What should have been a fifteen minute ride to Caesar’s house seemed to take forever. While Godiva battled L.A. traffic, Goldie kept dialing Caesar’s number, but each time his voice mail answered.
“Goldie,” Godiva said, “are you sure you’re calling the right number? Ricky said Caesar was in the house.”
A slight trace of annoyance crept into Goldie’s voice. “Of course it’s the right number, unless you have the wrong one programmed into your phone. I’m pressing five for speed dial just like you told me to.”
“Okay, why don’t you try calling Sterling on his cell? Maybe the old dear actually remembered to turn it on. I think he worries about alien sound waves, or something.”
Nellie interrupted from the back seat. “Look you two, while you’re trying to get them, why don’t I call Ricky? You have his number, don’t you?”
Nellie dialed as Godiva dictated the number.
Impatiently stomping on the gas pedal, Godiva thought if she speeded up she could make it into the next lane where the cars were zipping along. Just at that moment, a big blue truck filled with tools pulled alongside her and she clipped its bumper with a resounding “whack!” The three women watched in awe as the front bumper of their Town Car flew over the truck and landed on the parkway with a loud clatter. Traffic came to a halt all around them.
“What the…”
Goldie’s voice sounded a little shaky. “Umm…Sis, you hit the truck next to us. Guess we better get out and see how bad it is.” They stood in the middle of the road and stared at the bumper still teetering back and forth on the grass.
The other driver got out of his truck, looking a bit dazed. Aside from a little dent where their bumpers kissed, he and his truck didn’t seem to be any worse for wear. He looked concerned. “Are you ladies okay?”
Before anyone could answer, he squinted at Goldie and said, “Hey, wait a minute, I saw your picture on the back of a bus. Don’t you write some kind of newspaper column?”
Goldie shook her head and pointed to Godiva who was now walking around the car. “Oh, that’s my sister. She’s the writer.”
Nellie stepped between them. “Look, we have an emergency here. The twins’ mother is in great danger and Godiva is really upset. That’s probably why she wasn’t paying full attention. Can you guys just exchange information so we can get going? Every minute counts.”
He smoothed his thinning brown hair over an obvious bald spot and gave them a sympathetic look. “Well, I’m not hurt and there actually isn’t much damage to my truck, although…”
Godiva came up beside him. “Although my bumper is over there on the grass and it looks like that’s our biggest problem at the moment.”
He seemed to consider that and said, “Look, lady, some people would really give you a hard time and lawyer up. You weren’t looking, you know. On the other hand, I think my wife reads your column.” Then he walked around her car.
Godiva turned on every ounce of her charm. “Thanks so much for your understanding, Mr…”
“Chet Banger. No comments please. This time you’re the banger.” He slapped his knee and let out a big guffaw.
While giving him her best smile, she said, “Look Chet, maybe I’ll write a special column about the kindness of strangers. I’ll put your name in if you want me to.”
“Nah. Don’t use my name, but you’ll have my address. Why not just send me an autographed picture for my wife. Her name is Hannah.” He ran his hand along the small dent in his bumper. “Ya know, if you don’t want a black mark on your insurance, I have a buddy who can probably fix this for a pretty reasonable price…”
“That would be great. I’m really worried about my mother and I’ll include a little extra for you if you can figure out a way for us to get going. Here, I’ll write all of the information on the back of my card.”
Chet fiddled in his pocket and brought out a slightly crumpled card of his own. He took her pen, scribbled some information on the back, and handed it to her. She read the front out loud, “Banger’s the Best… If it’s broke, call Chet. Are you a handyman or something?”
“Yep, in fact I’m so handy, I just figured out how to get you ladies back on the road.” He walked over to the bumper and picked it up as though it weighed nothing. He pointed to Goldie and Nellie. “If you two will open the back doors, we’ll just maneuver it into the back seat somehow and you can drive off.” He looked it over and said, “My friend might even be able to bang out the dents and fix it.” Then he looked Godiva up and down and added, “But I’m guessing you’ll want a new one.”
They jockeyed the cumbersome bumper back and forth until it was finally secure in the back seat, with one end of it extending out of the rear side window. Because Nellie was the slimmest and most agile, she volunteered to wiggle in and share the space with the bumper.
