Текст книги "A Treasure to Die For"

Автор книги: Richard Houston

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER FOUR

I had been searching all the wrong places. If Sleeveless was truly the crook I suspected, he undoubtedly had a record. I didn’t have access to any criminal databases, but I remembered reading an article awhile back about some websites that published pictures of known felons and sex offenders, and in the case of sex offenders they even pinned their location on a map. The author of the article was trying to get these websites shutdown because she thought it was an invasion of their civil liberties.

After fifteen minutes of my renewed search, I found a rogues' gallery hosted by the Denver Post. Two hours later, I had a name and last known address for Sleeveless.

Thankfully, sleep came quickly once I lay down again. I was too tired to work out the details or devise a plan on what I should do next, but my subconscious wasn’t. When I woke the next morning, I knew exactly what to do.

***

Once I heard the morning news blasting on Bonnie’s television, Fred and I went down for coffee and to tell her I’d found Sleeveless, or as I knew him now, John Appleton of Pine Junction. I needed to borrow her Cherokee because my Jeep was still out of commission. The fuel pump I’d bought the day before could wait until I got Julie’s ring and book back. The thought of breaking into his house to retrieve my property would have never crossed my conscious mind, but the subconscious didn’t have the same principles and it couldn’t wait until I fixed my Jeep.

“I’m going with you, Jake. You can drive if you want, but no way am I going to stay here while you go after the creep,” Bonnie said after I told her why I wanted to borrow her Cherokee.

I wished I hadn’t told her about Appleton. My subconscious didn’t tell me she would want to come along. “Are you crazy, Bon? This guy is dangerous. He was arrested last year for armed robbery.”

She walked over to the key-rack she kept next to her front door and removed her car keys. “It’s my car and I go where it goes,” she said, clutching them in her hand.

I felt like I was six again, arguing with my sister. “Bonnie, listen to me. I’m only asking to borrow your Cherokee because I don’t have time to fix my Jeep right now. I need to make sure it’s him before he goes to work, or whatever he does for a living.” I failed to mention the part about breaking into his house.

“That’s stupid, Jake. You just said how dangerous he is. Do you want him to shoot you with that gun he stole from you?”

“I’m not going to confront him. I’ll park your Cherokee where it can’t be seen from his house and walk back and hide behind a tree or something. Once I see it’s him, I’ll call the sheriff.”

Her fingers relaxed their grip on the keys, but just when I thought she was going to hand them over, she reached for her purse and coat. “All the more reason why I’m going with you guys. You know your phone won’t work over there. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll stay in the car with Fred and wait for you. I can be your backup and call 911 if something goes wrong.”

“Great. A dog that can’t catch squirrels and a sixty-nine-year-old granny covering my back. I’ll be lucky to live long enough to see my own grandchildren.” The words no sooner left my lips when I realized I’d said the wrong thing.

Bonnie’s eyes dimmed, and she turned away. I’d forgotten how many times she had cried after a few too many drinks over the lost hope of grandkids. “I’m sorry, Bon. I suppose it won’t hurt if you come along. You can even help by keeping my mutt quiet while I play hide and seek.”

***

Appleton lived within walking distance of Pine Junction, but over the county line in a cabin smaller than mine. It looked like it was built back in the sixties or seventies before Park County had building codes. What had started as a three hundred square foot A-frame chalet had doubled in size over the years with the addition of a couple shed-dormers. The truck that had nearly run over Fred was parked in a dirt drive next to the east addition. I had taken all this in while slowly driving by the cabin. We had only seen one other vehicle since leaving highway 285, so I didn’t worry about holding up traffic, but I was concerned the other driver might wonder why I was going so slowly.

“I hope he doesn’t come back to check on us,” I said aloud.

“Who, Jake?”

“The driver of that Datsun. You better keep an eye out for him when I go into the cabin. It shouldn’t be hard to miss. I haven’t seen one of those old pickups since I was a teenager,” I said while pulling into Appleton’s driveway.

Bonnie had her seatbelt off and her hand on the door lever before I came to a complete stop. “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked. “Please do as you promised and stay here with Fred while I’m gone.”

“He’s bound to recognize you, Jake. I’ll go and you two stay here. I can pretend I broke down, or have a flat tire or something, and ask to use his phone. Even an ex-con wouldn’t hurt a little old lady. Would he?”

