Chapter 28
You are Asking for Trouble
I was still fuming at Aunt George, the way she had barged into my home, demanding the arrest of Father for a crime I could never imagine him committing, when Tom ran up from downstairs and said, “He’s gone.” My first thought was one of relief and then worry. Where would Father go and how long could he avoid the warrant for his arrest?
Tom took my hands in his and said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s okay. His bicycle is gone, too, so he can’t get very far or very fast. I’ll drive around and see if I can find him.”
Soon as Tom left, I called Mabs. She answered immediately. “Hey, is Father there?”
“Why no. Heck, honey, I haven’t seen me for a couple of days. You do know, don’t you, that he lives in your basement from time to time.”
“Yes, I know. He was here tonight and had dinner with me and Tom—”
“Oh, Tom? You mean Dr. Cavendish? Why I didn’t realize he made house calls.”
“Very funny, Mabs. This is serious. Aunt George was here with Deputy Dawg and presented a warrant for Father’s arrest.”
“What? What the hell? That’s insane. On what charge?”
“She claimed Father robbed the convenience store out by the interchange and at gunpoint. She claims they have him dead-to-rights on the store’s security camera.”
“I’ll be damned. Well, let’s go out and take a look.”
“We can do that?”
“Not technically, but the manager is my cousin’s niece. She’s a pimply little devil but if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll do whatever I say, or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Mabs, you’re a godsend. I’ll pick you up in five.”
Rockie’s Gas ‘n Go was a stand-alone gas station and convenience store that was the last place in the county to buy gas before you entered the interstate. The old store had been there since I was a little girl. Father always stopped there to fill up the Buick before we drove to Topeka or Wichita, and that one summer when the three of us took a long road trip to Aspen in Colorado.
The red brick building hadn’t been updated since the 60s and still only had two gas pumps barely shaded by a wobbly awning with fading red, white, and blue stripes painted across the top. Inside, you could buy lottery tickets, hand-cut steaks, and order lunch from the deli. Father always made a point to buy me some strawberry Twizzlers.
When Mabs and I pulled in and parked off to the side, there was only one customer gassing up an old Ford stationwagon. We waited until he left. Mabs barged in ahead of me. “Hey, Charlene, what’s happenin’ doll?”
Charlene was just as Mabs had described. Pimply, skinny, and pale-faced. I didn’t get the idea she spent much time outdoors. And when she didn’t look up immediately from her mobile phone, I guessed my assumptions were correct.
“Oh, hi, Aunt Mabs. What can I get ya?”
Mabs leaned over the counter. Her face grim as concrete. “We need to see your security camera tapes.”
“Huh? I, uh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m supposed to do that.”
“You were robbed weren’t ya, honey?”
“Yes, I was here alone. Gawd he was scary. Wore a mask and had a gun. I emptied the cash register. It wasn’t much. Gosh, I think he only got about thirty-three dollars, and change.”
I stepped forward. “Hi Charlene, we haven’t met. I’m Samantha Eggers, publisher of the Standard Weekly Standard.” She gave me a limp handshake. “Did the robber say anything to you?”
“Yeah. Yeah. He said, ‘Give me your money, sweetheart if you want to go home to mommy and daddy tonight.’”
Mabs said, “Charlene, we have reason to believe there’s a case of mistaken identity. We need to see your tapes.”
“Gosh, Aunt Mabs, maybe I should call Mr. Rocky—”
Mabs sped to the front door and flipped the Open sign to Closed. She grabbed Charlene by the arm and led her to the back office. “If you don’t show me those tapes, right now, I will tell the Sheriff you’re an accessory to withholding criminal evidence, and my next call will be to your mother and I will tell her in no uncertain terms what a snot you were to me. Now, let’s see it.”
“Okay, okay. Geez, take it easy Aunt Mabs. Okay.”
Charlene opened the door to the tiny office which was just large enough to hold a small desk, chair, and one three-drawer filing cabinet. Above the desk was a TV monitor and the security camera tape system. Charlene re-wound the tapes for the night of the robbery. We watched in silence as a man, who did look like Father, walk through the front door holding a pistol at his side. He had wild white hair, two colors of sneakers, and his zipper was down. But he wore a black mask, so it was hard to tell if it was really Father, or not.
“Oh, shit,” I said.
“Hold on,” Mabs said. “Let’s see the whole thing.”
Father, or the robber, walked straight to the counter and pointed his pistol at Charlene. The robber spoke to her but there was no audio for us to hear.
“That’s where he told me to give him all the cash, or else,” Charlene said.
On the video, we could only see the top of Charlene’s head. Her nervous hands opened the cash register, and she fumbled with a stack of bills before handing them to the robber, who one last time pointed his gun menacingly at Charlene and hurriedly left. The outside cameras caught him riding away on a bicycle.
“I’ll be the son of a monkey,” Mabs said.
I put my hand gently on Charlene’s shoulder. “Charlene, could we see this one more time, please?”
“Yeah, sure. Yeah.” She re-wound the tape. We watched the same series of events and when the robber approached the counter, I said, “Stop. Right there.” She froze the image. “See that?”
“What am I looking at?” Mabs said.
“That’s not Father.”
“Are you sure?”
“One Hundred Percent. Look. He’s holding the gun in his right hand and he’s wearing a black watch on his left hand. See that?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, Father is left-handed. He writes left-handed, he bowls left-handed, plays golf left-handed. The only thing he does right-handed is eat. I’ve been shooting with him all his life. He always shoots left-handed, and he wears a gold watch, not a black watch on his right hand. That robber is an imposter.”
“Charlene,” Mabs said. “I need you to make me a copy of this tape. Right away. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s easy, but you can’t tell Mr. Rocky.”
“You do that for me and my lips are sealed, honey. Now when I can I get that copy?”
“I can bring it over to your house tonight when I get off work.”
“That’s my girl.”
I thanked Charlene and reminded her of the importance of keeping this interaction between us secret. “Charlene, this evidence will prove my Father is innocent. Do you understand?”
She shook her head in the affirmative.
As Mabs and I drove away, My phone rang. It was Tom.
“Sam, I found your dad’s bicycle, but not him.”
“Where?”
“He, or someone, laid it at the front door of the Sheriff’s office.”
“Oh, my God. Do they have him?”
“No, I asked. He’s not here. I don’t think they knew about his bicycle, so, I tossed it into my truck. I’ll bring it back.”
“Thank you. I have to make another stop. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
Mabs gave me the one-raised-eyebrow look. “You two got something going on?”
“No, I don’t think so. He’s just been very kind to me.”
She giggled. “I’m sure he has.”
I changed the subject before Mabs could turn an innuendo into fact. “The night’s still young, Mabs. Let’s pay a visit to Sheriff Chad at his home. See if he’s there.”
“Oh, oh. No. No. You are asking for trouble.”
“Damn straight, Mabs. Damn straight.”
Poor Charlene...she doesn't have much going for her.
so exciting! New twist!