He called after them, “I’ll send ya the bill. Don’t forget the picture, and I hope your mother’s okay.”
Goldie said, “You lucked out, Godiva. Let’s get out of here.”
They turned a few heads as the Town Car continued along Sunset Boulevard with its bumper sticking out of the side window. By the time they came to Carolwood Drive and approached Caesar’s house, the street was filled with flashing red lights, large men in motorcycle gear, distraught neighbors and detectives from the LAPD.
At first, two of the officers eyeballed them suspiciously and wouldn’t let them turn onto the street, saying it was a crime scene and only residents were allowed to pass.
“Omigod,” gasped Godiva. “Did anyone get hurt—”
Goldie chimed in, “Or killed? My mother and uncle are in there, you know.”
“And my boyfriend, too,” said Godiva.
At that point, Nellie poked her head around the bumper and called out to one of them, “Officer McPherson, is that you?” He whipped around, surprised to see Captain McNab’s wife. She said, “Listen, McPherson, you’ve got to tell me. What happened in there?”
“Well, ma’am, I’m not supposed to say anything, but seeing it’s you, Miz McNab, I guess it’s okay to assure you that no one’s been killed. Outside of a couple bumps and bruises, everyone’s fine.”
They got out of the car just in time to see the two Russian goons and a smaller stocky man being led out of the house in handcuffs.
Goldie tugged at Godiva’s sleeve. “Omigod, Sis, I can’t believe it. Do you know who that shorter one is? That’s Rimsky. What’s he doing here?”
THIRTY FIVE
As the twins and Nellie walked toward the front door, two uniformed officers approached them. The heftier of the pair held up his hand. “I’m sorry, ladies, you can’t go in.” His arm swept the courtyard, which was still filled with assorted bikers and cops. The police cruiser, with Rimsky inside, started to pull out of the circular driveway. “As you can see, this is a crime scene. How did you get past my officers, anyway?”
He was interrupted by his partner, a young man with a shock of sun-bleached hair who didn’t look old enough to be a cadet, let alone a uniformed cop. “I think it’s okay, Mike,” the baby-faced cop said in a surprisingly authoritative tone. He gestured at Nellie and said a little louder than necessary, “I guess you didn’t recognize Captain McNab’s wife.”
Goldie put her arm around Godiva and addressed the younger cop. “You know those two old folks inside? They’re our mother and uncle. And my sister’s boyfriend is Chef Romano. Please, you have to let us go in—we’re so worried about all of them.”
Just then, Flossie wobbled to the partially open front door with Sterling right behind her. She clutched the doorframe and poked her head out. Godiva noticed she wasn’t wearing her glasses. Steadying herself against the door, Flossie called out, “Oh, it’s my dear girls! I’m so happy to see you.” She put her hand to her face and felt around where her glasses should have been. “Well, actually, I can’t see you very well at all, but I sure can hear you.”
Goldie sprinted up the stairs and gave her mother a bear hug. “Oh, Mom, we were so worried about you.” Then she noticed Flossie sported a real shiner. She touched her mother’s cheek gently. “What have those ruffians done to you? You’ve got a black eye and a cut on the side of your face.”
Flossie fingered her brow and winced. She balled her hands into fists and threw a mock one-two punch. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy!” She looped her arms through those of her daughters and tut-tutted, “Black eye, schmack eye. It’ll heal up. Just wait’ll we tell you what happened.”
Sterling shook his head as if to say,
Your mother and her crazy ideas
.
Waggling her finger at the fuzzy image of her brother-in-law, the twins’ mother chattered away. “Your uncle and I were just like a pair of comic book heroes, weren’t we Sterling? You see girls, I got this idea for a real doozy of a trick to—”
Sterling harrumphed. “You and your ideas will get us killed some day, Flossie. I don’t know how you manage to talk me into them.”
Godiva shook her head, looking at the broken glass in the front door. In spite of the ordeal, Flossie was radiating excitement and seemed much younger than her eighty-one years. Even though Sterling leaned heavily on his cane, there was also a spring in his step.
“What am I going to do with you two? You’re worse than a pair of wayward teenagers.”
