Mind Your Own Beeswax (20 page)

Milwaukee, only thirty-some miles down the highway, had three local television networks—Channels 4, 6, and 12. And they were all represented outside the Moraine police station.

Hunter took a protective stance as soon as we came out of the building, drawing me in close, while I glanced around wondering who or what had drawn all the news cameras to our little burg.

And wasn’t it just the luck of the draw that I happened to get released right in the middle of all this action? Nothing like making a discreet exit after a police booking.

Before I could suggest to Hunter that we go back inside until this party and its lenses were gone, reporters started sticking microphones in my face and snapping pictures. That’s when I caught on that little old
moi
was involved somehow in the breaking news story. But no way would a small-time grocery store owner’s arrest draw this much attention from anything other than the local paper.

All I’d done was run from a big bully. That wasn’t news in my book.

Either Lori Spandle had engineered this in retaliation for destroying a sale, or this was P. P. Patti’s warped way of helping my cause.

“Throw something over my head,” I said to Hunter in a panic, thinking about how easily my mother was humiliated by my actions and how this couldn’t be much worse. “Give me your jacket. Quick.”

“Just stay close and ignore them,” Hunter suggested.

“Ms. Fischer. Can we get a statement?”

“What’s behind these charges?”

“We only want a moment of your time!”

“Is it true?”

Oh, right, like I was going to confess to breaking into Norm Cross’s house and right in front of a bunch of rolling cameras. I scowled and kept going, burying my face against Hunter, wanting to tear his jacket off his body. Lust had nothing to do with it, either.

Hunter had a good strong grip and wasn’t letting go. He smoothly rearranged me so that he and Ben were closest to the more aggressive reporters, with the canine partner playing defensive line.

Ben’s imposing presence and the intimidating gaze as he swept over the crowd worked because reporters and cameramen alike took big steps away from the large animal. I gave a silent cheer of gratitude for Ben.

Hunter opened the passenger side of his SUV, Ben and I jumped in, and as we pulled out I saw the mass of people turn back to the building, losing interest in us.

“What was all
that
about?” I said.

“Is anybody following us?”

I craned around. “No. Why would they?”

“Let’s go to my place. I’ll tell you all about it there.”

Hunter’s home was masculine, comfortable, and so tidy that, at first, I secretly suspected he had another woman on the side. No guy I’d ever known kept such a clean house. Not that I was complaining.

“What . . . is . . . going . . . on?” I asked, plopping down at Hunter’s kitchen table, emphasizing each word.

“In a minute.” I had to wait while Hunter started a pot of coffee. Then he came over.

“What happened to you?” he said, like he hadn’t really looked at me before right that minute. I’d completely forgotten about the rose thorn scratches on my face until he cupped my chin gently in his hand and turned my head from side to side, examining the damage. I was pretty sure he thought Johnny Jay did it. I decided not to inform him otherwise. I needed every advantage I could get.

“Johnny Jay assaulted me is what happened to me.” Then I stopped and considered. Hunter was a cop and in theory on the other side. “I’m sorry, but I shouldn’t tell you any more than that. I need an attorney.”

“For what? You haven’t been charged with anything.”

“WHAT?”
I practically screamed. “I was handcuffed and locked in a cell for hours. I thought you’d figured out how to bail me out.”

“You weren’t charged. You beat Johnny again.”

“This isn’t a competition between the two of us. It’s more like a free-for-all. He threw me on the ground, cuffed me, and arrested me for burglary.”

“He’s about to pay dearly for that,” Hunter said. What a guy! I thought. He’s going after the rogue police chief. I still couldn’t believe I was actually free and clear. “So I’m not in trouble?”

Hunter smiled. “Johnny Jay worked it from every angle but Norm Cross stood firm. I can’t believe you broke into his house.”

“I didn’t exactly break in.” I didn’t feel too bad about saying that, since technically Patti broke in.

“Anyway, Norm refused to press charges against you.”

“Really? That’s great news!” Then I thought of Norm’s dog, Dinky, and it took me a minute to remember that I’d left her at the store with Carrie Ann and Holly. They would take good care of her until I got back.

“So tell me about your little escapade at Norm’s,” Hunter said.

It didn’t take long, since I left out plenty, like how Patti started it and how I ran away. “That poster has me thinking,” I said at the end. “The captions are handwritten and they didn’t look masculine to me. What if Hetty made the poster?”

“Unlikely,” Hunter said, “that she and Norm would have pulled off Lantern Man together.”

“Just food for thought,” I said. “Whoever called the news media must have it in for me. It must’ve been Lori. She stood right there and watched Johnny Jay tackle me and didn’t lift a finger to help. In fact, she threatened my life.”

Hunter had an amused grin on his face when he shook his head. “Lori Spandle didn’t have anything to do with tipping off the news media. You’re going to love it. But wait. Something else happened next. After Norm refused to press charges against you, he came forward and finally admitted that he was Lantern Man.”

“Really? Wow.”

“I’d done some research into those records we talked about,” Hunter said, pouring coffee for me, fixing it just the way I liked it with cream and honey from a jar I’d left at his house. Last time he tried to get me to drink it with sugar. Yuck.

Hunter continued after handing me the cup. “I couldn’t find anything to substantiate whether or not he had been home during the camper attack or the night we were in The Lost Mile. We didn’t have a thing on him, but he confessed anyway.” He looked puzzled. “Sort of strange he chose now to step forward.”

“What will happen to him?”

“Not much. His only crime was destruction of personal property way back when he shredded those campers’ belongings. Statute of limitation ran out on that offense years ago. And he’s admitted he went overboard and has offered to pay the families involved for damaged property.”

