Good Night Sleep Tight Don't Let the Stalkers Bite (Charlie Bannerman Mysteries) Read online

  “Thanks again, Harry,” Keaton said, shaking his hand. “I appreciate you coming out on short notice.”

  “Anytime, Keaton, anytime,” he said before he drove off, towing my car with him. “What is in the envelope, Charlie?”

  “Just a note.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It’s nothing important.”

  “Your face says otherwise.”

  “My face says nothing. Thanks for the ride, for breakfast, and for sending Harry to look at my car. I’ve got some writing to do, so if you don’t mind,” I said and started closing the door.

  He put his hand against the door to stop me. “See, I did all this stuff for you; the least you could do is show me the note. If it is nothing like you say, then no harm done and I’ll be on my way. Piece of cake.”

  “Was it addressed to you?”

  “Actually, there wasn’t a name on the envelope. So it could be for anyone.”

  “Was it found on your car?”

  “No,” he conceded, “It was on yours.”

  “Therefore it was meant for me and not you. Goodbye, Keat…HEY! Give that back!” I said as Keaton reached out and grabbed the note from her hand.

  Unfolding the note, the multi-colored block letters spelled out: “MINE, NOT YOURS. GET YOUR OWN!!” He looked up at me. “What the heck does this mean?”

  I snatched the note back. “I have no idea. It can’t be about the car. My parents bought that car for me when I graduated from high school years ago. Maybe the previous owner wants it back.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it’s about the car,” Keaton frowned. “Maybe the note person poured the sugar in the gas tank.”

  “If it is sugar,” I corrected. “I have been meaning to take the Beetle in for a tune-up, just haven’t had the time. Harry will fix the problem, and that will be the end of it.”

  “If you say so,” Keaton said, although he wasn’t convinced. “Dinner tonight? There’s a good playoff game on tonight.”

  Never one to miss a playoff game, I reluctantly agreed. I would just make sure that Sydney would be here, too.

  CHAPTER 3

  I mentioned Mr. Crubbs earlier. Let me give you a little more background on him. Franklin Crubbs lives alone, having been married twice and divorced twice. Being a World War II Army veteran, he loves war movies and any movie with John Wayne. I know this because we have movie night once a week at my house, chowing down on popcorn and talking about the Duke for hours. A guy like that can’t be all that bad, right?

  There is a bus that runs down our street, and despite the fact that he isn’t supposed to drive anymore because of his eyesight, Mr. Crubbs refuses to get on the bus. Instead, he sits outside on his porch and flips off the bus driver, who is a former Navy Seal. It’s that whole Army vs. Navy thing. He doesn’t hesitate to tell you exactly what he thinks, gets straight to the point, and can be rather coarse and rude about it if he believes in it passionately enough. Because of all his medical problems, he qualifies for home health care, but the nurses that show up never last long. One of them told me that he actually pinched her butt several times.

  The one thing that keeps Mr. Crubbs going, though, is his war with the neighborhood kids. They constantly egg his house, throw toilet paper in his trees and bushes, leave poop bombs on his front porch…well, you get the idea. Once in a while, I see bright lights fill the sky, which means the kids have triggered one of his booby traps, and you can hear them running down the street. I know he is plotting something big. I have seen him hunched over the workbench in his garage, but I can’t tell what he is working on. Whatever it is, you can be sure it will be the talk of the neighborhood for weeks.

  Unfortunately for me, Sydney already had plans for the evening, so I was stuck with Keaton. It’s not that he’s a bad guy. I just know that he wants to go out on a date, but I am not as inclined. My last boyfriend, Cash Christian, turned me off relationships for a while, and I was content with being single until I could get over the hurt and pain that Cash had caused me.

  Keaton showed up with pizza and Dr Pepper at 6 p.m., and even brought some treats for my dog. Duke does not trust men very much; he was abused as a puppy and taken in by the animal shelter. I found him there, and his ice blue puppy eyes melted my heart instantly. Keaton knows about the abuse, and he never makes any sudden moves while he is around Duke, and he always makes sure to bring a little something special for him when he comes for a visit. If Keaton is trying to get to me through my dog, it won’t work. But it is a point in his favor.

