes narrowed. It was truly a frightening sight. I understood why Reymundo stared.

Moe and Larry jumped from behind the squad doors and cuffed the screaming Reymundo. "Dirty Harry Mary" kept booting him in the side, yelling,
"Go ahead, punk, make my day."
Armand finally grabbed her around the middle and carried her kicking and screaming back into the kitchen.

Hilary drew blood, and Wesley's jaws had to be pried off the back of Reymundo's neck. The deputies carted the sobbing hit man off to jail. I was so proud of my puppies I gathered them close and cried into their fur. Hill blinked up at me and Wes grinned and wagged his tail.

Luis and Alfredo's friends, Tom and Mark, stood off to the side, scuffing the sidewalk with their shoes. I looked up at J.J., who stared intently at them. Tom noticed and hit Mark on the arm. They put their heads close together to say something and as one straightened and moved forward toward J.J.

Mark bit his lip and looked up at J.J. Tom cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Sir, um, we are under arrest."

I didn't realize I had grabbed Fred's arm until she winced. I let her go.

J.J. eyed the two men coolly. "I beg your pardon?"

Mark pulled at his collar and spoke this time. "We would like to be under arrest, please."

J.J. looked at me and calmly opened the rear door of the squad. With a flourish, he bowed and said, "Gentlemen, step into my office. Could you at least give me a hint as to why I should be arresting you?"

Tom cleared his throat again and turned toward J.J. "Yes, sir, we can…It is murder."

Everyone gasped.

J.J. sighed and looked skyward. He leveled a look at the two men and opened the rear door of the squad. "Gentlemen, you have the right to remain silent…"

31

I tossed my keys to Fred and climbed into the squad next to J.J. We drove in silence, and I was surprised when we passed the Sheriff's office. I must have looked confused, because J.J. patted my knee and said, "I'll tell you in a minute."

He pulled into the parking lot of Sal's Diner. Now I
was
confused. J.J. said in a low voice over the roof of the squad, "Calm down, Buzz, they're not going anywhere; they came to us–remember?"

He met me at the rear of the squad. "I haven't decided if I have to arrest anyone yet, and I think they'll be more comfortable talking in here rather than the office, don't you?" He placed a friendly arm around my shoulders and turned me toward Sal's. "Besides, I really need a cup of coffee, don't you? Sal will want to be in on the gossip anyway."

He left me standing with my mouth hanging open as he opened the door of the squad so Mark and Tom could get out.

J.J. made a show of dusting off his hands and smiled. "Let's have some coffee and talk, shall we gentlemen?" He gestured toward the diner with a sweep of his hand.

Tom and Mark looked at each other, and then at me. They looked as if they should have had those little cartoon bubbles over their heads that said, "
Huh?
"
Wearing matching bewildered expressions, they followed J.J. like sheep to the slaughter. I walked last through the door. Looking around the crowded room I spotted several people who would call my mom and J.J.'s in about thirty seconds. Lovely, I thought again; the special at Sal's today is going to be mutton.

J.J. weaved his way through the dining area toward a booth in the far corner. Mark and Tom sat restlessly in their seats, each looking a little grey. They sat across from J.J. and me, and two more forlorn individuals I had never seen. By mutual consent, they told us they decided they could no longer pretend to be paid assassins because, as Mark put it, "We really suck at it."

Tom agreed, his head bobbing. "We suck for sure. How can people kill for a living? I killed one bad guy for sure, maybe even two, and I cannot eat or sleep! Luis and Alfredo are our friends, and poor little kitty…" He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, "What are we going to do?"

They sat in silence for a moment as Donna approached their table and filled their coffee mugs. She smiled and said in a booming voice, "I know what you can do."

Mark and Tom stiffened. Wide eyed, they slowly looked up at the smiling waitress as they waited for the other shoe to drop. Donna plopped the coffee pot on the table and put her hands on her hips. "When you go back to South America, take Sal with you. That way he'll be out of my hair for a while. He needs a really
looong
vacation." She laughed heartily at her own joke, and a few customers joined in.

"Why does he need a vacation?" Tom stared at us blankly. I rolled my eyes, because I'd heard about Thursday Night Football the night before, and knew what was coming.

Donna slid a glance toward Sal and quipped, "The Chicago Bears lost again last night and the quarterback broke his ankle. Sal has been crying into the eggs all morning. He's in desperate need of long-term 'The-Bears-Blew-Another-Season' counseling."

The diners guffawed and Sal threw his arms into the air in obvious distress. Bits of egg and ham flew off the end of the spatula as Sal muttered to himself. Doug Ryan calmly placed his hand over his coffee cup as the egg flew in his direction. He never broke stride in his conversation as the fluffy projectile plopped onto the back of his hand. He tipped it sideways and dumped the egg onto the table.

Donna snatched up her coffee pot and chirped, "See what I mean?" She spun on her heel and called, "Enjoy," over her shoulder as she continued her one-woman stand-up routine, all the while pouring coffee and taking orders.

Mark smiled after Donna and sighed softly. "This is a really nice place, Tom. These are nice people. We have new friends and I have a new family and a horseshoe tournament next Friday. For the first time in our lives, we almost belong to something good."

"Not for long, though. We're going to die soon," Tom said and sighed morosely. "If the Bad Guy Boss does not kill us first, we will rot in jail here then be deported and killed later in South America."

"Chavez is in jail, gentlemen." At the look of bewilderment, he explained that Hector Chavez, their "boss" was finished in South America. The looks of confusion turned to elation and I felt sorry for them.

J.J. pushed the hat back on his head and scratched his forehead. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but murder is still illegal, even if you knock off a bad guy. You recklessly endangered the lives of two innocent men, and inadvertently killed a criminal. One act does not justify the other."

I picked up the conversation. "The town sees you as heroes for the stunt at the bank. Between the dead cat and the dead burglar, everyone in town has something to be happy about, but once again, you jeopardized the lives of–"

J.J.'s cell phone rang. "Green, here. Phil? Phil who? Oh, Larry, the deputy–good. Yeah, go ahead, Larry, what's up? No kidding, the bank guy? I did not know that. He what? Well, that's good news. No, no, shackle him to the bed anyway, and you take the first watch since you're already there. Can you get a hold of Moe, Shemp, and Curly and work out a schedule for the watch between the four of you? I'll check in later. Yeah, thanks, Moe. Bye now."

He clicked the phone shut and stared at it for a moment. When he looked up I saw it in his wry expression. Before he could speak I said, "The burglar didn't die, did he?"

J.J. looked at me and shook his head. "How
do
you do that?"

"I read you like a book, Green. Geez, who else would you have been talking to the deputy on the bank caper about, the damn crapper cat? And by the way, you were talking to Larry, not Moe."

"I was talking about the cat."

Tom perked up. "The cat, he is alive?"

Mark said, "The cat crapped?"

"No, the burglar," J.J. replied.

"The burglar crapped?"

"No! The burglar didn't crap, and the cat is still dead. The burglar is alive."