I put the Cherokee in gear and drove away. “Are you kidding, Bon? He must have seen you at the bookstore. I can’t take the chance he’ll remember you.” What was I thinking? I didn’t have a clue about what to do now that we’d found Sleeveless. This guy was a violent felon. Finding him had been a game of wits, safely played out on a computer without any possibility of a physical confrontation. Now it had suddenly turned deadly with the threat of meeting him face-to-face.

“Let’s go back to the highway and wait at that little cafe. He has to pass it on his way out. Then we can come back here and I’ll retrieve my stuff after he’s gone.” Too late, I realized I’d let my true intentions of coming here escape. I expected Bonnie to be shocked.

Bonnie’s grin went from one ear to the next. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Fred jumped over the rear seat and ran to the back of the Cherokee. He barked when we passed Appleton’s cabin then came back and put his big head on the top of the bench seat where we sat. I’m sure if he could talk he would let me know John Wayne wouldn’t be running away. The Duke would have gone in there and beat Sleeveless to a pulp.

***

We didn’t have to wait long. I was about to put Fred back in the Cherokee, after letting him circle a grassy knoll outside the cafe, when the beat-up F150 went sailing by. Bonnie saw it too and stopped just shy of entering the cafe. Ten minutes later, the three of us were back at Appleton’s cabin.

Without the danger of being shot by my own gun, I parked where the F150 had been, and told my sidekicks to wait in the car. Bonnie wasn’t in the habit of taking orders, and I didn’t have the time to argue when she followed me to the door with Fred bringing up the rear. After knocking to make sure no one was inside, I went around to the front of the cabin with my entourage close behind. Like most A-frames built during its era, this one had a deck in the front with a sliding-glass door. It had been the main entrance before all the additions had been built. I checked to see if any neighbors could see us before we climbed the short flight of stairs onto the deck. Appleton’s cabin was fairly secluded. The only other house I saw was several hundred yards down the road, and it looked empty.

My plan to get inside was simple. All I had to do was lift the sliding panel of the glass door. The flimsy locks they put on these early models were no deterrent to even a novice burglar. Not that I have a lot of practice breaking into homes; it was something I learned in my sideline as a handy-man. That plan went out the proverbial window when Bonnie noticed a blood stain on the deck and the slider wide open.

I’ve read enough murder mysteries to know we shouldn’t go inside, but I could see my shotgun on the kitchen table. I had to get it and look for my ring and book before the cops took them for evidence, or I could forget about ever seeing them again. Fred solved that minor dilemma for me and went in without having to worry about disturbing evidence or being arrested for breaking and entering.

With his nose to the floor, he headed straight for the kitchen. Appleton either had dog food sitting in a bowl, or he’d left some other tasty morsel lying around.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Bonnie asked, sticking her head through to door while I was still wondering what to do if we found a body.

I scooted past Bonnie and went inside when Fred disappeared into one of the room additions. “Wait here, Bon. Fred smells something. It might not be something you want to see.”

I grabbed my shotgun from the table, checked to see if it was loaded, and crept close to the wall as I approached the room Fred had gone into. I stopped just outside the open door and tried to listen. The only sound I heard was Bonnie’s breathing. She had completely ignored my warning and was attached to me at the hip.

“You know he’s not in there, Jake. We saw him drive by us in the truck. Why are you being so cautious?” she whispered. The problem was she whispered like she was at a rock concert.

I was about to give up the stealth attack and just barge into the room when Fred came moseying out with a sock in his mouth.

“Not now, boy,” I said when he tried to put it in my hand and before I realized he didn’t want to play tug-a-war. It wasn’t a sock after all.

The first clue that it wasn’t a sock was the texture. Unless Appleton was into wearing paper socks, Fred had brought me a crumpled up sheet of notebook paper.

“Blood sucking bug pass,” I read aloud, without the fear of someone lurking behind the door. It would not have meant a thing if not for the numbers next to each word. I would check my copy of Tom Sawyer if I ever got it back, but I knew instantly Appleton had decoded Drake’s enigma.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bonnie asked, now that we had moved past the door and she had managed to detach herself from my side without surgery.

“I think it’s the code telling where the old miner’s treasure is hidden. It’s a code within a code,” I said, making a quick check of the room.

There was a single bed, a computer desk with the computer still on, and a dresser. They were all in the style of early Goodwill, worth a good fifty dollars at most.

