"Oh, Crapper the Cat died–the burglar didn't. I thought you had good news." Tom sighed.
"I do. The guy you hit last week just came out of surgery alive. He had a blockage and they were able to save him." J.J. sighed.
Mark added, "We did not kill him? How could that be?"
"My deputy tells me they revived him on the way to the hospital, and the doctors just now finished patching him up. He survived the surgery, but he's in serious condition."
"So we only have two murders on our heads and not three. Boy, I feel better, only two life terms." Tom stared at his coffee.
"No," I said, "Only one. The cat doesn't count."
J.J.'s cell phone rang again. "Green here–oh hi, Edie, what's going on at the office? They did? When?" J.J. checked his watch. "Okay, yes, I know we still have to prosecute, but still, that's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick any day. Yep, thanks, Edie, I sure will–bye now."
J.J. looked up at Tom and Mark. Tears welled in their eyes as Mark said, "Did the death toll just rise?"
J.J. shook his head in wonder. "That was my dispatcher Edie. She said she just got off the phone with the State of Illinois. Seems like they were able to get a fingerprint and DNA from pieces of the guy you blew up at Great America. Turns out he was on the FBI's
Most Wanted List.
They confirmed that he's an escaped serial killer from Joliet Prison, and the Feds have been following a trail of dead bodies for three months through six states trying to catch him. You two did in one afternoon by accident what top agents in the FBI have been trying to do for months. According to the Feds, you two idiots are national heroes."
A cheer went up from the now-standing-room-only diner. Sal himself slapped a couple of plates on the table and fired off something I couldn't understand. Tom and Mark thanked him and Tom leaned forward. "He said thank you and no charge for lunch because we are heroes twice in one day!"
The two men basked in the adoration of the crowd. J.J. looked around in amazement. "I never got a free lunch, and I've caught more criminals than you could shake a stick at!"
I smiled. "Get over yourself, Green–you never blew up a notorious serial killer before."
"This is White Bass Lake, Buzz, not New York City for God's sake! We're not exactly overrun with serial killers, in case you haven't noticed."
I leaned close. "Don't get your Superman cape in a bundle, James Joseph Green. Just because your nose is out of joint there is no reason to take it out on the rest of us."
J.J. stared broodingly into his coffee mug, searching for answers. I was just about to feel sorry for the crybaby when his gaze snapped up to mine. He gave me a sly look. "So, uh, Buzz, you think I wear a red cape, eh? You think I'm Superman?" He waggled his eyebrows at me.
I humiliated myself by blushing. "I think
you
think you're Superman, you lunatic. I took a huge gulp of hot coffee and nearly knocked myself out as the fire burned a path down my throat. I grabbed for napkins and slapped them over my mouth as coffee squirted out my nose. J.J.'s eyes twinkled in merriment as mine watered in pain. I snatched up my ice water and slugged down half the glass.
I discretely (as one can be in front of half the town) inspected my tongue in a spoon for damage when that jerk wearing a star said, "That's what I love about you, Lois Lane. Always at my phone booth when I need you."
"Thcrew yoo an yer thone booth, Thooper Jerk." I said around my sore tongue.
J.J. had the temerity to laugh at me, and I poked him in the ribs–hard. He threw an arm around my shoulders, clamped my neck in the crook of his arm, and gave me a giant noogie. I made choking sounds and pinched the tender skin of his triceps. He yelped and let me go. I held my broken ribs and gasped, tongue hanging out of my mouth.
Tom and Mark looked on like amused little old ladies watching their favorite grandchildren gambol in the backyard. They looked as likely to murder someone as Bozo the Clown.
"Green, focus here! What are you doing? We have an interview to finish."
"Lighten up, Miller, I have pie to finish. Here, taste this." He popped his fork into my open mouth. An explosion of blackberries tantalized my scorched taste buds. I began to file away the tart/sweet sensation when I heard a titter behind me.
I swung around to see the brave soul laughing at me. I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly as I gazed upon the collection of geriatric gossip mongers listening to the entire exchange.
