Read Online Escape Route (Murder Off-Screen Book 1) by GA VanDruff - Free Book Online
Authors: GA VanDruff
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Francine as the brains behind this drama. Geoff Cuthbart would not put his children through anymore losses, but why do you think my two boarders are the dognappers?”
I told her about Bub’s and the park with Doofus. The nail polish. “Mainly, it’s my gut talking, but they did buy ammo, and where is the dog now, if it was their dog? They’re here, and it isn’t.”
The floorboards groaned again, and I heard the bathroom door shut. “Have they done or said anything unusual? Even the tiniest thing?” I pointed to the ceiling.
Gertie adjusted her scarf, and looked at me like a mother about to tell her daughter there was no Santa Claus. “Avery asked me if Bub sold shovels.”
“That’s it then.” I bit the thread off and spit-balled the leftover strand into a tiny knot and tucked it under the patch. “Bullets and shovels.” I pocketed my phone, stood up and hula-hooped the kink out of my back.
I turned the jacket this way and that, brushed futilely at what remained of Doofus’s hair, and gave the jacket a final shake.
“King is still out there, Gertie. Alive. I’ve got to find him.” I handed her the jacket. “They are going to shoot him and bury him. Bullets and shovels. Bullets, they’ve got, but without a shovel to bury him immediately, King must still be alive.”
Gertie held the jacket up by the shoulders. “You might be right.” She dug deep into each pocket, then handed me a fob with two keys attached. “Search their car. Maybe you’ll find something that will help. Put the keys in the mailbox before you leave.”
“Will you be safe here, alone with them, do you think? They have a gun. Maybe we should just call the sheriff.”
“For what? If he finds the dog, he’ll return it to the Cuthbarts, and in a month or two, the poor thing will be in the same predicament. Anywho, Sheriff Nilly is on a week-long retreat. Community relations or some kind of waste of tax-payer dollars. Deputy Beatty is on call, though. Home Depot is real good about letting him clock out if we have an emergency. Jaqie, I am a former corrections officer. Remember? I can take care of myself.”
Gertie made the front page of the Baltimore Sun last year for planting a mugger facedown in a tub of Russell’s coleslaw, made especially for the Fourth of July town picnic. Aunt B sent me a copy of the paper. She doesn’t grasp downloading.
That Gertie was fifty-seven made it news worthy. That Gertie coleslawed a man half her age and twice her size with two fingers, put the story above the fold.
Russell’s Sprouts is home to the best darn slaw on the Eastern Shore. Hated to waste it like that , was the caption below the picture of Sheriff Nilly shaking Gertie’s hand and awarding her the official crab hammer to Oakley Beach.
“I’ll distract them. The chubby one flirted with me. How’s my hair?”
It hadn’t moved since yesterday, and it wouldn’t move tomorrow. “Great, but don’t go making Dell jealous.”
“Jealous is what that man should have a taste of. Now, you run on. I’ll keep these boys turning circles as long as I can.”
“I’ll go out the back.”
No sooner were those words out of my mouth when the foreigners followed their noses into the kitchen. Gertie’s working man’s breakfast would keep them busy long enough for me to ransack their car.
Maybe I’d find something— anything —that would convince me Avery and his friend had nothing to do with King, and I would not have to include grand theft auto in my resumé.
~~^~~
The surest way to attract attention in Oakley Beach is to step outside. I sauntered past the car with the Pennsylvania plates. Casual. Nothing to see here. Leaned against the door. Bo Peep’s windows were steamed up on the inside from Gertie’s campaign to hogtie the men with carbohydrates.
“Hey, Jaqie! How’s it going?” Mildred, the mailman. Mail carrier .
“Fine, Mildred. And Fred?”
“Good as gold.”
“Give him a scratch from me.”
She tossed me
I told her about Bub’s and the park with Doofus. The nail polish. “Mainly, it’s my gut talking, but they did buy ammo, and where is the dog now, if it was their dog? They’re here, and it isn’t.”
The floorboards groaned again, and I heard the bathroom door shut. “Have they done or said anything unusual? Even the tiniest thing?” I pointed to the ceiling.
Gertie adjusted her scarf, and looked at me like a mother about to tell her daughter there was no Santa Claus. “Avery asked me if Bub sold shovels.”
“That’s it then.” I bit the thread off and spit-balled the leftover strand into a tiny knot and tucked it under the patch. “Bullets and shovels.” I pocketed my phone, stood up and hula-hooped the kink out of my back.
I turned the jacket this way and that, brushed futilely at what remained of Doofus’s hair, and gave the jacket a final shake.
“King is still out there, Gertie. Alive. I’ve got to find him.” I handed her the jacket. “They are going to shoot him and bury him. Bullets and shovels. Bullets, they’ve got, but without a shovel to bury him immediately, King must still be alive.”
Gertie held the jacket up by the shoulders. “You might be right.” She dug deep into each pocket, then handed me a fob with two keys attached. “Search their car. Maybe you’ll find something that will help. Put the keys in the mailbox before you leave.”
“Will you be safe here, alone with them, do you think? They have a gun. Maybe we should just call the sheriff.”
“For what? If he finds the dog, he’ll return it to the Cuthbarts, and in a month or two, the poor thing will be in the same predicament. Anywho, Sheriff Nilly is on a week-long retreat. Community relations or some kind of waste of tax-payer dollars. Deputy Beatty is on call, though. Home Depot is real good about letting him clock out if we have an emergency. Jaqie, I am a former corrections officer. Remember? I can take care of myself.”
Gertie made the front page of the Baltimore Sun last year for planting a mugger facedown in a tub of Russell’s coleslaw, made especially for the Fourth of July town picnic. Aunt B sent me a copy of the paper. She doesn’t grasp downloading.
That Gertie was fifty-seven made it news worthy. That Gertie coleslawed a man half her age and twice her size with two fingers, put the story above the fold.
Russell’s Sprouts is home to the best darn slaw on the Eastern Shore. Hated to waste it like that , was the caption below the picture of Sheriff Nilly shaking Gertie’s hand and awarding her the official crab hammer to Oakley Beach.
“I’ll distract them. The chubby one flirted with me. How’s my hair?”
It hadn’t moved since yesterday, and it wouldn’t move tomorrow. “Great, but don’t go making Dell jealous.”
“Jealous is what that man should have a taste of. Now, you run on. I’ll keep these boys turning circles as long as I can.”
“I’ll go out the back.”
No sooner were those words out of my mouth when the foreigners followed their noses into the kitchen. Gertie’s working man’s breakfast would keep them busy long enough for me to ransack their car.
Maybe I’d find something— anything —that would convince me Avery and his friend had nothing to do with King, and I would not have to include grand theft auto in my resumé.
~~^~~
The surest way to attract attention in Oakley Beach is to step outside. I sauntered past the car with the Pennsylvania plates. Casual. Nothing to see here. Leaned against the door. Bo Peep’s windows were steamed up on the inside from Gertie’s campaign to hogtie the men with carbohydrates.
“Hey, Jaqie! How’s it going?” Mildred, the mailman. Mail carrier .
“Fine, Mildred. And Fred?”
“Good as gold.”
“Give him a scratch from me.”
She tossed me
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