Tag Archives: chapter fourteen part two

Duck, Duck, Dead Duck; chapter fourteen, part two

I dismissed the thoughts as I pulled on my head.  I was ninety percent certain that Shannon was the culprit which meant I could relax.  No one would be trying to off me today.  I could walk freely among the children and not worry about anything more than getting food on my outfit.  The darlings tended to have their hands full when they wanted to hug me and would through their arms around me ad nauseam without thinking to pass along their booty to their beaming parents first.  Consequently, at the end of the day, I became a walking billboard for the park’s menu.  I usually ended up smelling like I’d been dipped in a vat of hot oil, and it wasn’t pleasant.  However, I was so ecstatic not to be the target of someone’s venom, I didn’t mind the thought of all those spoiled children ruining my day.  Much.

I got up and reluctantly left the sanctuary of the green room.  Hundreds of screaming brats greeted my ears.  Even though they were muffled by the giant head I was wearing, I could still hear more than I wanted.  I would like to wear earplugs as I worked, but I couldn’t risk missing a request from one of the kids while I was off in my own world.  I had tried it once when I first started working, and Eddie had caught me at it.  He reamed me out but good and threatened to fire me if I ever did it again.  At that time, I valued my job too much to do anything that smacked of insurrection.  Now, however, I couldn’t care less; I’d have to think about bringing my earplugs tomorrow.

“Mommy!  It’s Maisie.  She’s back!”  A towheaded boy with his front teeth missing raced towards me, cotton candy in one hand, a hot dog in the other.  He flung his arms around me, nearly knocking me backwards.  He was pretty strong for a small fry, and I had to dig in my heels so I wouldn’t fall over.  “I missed you, Maisie!  Do you remember me?  It’s Ryan Wheeler.  I came here five times last year.”  He let go of his death grip but kept his hands on me.

“Ryan Wheeler,” I said in my high, rodent-like voice.  “Of course I remember you.  How could I forget?”  The little tyke was smearing blue raspberry cotton candy down the front of my costume with one hand while patting me on the back with the other—most likely spreading mustard while he was at it.

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Duck, Duck, Dead Duck; chapter fourteen, part two

Amidst her ranting and raving, the sound of sirens were heard.  I couldn’t tell if they were coming from the phone or directly from outside, but it really didn’t matter.  The cops were here which meant they’d put a stop to the insanity.  Through my phone, I heard the voice of Detective Bradley shouting for Shannon to put down her weapon.  Shannon screamed, but did not indicate whether or not she was going to comply.  Her phone cut off, so hopefully the detectives had winged the bitch.  I poked my head around the corner into the living room and was relieved when no shots flew by—or at my head.  After ascertaining that she wasn’t shooting any longer, I glanced down and saw my father on the floor, slumped against the couch, holding his arm.  Blood was flowing freely, and his face was white.

“Shit,” I cursed, flying to his side, trying to stay low as I did.  I hung up my cell and called 911, ordering them to send an ambulance.  “Dad, hang on,” I said, after explaining the crisis to the operator.  I was still on the line, but I wanted to reassure my father that help was on the way.

“Someone shot me,” Dad said, his eyes dulled with shock.  “Trish, someone shot me.”  There was knocking at the door, but I ignored it.  Someone else would have to answer as I was not leaving my father.

“Oh my God!  Bob!”  My mother cried from the entryway of the living room.  Heedless of possible danger to herself, she ran to my father.  “You’re hurt.  I shouldn’t have left without you.  What was I thinking?”  She started crying as she stared at the blood running down Dad’s arm.  “I have to get you help.”  She jumped to her feet, but I stopped her.

“I called 911, Mom,” I said, indicating the phone.  “Did someone get the door?  I think it was the cops.”

“Ramona did,” Mom said distractedly, checking Dad over.  By now, the others were filtering back into the room, expressing their dismay at my father being shot.  The guys looked ashamed that they had run without ensuring his safety.  Beth and Sidney looked as if they didn’t quite know what hit them, while Michele was missing from the happy crowd.  She must be with Mona and the cops.  Speaking of which, they entered the living room.  Detective Bradley looked tired but triumphant.

