Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom (26 page)

“The Wilkies must have
snatched them. That explains why the gang had such an easy time of
breaking in here. They have a set of inn keys,” he groaned,
plunking himself down on the sofa. “Oh man.”

“Tomorrow, I’m marching
down there and I’m going to....”

“No, you’re
not.”

“I most certainly
am!”

“Scarlet, take a
breath. You need to think this through. Work with
me.”

“Work with you? The
only work I want to do is a tap dance all over that
skunk!”

“Big picture,” he said.
“Step back and think for a moment. These guys are breaking in here
with a set of keys, and that’s pretty bad, but who paid them to do
that?”

“They’re being
paid?”

“I’m pretty sure they
are. They have a game plan; otherwise, why keep coming back here? I
don’t think this is about what happened in high school. Someone
hired them to ruin the Four Acorns Inn. Now that we know who’s
doing the heavy lifting, we can use this to uncover the identity of
the brains behind the operation.”

“But why can’t we have
them arrested?”

“Do you want whoever is
doing this to you to hire someone else? Sure, Kradic and Zarelli
are creeps, honey, and they definitely need to answer for what they
did, but I think it’s more important to find out what’s going on
and why. These guys are small fries. We want the big
fish.”

“We do?” I was already
feeling the wind go out of my sails. He nodded.

“We
do.”

“I suppose,” I sighed.
“But I’d still like to kick his....” I didn’t get a chance to
finish that sentence. Kenny was nibbling on my neck, and at the
rate he was moving towards my ear, I was likely to be occupied for
some time.

January trotted over to
me and pawed my knee. I leaned over and tickled her chin. “Is it
time for a tinkle, little girl?”

We took the dogs out
and walked them on the sidewalk, making a loop around the
neighborhood, our heads bent in quiet conversation. Kenny had
already rejected my idea of changing all the locks at the Four
Acorns Inn.

“Not necessary,” he
insisted. “The other day, Max and I set up video cameras to monitor
the exterior doors and the interior hallways. It lets us keep tabs
on what rooms they visit when they sneak into the
inn.”

“So?”

“So what,
Scarlet?”

“Whose room did the
creep enter a little while ago?” I demanded. I got a shrug in
return.

“Max knows,” Kenny
replied. “He’s the guy on watch at the moment.”

“That’s probably why he
was so rude to me,” I decided, almost willing to forgive his cranky
commands. “He thought I’d blow it and start a
scene.”

“More like blow up and
start a scene,” Kenny corrected me.

“What?”

“Well, you have been
known to do such things in the past.”

“I beg your pardon,
Captain Peacock!” I retorted, poking him in the side. “Are you
suggesting I’m a hot head?”

“Might I remind you of
your behavior all through dinner?” he pointed out. “You could have
opened spa with all that steam you were spouting.”

“Very
funny!”

“And yet true. You were
ready to rip Zarelli apart with your bare hands. Poor Jenny is
still convinced you’re mad at her. She’s terrified she’s on your
bad side.”

“Oh, please! Am I that
scary?” I caught sight of the face he made at me as we passed under
a street light. “You make it sound like I’m
impossible!”

“You’re not impossible,
love, just feisty. I have no doubt that, when the time is right,
Zarelli’s going to learn a very big lesson.”

“There’s an
understatement,” I grimaced. “By the time I’m through with him,
he’s going to beg the judge to put him behind
bars.”

“As long as it’s legal,
I’m okay with that.”

Kenny joined the others
for the Red Sox game in the living room. Max was still holed up in
the attic storage room, keeping an eye on the monitor. I took
advantage of the opportunity and sat Jenny down for a quiet talk in
the kitchen. I grabbed a bag of my famous cookie dough from the
freezer and baked a batch while I explained my unusual behavior. By
the time I finished, she was solidly in my corner.

“I can’t believe those
guys did that to you. How mean is that? Tell me what you want me to
do, Miz Scarlet, and I’ll do it.”

“I’ll let you know.” I
gave her a quick hug. “Just remember that we’re not supposed to let
on that we know. If you run into these guys, you’re going to have
to pretend you don’t know who they are.”

“No problem,” she told
me. “I’ve got to go. Hammerhead’s supposed to pick me up. We’re
going to the movies tonight.”

“That sounds like
fun.”

“It will be, as long as
the tires don’t get popped.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jen. I
hate that you have to worry about things like
that.”

“At least now we know
what’s going on. Is it okay if I tell Hammerhead?”

“Can you trust him to
keep it a secret?”

“I think
so.”

“In that case, it’s
okay to tell him. Just don’t do it in public, where those goons
might catch wind of it. And be careful tonight. I want you home in
one piece.”

“I promise,” she called
over her shoulder on her way out the door.

After finishing up a
few little tasks downstairs, I headed up to the third floor, with a
Thermos of coffee and a plate of cookies for Max.

“This is a nice
surprise. Thanks.”He sank his teeth into the still warm chocolate
chip treat and gave an involuntary moan. “Delicious. I’m sorry
about giving you the bum’s rush earlier. Are we good,
Scarlet?”

Looking at Max, I
realized that underneath that friendly facade was a man who had
spent decades tracking down killers and hardened criminals. He was
used to doing his job in that rough-and-tumble world, where
split-second decisions sometimes meant the difference between life
and death. I decided to forgive him. “Sure, Max.”