“We better make it quick, Bon. He wouldn’t leave the door open and his computer on if he was on the way to Mexico.”

She walked over to look at the computer monitor as if she hadn’t heard me. “Do you suppose he knows what the code means, Jake?” She quickly turned away with a disgusted look.

“Men. Is that all you guys ever think about?”

“No,” I answered when I saw what was on the screen.

I reached over and turned off the monitor. “Right now I’m wondering what jail food tastes like. We better get out of here before someone shows up.”

Bonnie had the top dresser drawer open before I finished talking. “Aren’t you gonna look for your cigar box? Maybe it’s in here. I’ll…”

Fred cut her off with a short bark. I hadn’t noticed he had gone back outside until he ran back in the room to get my attention. Then I heard the truck.

CHAPTER FIVE

Bonnie must have heard the truck, too, because stopped rifling through the dresser and looked up at me. Her eyes were huge. “My God, Jake, he’s back!” She was holding a pair of Appleton’s shorts, and any other time it would have been funny. She had an index finger poking out a hole meant for something else.

“Quick, Bon, close that drawer and let’s go out on the deck. We’ll pretend we never came inside.” Bonnie didn’t move. She was frozen in place and had turned whiter than fresh snow. I grabbed her by the arm and hurriedly led her outside before Appleton could catch us in his house.

Once outside, I realized it wouldn’t take him ten seconds to find us out. It was time to take the offense. I opened the gun’s breach to make sure it was still loaded, then snapped it shut. The double-barrel shotgun was an antique, but very effective with number-two buckshot at close range.

“Grab Fred’s collar and get behind me when he comes up, Bon, but not too close; this gun has a pretty good kick.” I cocked both hammers and waited.

The truck didn’t move, and Appleton didn’t get out. He just stayed there with the motor spewing blue-white smoke out the tailpipe. I couldn’t actually see his face because of the glare on his dirty windshield. Was he on his phone calling the sheriff? Or worse, was he loading his own gun? What was he doing?

Fred didn’t wait to find out, and took off down the deck stairs before Bonnie could catch his collar.

“Fred! No! Get back here! Now!” I might as well have been yelling at the trees.

Bonnie was back to being Bonnie. “Go get him, Freddie! Show him we mean business.”

I didn’t waste time with the stairs and vaulted over the rail. I wasn’t about to let that creep hurt my dog. The drop from the deck to the ground was only a few feet, but I landed on a large rock and twisted my leg causing me to fall. The butt of the gun hit the ground hard and fired. Appleton put his truck in reverse and raced out the driveway before Fred could reach him. Fred knew from experience he couldn’t catch the truck once it was on the road and gave up the chase. He was back with a huge grin on his face before I managed to get up.

“Good boy,” Bonnie said, reaching down with both hands to rub his head. “You showed that pervert who’s the boss.” She had taken the slower, but safer, way to get off the deck by walking down the stairs.

***

“I still have some old Keystones in the fridge, if you want one, Jake,” Bonnie said before taking a sip of her Jack Daniels. We were recalling our adventure while watching the sun slip behind Mount Evans from her back deck. If ever there was a time I needed a beer, it was now. I’m sure Fred could use one too, but I knew Julie was watching and we couldn’t let her down.

“No thanks, Bon. I’ll wait for the coffee.” Fred had cold water he didn’t drink. It would have been the quintessential Rocky Mountain spring night if not for her police scanner squawking in the background to remind me we had just committed a felony of breaking and entering.

Being a possible fugitive didn’t seem to bother Bonnie. She was amazing. She hadn’t cared one bit if Appleton called the sheriff; she had been hell-bent on going back inside to look for my cigar box. I had to talk myself silly to get her to leave his cabin before the law arrived, but I’m glad she was on my team. Though she didn’t find it, I was amazed at her lack of fear.

Bonnie looked at the wrinkled paper again and took another sip of her drink. “Blood sucking bug pass. Do you think that’s the location of the Tenderfoot, or where Drake stashed his gold?”

“Most likely the gold, if those numbers are the code he left for his niece to decode. I’ll have to get a copy of Paul Wilson’s book and verify them, but we still don’t have a clue as to what it means.”

“Patty has a copy, Jake. I’ll ask to borrow it first thing in the morning.” Bonnie had that little-girl gleam in her eye again, and I could tell it wasn’t from her drink. “Oh, this is so exciting. We’re going on a real treasure hunt.”