“We got her,” he said, nodding at us.  “You’re lucky we were close by.  We’re going to need to take your statements.”

“Later,” my mother said firmly.  “My husband is hurt.”

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Plaster of Paris; chapter fourteen, part two

“We should go to the hospital,” I say urgently.  We gather our stuff, forgetting about our brainstorming session.  It’s more important we reach the Jensons and Paris before anyone else does.  As we’re rushing down the front steps, Inspector Robinson is walking up them.  She is wearing a taupe pantsuit that flatters her figure nicely.

“The Three Musketeers,” Inspector Robinson says, an edge to her voice.  “Just the trio I want to see.  Let’s go back up to your apartment, shall we?”  Despite being couched in question form, it is an order, and we all know it.  We shuffle upstairs without saying anything.

“Can I get you anything, Inspector?”  My mother asks as we enter the apartment.  Before Inspector Robinson can answer, my mom is up and in the kitchen.  Lyle and I look at the inspector, but she remains silent.  I realize that she is waiting for my mother to return, so I don’t start a conversation.  She will tell us what she wants to know, when she wants to tell us, and no amount of coercion will persuade her to do differently.  The silence is taut, but not uncomfortable.  Although the inspector is radiating anger, I don’t think it’s directed towards us.  Of course, I could be mistaken, in which case, we are in for a long night.  I look at Lyle who is staring at nothing in particular.  I look at Inspector Robinson who is perusing her notes.  I open my mouth to say something, then shut it quickly.  Now is not the time for me to be nosy or smart-assed or to use any of the  half-dozen of my usual responses.  There is one question I need to ask the inspector, however, and I voice it.

“Inspector Robinson?”  I make sure my voice isn’t tentative because I don’t want to sound like a beta dog rolling over to have my stomach scratched.  The inspector looks up at me and waits for me to continue.  “Do you think Paris is still in danger?”

“I do,” Inspector Robinson says immediately.  “Him, you, your mother, Mr. Kingston.  Possibly Ms. Meadows’ other children.  Less likely her husband or the Jensons.”

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Dogged Ma; chapter fourteen, part two

Chapter Fourteen; Part Two

I handed Ted a cup of coffee before taking one myself.  I sat across from him in a chair as I was in a strange mood.  Skittish, I’d say.  Not because we’d had sex already, but because my body was changing.  I knew it wouldn’t be long before I had to explain my precarious situation, but I didn’t want it to be tonight.  Unfortunately, that probably meant no hands-on fooling around as the signs were unmistakable.  Then again, he was a man.  What did he know about pregnancy?  What I knew was that he was looking at me with puppy-dog eyes, wondering why I was so far away.  I hesitated a moment before giving in to my impulses and plopping down besides him on the couch.  He pulled me to him, careful not to jostle my coffee.  I set down the cup on the table because I didn’t trust myself not to spill.

“Thanks for dinner,” Ted whispered in my ear before nuzzling my neck.  I shivered as I draped my arms around him.  My hormones were triumphing over my brains as usual, and I quickly gave in.  “Is there any way I can repay you?”  He slid his hand over my breast, frustrated at the limited access.  One problem with dresses was that there was no graceful fondling of naked breasts.  Ted realized that trying to worm his way in on top was futile, so he dropped his hand to my knee and slid it up to my thigh.  He met with more success on this route.

“Why don’t you show me your bedroom?”  Ted asked huskily, removing his hand from my thigh.  I nodded as I stood up, holding my hand out to him.  He grabbed it to pull himself up, leaving his coffee behind.

“This is it,” I said, gesturing around me.  I hadn’t done much with it as I didn’t spend much time in it.  However, I had pictures of my family on the wall which gave it a homey touch.

“Maybe we could keep the lights off,” Ted suggested, eyeing my mother’s stern face in consternation.  I suppressed a giggle as I complied; turning off the lights benefited me as well.

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