Shay O'Hanlon Caper 03 - Pickle in the Middle Murder (20 page)

Forty minutes later, JT and I were seated at Eddy’s kitchen table with Eddy, Coop, Kate, and Anna. Eddy’s friend Agnes was busy holding down the café. She wasn’t particularly competent, and I had to admit the thought of her working the counter gave me the jitters. It was a good thing we’d be done here soon.

With Coop’s and Eddy’s help, JT and I put the entire story together for a flabbergasted and appalled Anna and Kate.

Throughout the tale, Eddy periodically exclaimed and slapped the tabletop, making both the silverware and me jump. “You are a little spitfire, girl,” Eddy said to JT.

JT looked more relaxed than I’d seen her since I brought her home the night before. Her eyes were no longer angry obsidian or smoky with shame. They were warm and full of affection for the people seated around the table. When her gaze fell on me, the love that emanated from her cut into my very soul.

I thought, too, that it was a good thing JT had a chance to talk to everyone about Krasski and Maria. She was able to see firsthand that the only reaction each and every one of them had was of understanding and respect. I still didn’t get why my perfectionist of a cop had been unable to see that.
Well
, I thought smugly to myself as I scooped up another piece of Italian Stallion,
that attitude was long overdue for a change
.

I’d taken a big bite and was chewing away when Dawg wandered in, snuffling for a handout. He wiggled over to me, and I put my non-pizza-filled hand on his warm head.

“Where’s Bogey?” Eddy asked.

Anna said, “When I left the Hole, he was sprawled in front of the fire. By the way, Shay, Eddy’s going to cover the rest of my shift so I can go home and study.”

I waved a hand at her. “No problem, bookworm. Agnes can hang out and help her. By the time Eddy gets behind the counter, Agnes’ll probably be so wired from espresso shots she’ll be up for the next three days.” Agnes had a good heart, but vodka and more recently espresso were her two downfalls.

Dawg poked me in the belly with his nose, and I snuck him a pizza crust. I was about to snitch another one from Eddy’s plate when Bogey came trotting in, which wasn’t remarkable except for the fact he had a big red ball on the end of his snoot. He sneezed and wagged his head, trying to dislodge the thing.

“What is that?” Eddy asked.

“Bogey, come here.” Coop put the piece of pizza he’d been stuffing into his mouth on his plate, licked his fingers, and patted his thigh. Bogey ambled over to him. Coop grabbed the ball and pulled it off, much to Bogey’s relief. The dog snerfed and shook himself. Coop turned the object over as he examined it. “It looks like a ball you attach to something. An antenna, maybe?”

Before we could delve deeper into the mystery of the red ball, Rocky bounced in, his arms full of bulging bags. “Thank you for inviting me for pizza, Shay O’Hanlon. I was busy Facebooking with my lovely Tulip last night. Deciding wedding things.” He handed each of us a bag.

I opened mine. In it was a red and yellow striped cloth and a pair of huge, red, oversized shoes that Ronald McDonald might wear. I tugged the cloth out of the bag and held it up. It was a jumpsuit. A very large jumpsuit.

“What—” I began, and then I saw that each of us had funny-looking shoes along with striped jumpsuits in various colors. JT and I exchanged mutual looks of horror.

Rocky clapped his hands. “It is for Tulip. Her dad was a clown. So I decided we are going to have a clown wedding. On Saturday in the Rabbit Hole so we can let all of the customers know and they can be there too.”

I croaked, “A clown wedding?” Oh my god, I’d completely forgotten about Tulip and the I do’s.

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Rocky giggled with glee. “The Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Clown College has been in existence since 1968. Almost one thousand three hundred clowns have graduated since then.” He hopped up and down a couple of times. “I will be a clown for my lovely Tulip. And so will you.”

Where was my Effen Vodka when I needed it?

April McGuire, Back Porch Studio

About the Author

Jessie Chandler is a board member-at-large of the midwest chapter of Mystery Writers of America and a member of Sisters in Crime. In her spare time, Chandler sells unique, artsy T-shirts and other assorted trinkets to unsuspecting conference and festival goers. She is a former police officer and resides in Minneapolis. Visit her online at JessieChandler.com.