I left him to his
duties, withdrawing to my attic sanctuary. Pulling the shades down
on all the windows, just in case the masked marvels were watching
from their perch in the pines, I turned on the taps of the tub and
treated myself to a long bath. I read four chapters of
Little Red Riding Hood and the Secret Cookie
Recipe
while I soaked away most of
my worries. By the time I stepped onto the bath mat, I was feeling
more like my old self again. I towel-dried my hair, slipped into a
cotton shift and sandals, and then headed back downstairs to get
things set up for breakfast.

In the pantry, I
checked the supply of mini cereal boxes, restocked my selection of
bottled juices, and added packets of sugar and sweeteners to the
crystal bowl on the counter. Satisfied, I flipped off the light
switch. Heading into the kitchen, I pulled a loaf of raisin bread
from the freezer for tomorrow’s French toast and tossed it on the
counter. As I did, I thought I heard a slight muffled noise behind
me. It sounded suspiciously like a sneaky cat on a
mission.

“Don’t climb on that
dining room table, Scrub Oak, or you’re toast!” I warned
him.

“Psst!” Startled, I
jumped at the hissing sound that emerged from shadows of the now
dark butler’s pantry. It was definitely not feline.

“Max!” I whirled around
quickly, on alert.

“No, no. Don’t talk to
me. Just listen, but look like you’re doing something. There’s a
guy in the backyard. I want to get out there, so I can follow him,
but I need a distraction. Do you think you can keep him occupied
while I get into position?”

“What do you want me to
do, sing?”

“It doesn’t matter to
me, as long as he doesn’t hear me leave the house. Do anything, but
give me five minutes of cover.”

“I’ll take out the
trash,” I told him. “I should be able to make enough noise to wake
the dead.”

“Great. Count to a
hundred and then get very busy, so he comes closer for a better
look.”

I did as Max asked of
me, grabbing the blue handles on the bags from the recycling and
trash bins. Making a big show of it, I snapped a couple of fresh
bags in the air and relined the trash cans before making my way to
the back door. I swung it open in dramatic fashion and tossed the
first bag out.
Thwack!
It landed on the
walkway, where I half-expected the bag to pop, but it turned out
the company was telling the truth about the strength of their
“invincible” plastic.

“That’s a shame,” I
muttered, shaking my head in dismay. So much for my plan to make a
fuss over cleaning up the mess of escaping trash, I thought to
myself. Any other time it would have worked.

It was time to
improvise. If Max needed a distraction, I was prepared to go the
distance and it now looked like I had no choice but to put some
muscle into it. I turned around, scooped up the recycle bag, and
with an exaggerated effort, rattled every bottle and can as I
stepped outside. To my ears, it sounded like a gang of raccoons was
raiding the trash cans behind the Quickie Mart in search of
yummies. I judged my action to be a great success -- a great loud
success -- even more annoying than fingernails down a blackboard.
It was time to head for the bins by the carriage
house.

“Un-freaking
believable! I bust my hump to get all this crap done, and I get
nothing but bellyaching from everybody! What is wrong with these
idiots? Don’t they know how hard I work?” I made a point of
stumbling halfway down the driveway, scattering the cans and
plastic bottles from the recycling bag, and then I let out a loud
curse.

“Son of a....Of all the
stinking....” I pretended to be frustrated, kicking a couple of
cans to scatter them in different directions, and then busied
myself retrieving them. So convincing was I in my performance,
Bobby Zarelli never realized I spotted his silhouette as he stood
observing in the shadows of the garden, any more than he noticed
Max creeping down the driveway. I kept up my running commentary,
complaining about non-existent problems, until I knew Max was
tucked behind the bushes, ready to tail Bad Boy Bobby back to his
rock and watch him crawl back under it.

And then it happened --
an unexpected streak of white flew by me, heading straight for
Bobby Zarelli.

“January!” I hollered.
“No!”

Leaving the trash where
it lay, I strode purposefully towards the agitated Jack Russell
terrier, now yapping just a mere ten feet away from the creep. It
pained me to correct her behavior, especially since I really wished
she would nip Bobby Zarelli’s derriere, or at the very least, his
ankles.

“I said no!” I reminded
her.
Max must be plotzing in the
pansies. I’ve got to get that dog out of here, so Bobby will come
out from under the troll bridge.
“Leave that cat alone this minute, young lady! Come on. Let me
pick you up.”

I bent over to scoop
the little dog up and that’s when I saw headlights in the driveway.
Jenny and her date were back. I pretended not to hear a disgruntled
Bobby moving deeper into the shadows. As the car rolled slowly down
the pavement, I heard the big lug softly mutter,
“Cripes!”

Eureka! I know what
will make him crazy. I just have to make him think he’s about to
get caught and he’ll freak out. This little piggy will probably go
wee-wee-wee all the way home.

“What’s going on?”
Jenny hurried to meet me. “Were we attacked again?”

“No, I dropped the
trash and January came charging out here to save me, only she saw
the cat and it all went downhill from there.”

“Thank goodness! I
thought you were going to tell me someone beat you up with a Glad
bag.”

“Would you please do me
a favor, Jen, and take the dog in? I just have to tidy up
here.”

“I was planning on
taking Mozzie out. Want me to take January and Huck,
too?”

“What a dear you are!
Can you walk them out front, on their leashes?” I handed over the
tenacious terrier just as Shark Boy joined us.

“Sure. Come on,
Hammerhead. You can help me.”

“Does that mean nothing
bad happened?” he inquired. I thought I heard tension in his tone.
“Everything’s okay?”

“It does. Miz Scarlet
just lost her grip,” my assistant replied, pausing briefly for
comic effect before adding, “on the trash.”