“Whoa there, partner. Nobody said anything about searching for it. You won’t be doing much treasure hunting from a jail cell. Let’s concentrate on finding Shelia’s killer first.”

She put the paper down on the little deck-table before taking a long swallow from her glass. “We know who did it. We practically caught Sleeveless with his pants down.”

I choked on my coffee. The vision of Bonnie with her finger sticking through Appleton’s shorts and the image on his computer screen made me laugh before I could finish swallowing. “That’s not the point, Bon. You and I both know he killed Shelia while stealing her copy of the book, and when he found it was the wrong copy, he helped himself to mine. The point is we can’t prove any of it.”

She paused with both hands around her glass, thinking about what I’d said. “It’s all circumstantial, isn’t it?”

Bonnie’s police scanner cut me off before I could answer. She nearly dropped her drink when a dispatcher mentioned Appleton’s name. He had been found dead in his truck. There was more, but I couldn’t hear it over the static.

Bonnie went over to her scanner to silence its screeching, but not before we heard the mention of suicide. She turned to me with eyes the size of quarters. “Suicide?”

“That’s what they said,” I answered. “Kind of hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“You don’t suppose it was because he knew we figured out he killed Shelia?” she asked, now holding her glass tightly with both hands.

“He didn’t seem like the kind to kill himself, Bon.”

A vision of Appleton trying to run over my dog when Fred had chased his truck flashed through my mind. “What do you think, Fred? Do you smell something fishy?”

Fred didn’t answer, but raised his head at the mention of his name. He had slept through the excitement of the scanner, and I felt bad for waking him from his dreams. For all I knew he might have caught Chatter, or met a pretty Collie. I reached down to rub his ears, but froze when the scanner came back on.

Bonnie managed to raise the volume in time for us to hear someone request a tow-truck at Three Sisters Park to haul Appleton’s truck away. “I think Fred and I might go there tomorrow, Bon.”

“Three Sister’s Park? What do you expect to find there?”

“Not the park, Bon. I want to go back to Appleton’s cabin before they send out their forensics team. Our prints are all over the place.”

She set her glass on the table next to the wrinkled paper from Appleton’s bedroom. “Why would they do that? Are you saying he didn’t kill himself?”

“You’re forgetting the blood stain on the deck, Bon. I’m no expert, but it looked fresh and someone tried to wash it out. Maybe somebody was trying to make it look like suicide.”

“Are you sure I can’t get you a beer, Jake. It would help you think better. How did he drive back and catch us there if he’d already been killed? You gonna tell me he’s a zombie?”

“Zombie or not, it doesn’t smell right, and I’m sure the cops will smell it too.”

***

I was torn between leaving Fred with Bonnie and taking him with me the following morning. Bonnie made the decision for me when she used the same tactic as the day before. My Jeep was still down and if I wanted to use her Cherokee, I had to take her along.

“Only if I drive,” I told her, trying to look like I meant it. I used my mean face, the one I use when Fred has done something bad, where I stare without blinking.

She wasn’t buying it. “Should we let the little boy drive, Freddie?”

My mean voice had worked on him. He was at my side acting like a concrete statue, but managed a short bark when he heard her question.

“Okay, you guys win, but only because I need to fix my face and it will save time if I do it while you drive.”

***

We drove past Appleton’s slowly, but not slow enough to be suspicious if someone should be watching. Once satisfied that the cabin wasn’t being watched, we went back and pulled into the drive. I parked close to the deck stairs instead of the front door. There was no need to clean the door of prints because we had entered through the sliding door on the deck.

I turned to Bonnie who had already unhooked her seat belt and was reaching for the door handle. “Bon, please don’t,” I said before she could open the door. “I need you to stay here with Fred and watch the road while I go in and wipe the place down.”

“It’s my prints too, Jake. I can’t take the chance you’ll miss anything.”

“Please, Bon. You’ll slow me down and I need you to be my lookout.”

She let go of the door handle and sat back without saying a word. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was pouting.

“I’m sorry, Bon Bon. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just that I really need you to watch my back.”

A cigarette and lighter appeared from nowhere. “I’m not a cripple, Jake. Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I’m slow,” she said, before flicking on her lighter.