Damn, they followed us.
Beaming smiles wreathed their beloved, but conniving faces. My mother, J.J.'s mom Silvia, their friends, Jane, Mary, and Joy, and my dad, who brought Jake, Elmer, and Old Bob Buford from the assisted living facility all crowded around a four-person table.
"Oh, no," I breathed as they closed in on our table. Chairs scraped, tables slid together, and I was painfully sandwiched between Mary's boney ass and J.J. I elbowed him again. "Didn't you just lock her up?"
"I never got that far because Ted came in and bailed her out. She has a court date on Tuesday."
"But why write her a ticket at all?" My mother shot J.J. a dirty look, "Geez J.J., I can't believe you did that! Shame on you."
"But, I–"
"James Joseph, you should be ashamed of yourself! Why, in my day–"
"B-but Mom…" J.J. stammered.
Mary grinned from ear-to-ear. J.J. leaned toward me and said, "Tell them or I will."
"Tell them what?" I stared at him innocently.
Mary gave him an evil grin. "Yes, J.J., tell them what?"
Dad said, "Come on, Mary, who wrote you the tickets for Indecent Exposure and Disturbing the Peace if J.J. didn't?"
As if a light bulb blinked on over the entire crowd, the word "Ted" rippled through the diner.
"That incompetent, sawed-off, doughnut eating constable wrote up his own mother?" My dad sounded flabbergasted.
Mary's dabbed her dry eyes with her napkin, playing it up big. "He surely did, Bill." She sniffed. "When I asked that little rat why he cited his own poor mother just for practicing for an audition, he called me a, a…" She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes for effect. "You tell them J.J." She sighed heavily and placed the back of her hand against her forehead. She leaned on my shoulder and her damn plastic tiara stabbed me in the neck.
J.J. drew a breath. "He told her she was–"
Mary jumped up, kneeled in my lap, and said in a stage whisper, "He told me I was a stinking cow and I had flat boobies!"
She moved forward, and my legs felt like they were impaled by those boney knees of hers. "Mary, my ribs!"
Mary backed off. "Oops! Sorry."
She continued her tirade without breaking stride. "Then he said something about bats and crows and he said I had a hairy butt!"
The bell over the door tinkled. The diner went silent for a split second, and then a booming voice said, "I did not call you a stinking cow, you crazy old bat! I told you that you wouldn't be
slinking
off
now
and that you needed to learn a lesson. I did not say you had, uh…flat, uh, you know, boobies, but that you are
flat
out
loopy,
mother!"
The crowd gasped. The senior women stood and started moving toward the hapless, brainless constable as he took one more stab at talking them out of a lynching.
"And another thing," he yelped, shaking his index finger. Scuttling backward, he tripped over a chair. "I was talking about that lousy hairy
mutt
of Buzz Miller's! I didn't say you had a hairy butt!"
Totally irritated and still dumb as a box of rocks, Dead Butz scuffed a toe on the floor, muttering to himself. "She's as kooky as she is deaf. I shoulda put her in a home a long time ago."
Realizing he'd just belittled his mother again, he jerked his head up, afraid to see if anyone else heard him. He figured correctly (for once) when he saw the other seniors closing in on him. Canes were raised and chairs thrown aside, Dead Butz backed slowly toward the door of the diner. He looked toward Mary for help, who now sat quietly beside me, arms folded and a smug little smile on her face. "That'll teach the little son-of-a-bitch to write
me
a ticket," she said out of the side of her mouth. I snorted coffee while Ted ran out the door and onto the sidewalk followed by Mom, Dad, and four or five others. J.J.'s mom threw the latch. My mom threw a bagel.
"Why, Mary Cromwell, you are positively evil!"
"Yes, Buzz dear, I am, but Teddy is too stupid to realize it. As long as he continues to treat me like a dotty old woman, I'll continue to act like a loony old lady, and he'll continue to threaten to commit me. It's the only thing he's good at anyway. Lord knows he stinks as Constable. We all shared a laugh.