  Don’t get me wrong. Keaton is a handsome guy in a rugged sort of way. Dark brown hair, grey eyes, he always wears a t-shirt, jeans and work boots, and in the winter, he wears a flannel shirt over the t-shirt topped with a leather jacket. Not that I notice these things or anything.

  “Have you heard from Harry?” Keaton asked as he reached for another piece of pizza.

  “Yes, I did. Sugar in the tank, a potato in the tail pipe.”

  “Damn! Someone has it out for your car!”

  “Probably you.”

  “Hey, just because I trash talked your car doesn’t mean I would intentionally disable it. You can talk bad about someone’s car, but never, EVER destroy it. That is bad juju.”

  “I was joking. He said it would be a couple of days before he could return it to me. He also said that the bill was already taken care of. Know anything about that?”

  “Not a thing,” Keaton replied, using his best innocent schoolboy look. “I know better than to do that. You have made your position clear about paying your own way. Which reminds me, you own me $20 for the pizza and Dr Pepper.”

  “Date, remember? Which means YOU pay.”

  “Hm, got me there,” he laughed. He took another bite. “Have you given any thought to that note?”

  “No, why would I?”

  “Didn’t sound very friendly to me.”

  A loud crashing sound interrupted us. Keaton grabbed me, shoved me to the floor and covered me with his body as another crashing sound was heard, quickly followed by a third. “Get off, you oaf!” I said as Duke growled at the front door. I picked up Duke, not an easy feat and carried him into the bathroom, closed the door and went back to the living room.

  Glass littered the floor, and I could see that three windowpanes in a row were broken. There were three medium-sized rocks lying amidst the broken glass. Someone has pretty good accuracy, I thought grimly. “We should check on Mr. Crubbs,” I said. “I’ll bet this has to do with his fight with the kids.”

  “If it does, we should find out which kid did this and make their parents pay for the windows,” Keaton replied.

  But we discovered that Mr. Crubbs wasn’t even home. All the lights were out, and he wasn’t lurking in the shadows waiting on the boys to show up. “Someone has an axe to grind with you, Charlie,” Keaton remarked as we walked back to my house. “Have you pissed anyone off lately?”

  “No more than usual.”

  “Could it be Cash?”

  I shuddered, hoping Keaton didn’t notice me do it. “I don’t think so. He has been busy with Deja lately to bother me.” Deja Taylor was Cash’s latest girlfriend, and just as nuts as he is, which is why they get along so well. I am pretty sure that Deja didn’t have to worry about Cash cheating on her, because if he did, she would probably shoot him in a place that is better left unmentioned.

  “You should still call Bernie. You’ll need to a police report to file a claim with your insurance.”

  “So much for the game,” I grumbled as I dialed Chief Bernie Gibson’s home number, who also complained about being called away from the game, but agreed to be at my house in fifteen minutes.

  “You piss someone off lately, Charlie?” Bernie said after checking out the damage.

  “Why does everyone think I go around trying to tick people off?” I said.

  “You don’t do it intentionally,” Bernie said, “but you do have a natural gift for upsetting people. Almost as natural as your abil
ity to trip over a speck on the floor and break an arm. Nice Caddy Doc Lance is driving now, did you notice?”

  I just glared at him. “Would you just write the report? I need to call my insurance agent and arrange for someone to come fix this.”

  “You won’t find old Bert in town. He took his new boat up to Oklahoma to do some fishing.”

  “Don’t worry, Charlie,” Keaton said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call one of the guys from the office and get him to recommend someone.”

  “Shoot, just call Harry. His brother Larry is the one that owns the glass company.”

  Small town living. Gotta love it.

  Chapter 4

  I could tell that Larry and Harry were brothers, right down to the plumber’s crack when Larry bent over to pick up his toolbox after he finished nailing plywood into the empty panes. “I’ll be back in the mornin’ to put in yer new panes, Ms. Bannerman.”