***

The cabin looked the same as when we were here yesterday. I knew I had to be quick for it was only a matter of time before someone showed up, so I started at the sliding door then worked my way toward the bedroom, wiping everything we might have touched with a rag coated with lemon oil. I had seen on some TV show where prints couldn’t be lifted from an oily surface. It sounded logical, whether it was true or not, but too late I realized how stupid I’d been. Maybe Bonnie should have come with me after all. I’m sure she would have known better.

Appleton had been a slob. The place looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months, so my attempt to wipe prints became all too obvious when I went to clean off the table where my shotgun had lain. I needed to wipe the whole table or even a rookie cop would see someone had tried to remove finger prints. It would be like leaving little sticky notes saying ‘look here’.

If only moving the clutter to clean under it was so simple. My brilliant idea to wear latex gloves was stupid, because they were now coated in lemon oil. I couldn’t touch anything without staining it with oil from the gloves, and if I took them off, I’d be leaving more prints than I started with.

Appleton had inadvertently solved the problem for me. Among the mess on the table was a dirty dish towel. Using the towel as a makeshift pair of gloves, I could now move a stack of books that included Forrest Fenn’s book and several overdue library books on lost Rocky Mountain treasures. There was also a Lakewood phone book and a printout on paper with holes punched on the sides. I was in still in high school the last time I saw that kind of paper; it had to be thirty years old, but wasn’t. Thirty-year-old paper should be yellow with faded ink, and this looked like it was printed yesterday. A quick glance told me it was a copy of the Rocky Mountain News article Paul Wilson had mentioned at his book signing.

More clutter was stacked on top of a small tin box. My heart nearly stopped when I went to move the box heard the distinctive sound of coins. Sure that Julie’s ring would be there, I tore off the top of the box, but all I found were my coins and a flash drive.

Where was her ring? Did he sell or hock it? I wanted to throw the tin box across the room, and probably would have if not for Fred. He was sitting on the other side of the table wearing a grin on his face.

“What are you doing here, Freddie?” The question was really meant for Bonnie, for she was standing behind him at the sliding-glass door.

“Jake, I think we better leave.” Her wrinkled forehead and frown spelled worry.

“I’m almost finished, Bon. Give me another minute and I’ll be right out.”

“You don’t have another minute. Someone has driven by a couple times in a fancy SUV, and I’m sure they saw my Cherokee.”

“I can’t leave yet, I’m not finished. Keep an eye out for me while I check the bedroom.”

She surprised me when she didn’t argue. I thought for sure she would have come in to help, or should I say snoop. Evidently, she took the SUV seriously.

I quickly finished with the table then had a brilliant idea. I put most of my coins and the flash drive in my pockets, but left a few quarters. Somewhere in my twisted logic, I thought the police wouldn’t suspect anyone had been here when they saw the coins. Any self-respecting burglar wouldn’t leave cash money behind.

Pleased with my clever subterfuge, I hurried to the bedroom door to wipe its frame and knobs, and anything Bonnie or I might have touched or leaned against. Two minutes later, I joined her at the door.

She pointed toward the kitchen. “You missed those paw prints by the fridge, Jake.”

I followed her finger and saw where Fred had sniffed for food. There was no way I could clean those without doing the entire floor. “It’s too late now. We’ll leave the door open and hope they think a neighbor’s dog made them.”

She was gone when I turned back to the sliding door. I made one last wipe of the jamb where she had been resting her hand, and followed her to the car with Fred one step behind me. I couldn’t help but wonder if the FBI kept track of dog prints.

Bonnie was behind the wheel, and I wanted to leave the scene of our crime quickly, so I didn’t argue about her driving. “I think all we did was dig a deeper hole,” I said while watching out the rear window for the mysterious SUV once we were back on the road.

She looked over at me as she turned onto 285. “Why’s that, Jake?”

Suddenly, the blare of a semi truck’s horn made us nearly jump out of our seats. Bonnie had cut off the big rig and it missed us by inches when its driver swerved into another lane.

I subconsciously crossed myself. “He’s probably calling the sheriff this very minute.”

She started pouting again. “He shouldn’t be going so fast down this hill, and that’s what I’ll tell the sheriff if he does report me.”

“Not the truck driver, Bon. The guy in the SUV. He’s probably reporting us right now.”

“Oh, him. Well, I doubt if he got a license number. That would have been impossible the way you parked next to the side entrance.”

She was probably right and her Cherokee was as common in the foothills as pine beetles, so telling the cops what we were driving would narrow the suspect list down to a few hundred thousand. Still, it wouldn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to track us down; even Inspector Clouseau would be able to do it in time.

