Mag: And setting a bad example for all of us regular folks that know you’re not supposed to text and drive. Update us on the house tomorrow. Later, Bark E. Mark.
Ugh, I hated that stupid nickname. I dropped my phone on the seat, muttering about my dumbass brother. My five o’clock shadow was rough on my palm as I scrubbed my hand over my face, but I was off for the next week, so a shave could wait until I got a good night’s sleep—nothing like a forced vacation to do absolutely nothing. I smoothed down my mustache and put my hands back in the ten-and-two position, waiting for the light to turn green.
If I’d taken them up on that beer, it would have gotten me out of my head for the night, but then I’d have to listen to them razz me and end up driving one of their drunk asses home.
Nope.
I had plenty of things to occupy my time without worrying about them. The front porch steps desperately needed replacing, and the bathroom on the second floor had a leaky faucet. The whole point of buying my childhood home was so I could restore it to its original glory, and this vacation was my time to do exactly that.
My radio squawked, and I reached forward, listening to dispatch.
“Officer Hansen, come in.”
“Hansen here, go ahead.”
“We got a call about an older lady in a bathrobe dragging a ladder down the road.”
Oh great.
Dispatch didn’t have to say another word. I knew who it was. On the off chance I was wrong, I reached under my shirt and rubbed the horseshoe pendant my dad gave me before joining the force. There was only one reason dispatch would call me on a non-traffic violation at the end of my shift.
Mrs. Lovejoy.
We jokingly called her Loony because that’s exactly what she was. Her husband died something like twenty years ago, and with each passing decade, she went further off the deep end.
We got a call about her once a month, and I was the lucky fuck that was usually asked to reign her in because she lived two streets over from me. It was never anything serious, mostly noisy neighbors afraid she’d hurt herself doing something dumb.
I hit my head against the headrest, not in the mood for her brand of crazy tonight. This past week had been a doozy. I helped my neighbor Jake out with a crazy stalker situation involving his assistant. My gut told me it was far from over, but I passed it up to my superior and hoped I was wrong.
“Hansen. Older female was last seen on Spinner’s End. Do you require another officer to investigate?”
“Negative. I’ll check it out.”
I put the radio down harder than I should have, pushing my speed higher to get to my neighborhood.
Sure enough, Loony was dragging a ladder down the street in a flowered bathrobe with matching slippers. I gave my siren one quick blast, but she raised her arm and shoed me away like I was interrupting some big important mission. I blew out a deep breath and pulled my cruiser to the side of the road, jogging to catch up with her and that damn ladder.
I swear, somewhere, there was a big guy in white with a tranquilizer gun and a huge butterfly net looking for her.
Loony was struggling and breathing heavily. Her curlers were coming out of her long white hair and sticking out of her hairnet. She stopped for a second, letting the ladder drop on the road, and reached into her robe pocket, pulling out something and scattering it on the ground. I got closer and lifted my hand in greeting, but she ignored me and picked the ladder back up.
Damnit!
“Mrs. Lovejoy? What’s going on here? Why are you dragging a ladder down the road?” I said, coming up right behind her and reaching for the ladder. She pulled it from my grip and shoed me away.
“Oh, you hush now, Mark Hansen, and go on about your business. Rhonda, down the road, said she saw a baby kitten around here. I’m too short and too old to be tramping about the woods, so I’m going to climb up the ladder to find the little rascal.”
She continued to drag the ladder, leaving indents in the dirt, so I walked in front of her and grabbed it. That got her attention. She straightened her barely five-foot frame, put a hand on her hip, and hit me with a mom glare that used to scare the hell out of me.
“I mean it! Don’t make me call your mama. I will not leave a poor defenseless kitten in these woods all night.”
She waved her hands around like the shrubbery, and surrounding bushes were a national forest instead of a patch of land separating two neighborhoods.
Loony grabbed the ladder back and set it up right there on the side of the road. She stepped on the first rung, then the second. Her foot slipped when she got to the third, and she tipped backward.
Oh shit!
I darted through the ladder, grabbing her by the waist and steadying her.As soon as she was safely on the ground, I stumbled backward, reaching for my rabbits’ foot and horseshoe.