  “Thank you, Larry. I appreciate you coming out so late.”

  “No problem, ma’am. Good to see ya again, Keaton,” Larry said, shaking his hand before roaring off in his truck.

  “Why don’t you stay at your parents’ house tonight, Charlie?” Keaton suggested.

  “Because my room is now Dad’s study,” I replied. “I’ll be fine here. I have Duke and Mr. Crubbs is next door. No problem.”

  Keaton wasn’t convinced, but agreed not to sleep in his truck in front of my house. “Call me if you need anything.”

  Thankfully for me, nothing else happened the rest of the night, except for tripping over Duke in the dark on my way to the bathroom. But the next morning, there was a rude surprise waiting for me on the front steps.

  “Deja! What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for Cash. Someone told me they saw his truck here last night. I know he’s in there. ”

  “The hell he is.”

  Deja jumped up and stood in front of me. “He didn’t come home last night, and he has been griping about you the last few days. So don’t tell me he isn’t here,” she finished, poking me in the chest.

  I heard a growl and saw Duke standing in the doorway. I held out my hand, palm down, and he sat, but kept his eyes on our uninvited guest. “I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, Deja. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks. If he came over here, Duke would rip his leg to shreds, Mr. Crubbs would shoot his butt full of buckshot, and Cash knows it. He would only come over here under cover of night, and even then only if drunk. I suggest you go home and see if he is there.”

  “I want to go inside and see for myself,” Deja retorted, trying to shove her way into the house. Duke immediately stood up, growled and bared his teeth. She backed away, stumbling down the steps.

  “Obviously Duke doesn’t think that is a good idea, either,” I said, grabbing his collar with my left hand. “Go home, Deja, or I’ll call Bernie and have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Deja made a move toward the front door again, but the cocking of a shotgun stopped her. “I do believe Charlie asked you to leave, miss,” Mr. Crubbs said, walking up behind Deja. “I suggest you just go on home now before this gets ugly.”

  Deja glared at me. “Stay away from him, Charlie. There are things going on that you’ll never understand. You tell that scum sucking pig I’ll be waiting at home for him.” She scurried around Mr. Crubbs, got in her car and drove off.

  “Thank you, Mr. Crubbs,” I said gratefully, releasing Duke’s collar. I massaged my fingers; I didn’t realize just how tightly I had been holding onto the collar.

  “No problem, Charlie,” he said. “Good thing she backed off. I forgot to grab my shells.” He patted Duke on the head. “We had things covered, didn’t we, boy?” Duke answered with a resounding yes. Looking at the plywood, Mr. Crubbs shook his head. “Seems you had some problems last night.”

  “I think your enemies aimed for the wrong house last night,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Not my boys. They don’t break windows anymore, not after the last time. I made them clean my gutters, mow the yard and paint two coats on my shed. Since then, they don’t aim at the windows.”

  I thanked Mr. Crubbs again for his help, called for Duke and went back inside. Maybe it was Deja who broke them. Keaton’s F150 looks nothing like Cash’s beat up Dodge Ram, although they are the same color. On the other hand, it’s pretty hard to confuse an F150 for a Dodge Ram.

  I went to the kitchen, poured some food and water for Duke, pulled eggs, ham and cheese out of the fridge to make an omelet. The doorbell rang before I could start and Duke ran for the door, barking his head off. Grabbing his collar, I said, “Who is it?”

  “Who do you think it is? Are you expecting the boogeyman?” Sydney Tracy’s voice came through the door.

  I opened the door and let her in. “Sorry, I’ve had a few problems around here. Just being extra cautious.”

  Sydney knelt down and gave Duke a hug. “So I’ve heard. Sugar in the gas tank, potato in the muffler, and three broken windows.”

  “And Deja Taylor on the front steps this morning.”

  Sydney followed me into the kitchen. “Deja? Are you kidding?”