***

We stopped at the lake in Evergreen before heading up the canyon to our homes. Fred had been cooped up too long, and needed to stretch his legs. Bonnie needed a cigarette to calm her nerves, and I needed to think.

“That was close, Bon,” I said once we found a bench away from the lake house where Fred could water some trees.

She paused with her cigarette in midair. “I feel like a little girl again, Jake. That was fun.”

“Are you sure your last name isn’t Parker?”

“You’ve got to admit, Clyde, that was exciting,” she answered before taking a deep drag.

She waited long enough to feel the nicotine then exhaled. “I’m sorry you didn’t find your book or ring, but I’m glad you at least got your coins back.”

Watching the smoke circle in front of her, she continued. “I would have never thought to look in that box. But you should have taken all of them. Your prints must be on the ones you left behind.”

I had told her about finding my coins on our trip back from Pine Junction, and I couldn’t resist mentioning how clever I’d been to leave a few behind. Leave it to Bonnie to burst my bubble.

Fred came back and sat by my feet, listening to every word we said. “All the more reason we need to find out who killed Appleton,” I said.

Instinctively, I reached out to pet Fred. It was more for my comfort than his. “Now both of us will be murder suspects. They might take pity on a little old lady, but you can bet they’ll throw me and Fred in jail first and ask questions later.”

Bonnie started to say something, but coughed instead. Once she recovered, she flipped her cigarette into the lake. “You really think someone murdered Sleeveless?”

Fred lost interest in our conversation and went off to bark at some ducks in the water. I kept one eye on him while I answered Bonnie’s question. “Appleton wasn’t the kind to sit in his truck and watch us break into his house. I think he was already dead and his killer came back for evidence that would connect him to the murder.”

“Someone else was in his truck?” Bonnie started to light another cigarette, then paused with the lighter inches from her face. “Do you think they’re connected?”

“Who, Bon? Appleton and his killer?”

Fred decided to go after the ducks before Bonnie could answer.

“The murders, silly. Do you think the same guy killed Shelia?”

Bonnie waited for an answer while I watched Fred swim slowly toward the ducks. Golden’s are great swimmers, but have nothing on Mallards. They let him get close then took off quacking, only to land a few yards away, and draw him further out in the lake.

“As sure as Fred will never catch those ducks,” I said.

Bonnie turned toward Fred and laughed. He lunged at a duck but missed when they took flight again, leaving him with a mouth full of water. Beethoven’s Fifth started playing on my cell phone before I could call Fred to come back. A quick glance at the text message told me it was the contractor who had replaced me with illegals.

“Looks like our sleuthing is on hold, Bon. I need to get my Jeep fixed. They want me to come back tomorrow and fix the mess made by the day laborers.”

***

Fred should have been exhausted after his marathon swim trying to catch dinner, but the first thing he did when we got back to Bonnie’s was jump out of her Cherokee and run after Chatter. I let him go after the tree-rat, and hiked up the path from Bonnie’s to my cabin. Fred would be sleeping soundly tonight.

I spent the rest of the afternoon replacing the fuel pump on my old Jeep while Fred kept himself busy trying to catch the squirrel. The phone call to my new boss could wait.

Working on a car is one chore most people would rather pass on to a mechanic, but working on my old beast was different. I actually enjoyed it at times like this. It was better than alcohol or nicotine and a lot less work than jogging to get the endorphins flowing.

Unlike newer vehicles, with electric fuel pumps buried in unreachable gas tanks, my Jeep had the old-style mechanical pump attached to the engine block. And it didn’t take a contortionist to get to it. There was enough room under the hood for a small army of back-yard mechanics, or in my case, a man and his dog.

Fred had tired of chasing the elusive Chatter, and parked himself under the Jeep so he could watch and supervise. He barked when my ratchet slipped and I let out a few cuss words to ease the pain of scraped knuckles. I realized he wasn’t there to check my work at all when I heard the distinctive sound of bells and cannons; Beethoven was calling me.

The symphony stopped by the time I extracted myself from under the Jeep and stumbled up my front porch stairs to answer my phone. There was a message from Bonnie inviting me and Fred to dinner, and a text from the contractor wondering where I was. I sent a text back to the contractor explaining my Jeep was down and I wouldn’t be there until tomorrow. Then I called Bonnie.