“But he terrorized The Lost Mile.”

Hunter chuckled. “Not a crime.”

“Did he say why he did it?” That handwriting still bothered me.

“Only that he wanted to discourage kids from hanging out and drinking there. He thought he was doing a good thing.”

“We wouldn’t have been in The Lost Mile in the first place if Lantern Man hadn’t been scaring kids. We wouldn’t have had a dare to accept. Lauren might not have driven drunk. Johnny Jay’s dad might still be alive.”

“On the other hand, if we weren’t all afraid of Lantern Man, maybe we would have partied there all the time. But I still wonder why he decided to reveal his identity now.”

“I brought up Lantern Man to him,” I said, “which really made him mad. And you searched his house, so he knows you saw the poster and lanterns. It was only a matter of time before somebody caught on anyway.”

“There’s dirt all over your face,” Hunter said. “We better get you cleaned up.”

Hunter washed my face and applied an antibiotic cream. His touch felt nice. I was feeling better and better all the time. Except for my arms, which ached from being cuffed behind my back, and my legs weren’t used to running like I had, so they screamed out in pain. To top it off, my favorite shirt had grass stains all over the front and everybody knows they don’t wash out.

I rubbed a shoulder. “Something’s really wrong with Johnny Jay,” I said. “He’s been acting more aggressive and hostile than ever. It’s like he’s snapped.”

“That’s the real reason for the news crews. Patti Dwyre sent a video over the Internet to all the Milwaukee newsrooms, showing Johnny Jay beating up on you.”

“Nothing like police brutality to fire up the masses.”

“Apparently,” Hunter said, shaking his head in amazement. “But you seem to have survived the incident without too much internal or external damage.”

“I told you I was a big girl and could take care of myself,” I said, showing off.

“I could tell that was absolutely, indisputably true when I viewed the video. You really took care of him, the way you had him on the ground on top of you. Lots of technique in that trick.”

Hunter didn’t have to look quite so amused. After all, I’d been through a lot in spite of my boasting.

“Are you going to pursue charges against him?” Hunter asked. “You do have the upper hand.”

“Charges? Sure, right, and have Johnny Jay stalking me for the rest of my life?” Although it dawned on me I was already living that life.

“This is your big chance.”

“I have to think about it,” I said. Since I was into mixed emotions these days, I was happy and upset at the same time, relieved the world was about to see the real Johnny Jay, traumatized that my exploits were going to be on display for every nightly news watcher in our coverage area.

Friends, customers, family members.

I tried to remember all the details after Johnny Jay came around the corner of my house and tackled me, but things had happened so fast. Mostly I recalled eating dirt.

It felt really good to be sitting at Hunter’s kitchen table sharing coffee and conversation.

“What if Norm is covering up for his wife?” I asked, focused again on the poster.

“Why would he do that? If anything, wouldn’t he blame her for the whole thing? She’s dead and can’t defend herself against any charges he made.”

“That would be cold.”

“I agree.”

“But if Hetty was Lantern Man, well, I suppose that would make her Lantern Woman, wouldn’t it? That might explain why she was out in the woods at the same time as Lauren. That might help determine if someone was really after Lauren when Hetty heard voices out there and got in the way.”

“Story, Norm confessed.”

“I better think about getting back to The Wild Clover,” I said, giving up on that particular line of thought.

Ben deserved several liver treats for bravery beyond the call of duty, so I made sure he got them and finished another cup of coffee. “Do you think the store is safe from reporters?”

“No.”

“I have to get back.”

“That’s a really bad idea.”

“Let’s go,” I said, ready for anything.

Hunter was right, not that I would ever admit that to him. A Channel 4 news van crawled past The Wild Clover and was backing into a parallel parking space just as I bolted through the front door of my store.

“Jeez,” I thought I said to myself, very quietly, but instead I must’ve blurted it out pretty loud. All eyeballs shifted my way. “In a hurry,” I said, not stopping to chitchat.

Staff and customers stood gaping, their mouths flopping open when I ran past the checkout counter where Carrie Ann and my sister were standing (Did I look that bad?), then skidded down aisle six heading for the back storage room. I locked myself inside much to the delight of Dinky, who jumped down from the office chair where she’d been sleeping and clawed her way into my arms.

From safety behind the closed door, I called my sister’s cell phone.

“A news truck is outside,” I said. “Don’t let them in the store.”

“This is a public building. How am I supposed to stop them?”

“Good point. Okay. At least tell them I’m not here.”

“’K.”

“I’ll hide out back here until you call me back and say the coast is clear.”

“’K.”

Even before we hung up, I heard a sharp rap on the door. “Who’s at the door?” I said into the phone. “Make them go away.”

“It’s Ali Schmidt.”

“I don’t care if it’s the First Lady. Tell her to go away.”

“She knows you’re in there. She saw you run by.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, she’s applying for a job.”

“Really? Cool!” Music to my ears.

I unlocked the door, pulled Ali in, and relocked.

“What’s happening?” she wanted to know.

“Reporters. Stalking me. No big deal. Holly said you want to work here?”

“Yes, I do.” And Ali dove into a sales pitch that would have dazzled the manager of any national grocery line. She had a voice I was jealous of—husky and sexy. My cousin Carrie Ann had a husky voice, too, but hers was more gravelly, rough from years of smoking cigarettes. Ali’s voice . . . well . . . I always wished mine sounded like that.

Ali, it turned out, was qualified for
my
position, if I could believe everything she told me, which right now, didn’t matter in the least. Two arms and half a brain would have been all the qualifications she needed.