Nellie patted Godiva on the arm. “I know what you mean. Harley’s folks are a handful too. They’re in their mid-eighties and, of all things, they’ve taken up skydiving. I worry about them every day. But my mother-in-law just says, ‘I used to be afraid that sky-diving might kill me, but now that I’m so close, I figure, what a way to go!’”
The group made their way to the living room, carefully stepping around the mess in the long entry hall. Caesar settled Sterling into an easy chair and brought an ice bag for the bump on his head and a cool damp cloth for Flossie’s wounds. Then he sat on the sofa next to Flossie and dropped his head into his hands. Two LAPD officers, still in the house, continued to wrap things up.
In a voice filled with fury, Godiva shouted, “Caesar, how could you do this? You knew the house was under surveillance. You knew those thugs were going to come after the samovar and still, you allowed my mother and uncle to be in this dangerous situation.” She raised a balled fist in his direction. “Caesar…NO ONE but you was supposed to be in the house. You all could have gotten killed.”
He raised his head and flashed an apologetic half-smile, holding his hands up in protest. “
Cara mia
,
I know you’re mad at me, but that isn’t quite how it happened. Just let me tell you—”
Sterling broke in. “Listen girls, your mother and I take full responsibility. First we lied to you about going to dinner and a movie. Heck, I have no idea what movies are playing at the Beverly Center tonight, but it sounded good. Then we bullied Caesar into letting us come over because Flossie hatched a clever plot to catch the villains.”
“Yeah, and it would have worked, too,” said Flossie, “if it wasn’t for that other guy. I thought there were only two.”
“And what about the motorcycle gang! Where did they come from, anyway?” croaked Sterling. “I almost peed my pants when they revved things up.”
“Well Mom,” Goldie said, “you won’t believe it, but I know who the third guy is. He’s Rimsky…the fellow who takes care of Father Innocent back in Juneau. Belle said he disappeared a few days ago. When she told me the church ladies couldn’t find him, I didn’t think anything of it. After all, I hardly know him, and he struck me as a kind of stupid guy. I have no idea how he’s involved in all of this or if he even knows the Dumkovskys.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Sterling snorted. “That guy is one smart cookie and he’s after the samovars, too. He got here first, disguised as a Food Broadcasting messenger. When those two other goons broke in, they did seem to know each other. If I remember right, they called him by name.” He readjusted the icepack, positioning it around the spot where Rimsky hit him with the gun. Although he made a point of appearing to tough it out, a small groan escaped.
After that, everyone started to talk at the same time. Finally Caesar put two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. “Stop, stop. This isn’t getting us anywhere. Settle down and let me tell all of you what happened.”
The twins sank down into the lounge chairs on either side of the fireplace and stared at him stony-faced. Nellie pulled up a side chair. Both officers stopped what they were doing and stood a little closer, arms akimbo, waiting for Caesar to start.
He cleared his throat, and then cleared it again, stalling for time. When he cast a hopeful glance at Godiva, she did not smile back at him. “Well, like your uncle said, the shorter guy got here first. He’s a mean one, that…that... What is it, Ritzsky?”
Goldie’s voice dripped icicles. “Rimsky.”
“Anyway, Sterling told him I didn’t have the samovar, but he was still demanding that I give it to him when your Dumkovskys smashed the window. As soon as they came face-to-face, Sterling is right…they recognized each other. Then it got pretty rowdy with all of them shouting at each other in Russian.”
“Cursin’ each other, if you ask me,” Sterling said under his breath.
Flossie reached over and patted Caesar’s knee. “You’re not telling the whole story. You left out the part where the first guy pretended he had papers from your studio.”
“We said he got here first, dressed like a messenger,” he answered through clenched teeth.
“Yes, but you didn’t say how he got into the house.” She smiled triumphantly at her daughters. “Pretty clever saying he needed a signature. While Caesar went to the door, your uncle and I waited in the dining room.”
Sterling perked up, “At least we got to sample that wonderful dish you made. You should take a taste, girls.”
“It was good wasn’t it? I used some vegetables, veal…I was thinking of naming it after you,
Cara Mia
.”
“Enough, Caesar! Sure it was good,” Flossie said, “but we were about to tell you our scheme to catch the crooks when that
schlemiel
barged in. Instead of dazzling you with how clever we are, we see this guy with a gun shoved in your back pushing you down the hall.”