"Oh look, there goes Bill and Gerry now."
I looked out the front window and saw my folks drive by in the one-ton dually. "That's funny," I said almost to myself.
"What's funny, Lois?" J.J. smiled at me.
"Knock it off, Clark Kent. Mom and Dad just drove by, and I swear I saw people in the back seat."
J.J. peered out the window. "People in the back see–oh, no! We looked at the empty seats across the table with a wide-eyed stare.
"Oh,
no
! They escaped! I tried to wiggle out the front door.
"Wha…what?" Mary looked at us blankly.
"Mark and Tom," we both yelled again, and took off out the back door of Sal's.
We jumped into the squad (J.J. jumped and I crawled, complaining the entire time) and tore down the street after my parents and the two escaped South American-wannabe-hit men. We scanned the streets looking for the truck, and I finally spotted it at the Pick-N-Save at the edge of town.
We threw equally puzzled looks at each other and pulled into the parking lot. We parked the squad a couple of spaces down from the truck, snuck up, and pulled open a door. Empty. No Mom, no Dad, no bad guys,
nada
.
We decided to look inside the store, so we split up at the door and took opposite aisles. I had to fight myself not to stop at the coupon machine. I spotted Luis and Mom making their way toward the registers with a loaded cart, and altered my direction in order to intercept them before they hit the doors.
I hailed J.J. on the way to the checkout line, and he headed through the crowds in my direction.
We met them as Mom almost finished unloading the cart, and Mark bagged the groceries, calmly as you please. J.J. went ballistic. "Where the heck did you guys think you were going? You were under arrest."
Mark's shoulders slumped and he bit his lower lip. Tom moved to stand next to him and I poked J.J. in the side. "Uh, J.J.? They weren't really under arrest yet, remember? We were just talking to them in the diner."
Tom spoke up. "Did you not want us to leave, Sheriff Green? Your mother kindly asked if we could help her shop. She wanted to buy the big bag of dog food, but she cannot lift it easily. She asked if we could um," He thought a moment. "Give her a hand, I think she said. My cousin and I will give her many hands. She is a nice lady."
Mark piped up. "She bought us ice cream for helping. Moosetracks."
I looked at Mom. She gave me a wide-eyed innocent stare and I shook my head. "Sounds like her. Well, you guys have to come back with us now, okay?"
Tom and Mark bounded to where we stood. Mark saluted J.J. "We are ready to face the song, yes?"
J.J. lifted his ball cap and scratched his head. "Music." At their confused expressions he said, "Face the music. I guess so, boys. Come on, let's go."
Tom tapped me on the shoulder. "So what happens to us, now?"
Mark looked longingly at Mom's groceries. "Will we be done before the ice cream melts?"
I opened my mouth to try to explain when a deep, heavily accented voice said from behind me, "You want to know what happens now? Now
amigo
, you will die."
It was like E.F. Hutton had entered the grocery store. No one spoke, no one breathed. Tom and Mark were shaking and had their hands in the air. J.J. stared over my shoulder, and I dared not move.
With arms held away from his body and palms facing whoever stood behind me, J.J. broke the silence. He spoke softly and his eyes never wavered from whoever was back there.
It was as if he and the foreign man were the only ones in the room. "Sir, whatever your business is with these men, it can be worked out. Please lower your weapon and step outside with me. We can discuss anything you want, but let's step outside and speak."
The rumbling voice again spoke. "They come, too. Are any of you the scientists from Lima?"
Mark blurted, "Reymundo, they are not here but what are you doing out of the hospi–"
I automatically reached out to touch Mark's arm, and in doing so turned to my right. I was about to shush him when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and felt cold steel rest against my temple. I moved only my eyeballs and wished I hadn't when I stared into the flat black eyes of a man who was obviously very comfortable with the thought of murdering strangers.
I didn't dare speak, and J.J. tried again to convince the huge assassin to put down the weapon and follow him outside. My Mom made a small noise and the assassin's attention swung in her direction.