  “Nope. She thought Cash spent the night here last night and was planning to tear my house apart to look for him. Duke and Mr. Crubbs’ shotgun changed her mind.” I opened the back door so Duke could take care of his business outside.

  “That girl is certifiably bonkers, Charlie. She knew what she was getting into when she started dating Cash.”

  “Love is a strong emotion, Sydney, you know that,” I said, chopping some ham. “Someone told me about Cash before I started dating him, and I didn’t listen any more than Deja. You have to make the mistakes in order to learn from them.”

  Sydney watched as I made our omelets. “My, my, haven’t you become philosophical?”

  “Maybe. I just hope I don’t make the same mistakes again.”

  “Are you referring to Keaton?”

  “What makes you think I’m talking about him?”

  “People talk,” Sydney said slyly. “You had breakfast with him AND your mother yesterday morning, and he was over here last night for dinner and a game. Both times, he rode to the rescue.”

  “He did not ‘ride to the rescue’,” I said hotly. “He just happened to be here when I discovered the car wouldn’t start, and he just happened to be here when someone threw rocks through the window.”

  “And both times, he calls his people to come and take care of the problem. Pretty convenient, if you ask me.”

  “Coincidence.”

  Sydney shrugged. “If you say so. What are your plans for today?”

  “Laundry, working on my novel, writing some articles, bringing world peace to everyone.”

  “Ah, same old stuff, then. Nothing. Want to come with me to Dallas? I have to show a house.”

  “I’d rather have root canal.”

  “Ouch, that’s cold. Do you have any errands you need to run, or things you want me to pick up for you since you are carless? Or do you plan to ask Keaton for help?”

  “I do not plan to go anywhere. If I need something, it can wait until I get the car back. I can always call Mother. Which reminds me, she would like some recommendations from you on places to stay in New England. They want to go there for their fall vacation.”

  “Still on the outs with my mother, is she?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “I’ll talk to my travel agent and see what I can do. Sometimes my mother can be a bit stubborn, but she means well.” Sydney looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for breakfast,” she said, scooping the last bite into her mouth. “You should think about opening a restaurant. Your cooking is fantastic.”

  “No thanks. I don’t want Rachel to think I’m trying to take her business. She’d cut off my pecan pie supply.”

  After Sydney left, I thought about her comments regarding Keaton. It was total coincidence that he was around when things went wrong yesterday…wasn’t it?

  T
he ringing doorbell stopped my speculations. “What did you forget, Sydney?” I said as I opened the door. It wasn’t Sydney.

  It was Cash.

  Chapter 5

  “Hey babe,” Cash said, shoving open the door and walking in. “How’s it going?”

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Cash sat down on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “I just stopped by to say hi. Thought you might need a ride since your car is kaput.”

  I shoved his feet off the table. “And how do you know my car is kaput?”

  “I was at Harry’s Garage this morning and saw it there. Shame about the sugar in the tank. Can’t believe someone would do that to a classic car like that.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did it yourself, Cash.”

  Cash looked hurt. “That was uncalled for, babe. I would never hurt that precious car of yours. I appreciate a fine automobile like that.”

  I found that hard to believe, since Cash once threatened to take a sledgehammer to my car if I didn’t take him back after I broke up with him. “I suggest you worry less about me and more about your own situation.”

  “What situation?”

  “The situation named Deja.”

  “Oh, her.”

  “She was camped out on my porch this morning, convinced that you had spent the night here. She was ready to tear my house apart to look for you, and I’m pretty sure she would not have been whispering sweet nothings in your ear.”

  “She’ll get over it,” he said dismissively.

  “Seriously? If you believe that, you do not know that girl very well, Cash. The last time a guy cheated on her, she ran him over with her car, and threatened to do it again if he pressed charges.”

  “I can handle Deja.”

  I walked over and opened the front door. “Then I suggest you get home and ‘handle’ her. And don’t come back here again.”

  Cash got up and closed the door. “Now babe, I know you don’t mean that.” He ran a finger along my jaw. “I know you miss me. You don’t really want me to go,” he said, bending over and kissing my neck.”