Sherlock and Me (The Case of the Starry Night)

  We walked over to a corner area with a couch and few chairs. We sat and the policeman gave me his sternest look.

  “…We have an ongoing investigation at this time because Mr. Springer was attacked last night.”

  I gulped. “Where and why did this happen?”

  “I can tell you the where – it was outside the art museum, around in back by the alley. But as of yet, I can’t tell you why. Mr. Springer isn’t speaking very well just yet.”

  That alley was getting a lot of traffic.

  “How did this get reported?”

  “A lady in a house nearby heard the noise and called us. We found him in the alley unconscious.”

  I swallowed hard. Poor Bobby… “But you have no idea why he was attacked.”

  “I’m not sure he knows. We got a little bit out of him before the doctor threw us out, and he really couldn’t tell us much.”

  “Do you know where he was before he was attacked? Had he been in the art museum?” A sinking feeling began to crawl around in my spleen.

  “Not sure, miss. Now could you give me your name and phone number, in case anything else comes up? We’d have a work contact for him at least.”

  I finished giving the officer the information he wanted and walked back to see Bobby.

  He looked terrible.

  All swathed in white bandages, hooked up to various machines that beeped and buzzed… Serene beige walls made a startling contrast to the colorful bruises already blooming on his face and arms. He’d really been worked over. Since he was asleep, I decided to come back later. I had that thing tonight with Cindy, but suddenly didn’t especially want to go back to the art museum. That place was beginning to make me stomach churn. And I had a nagging feeling that I might have done this to Bobby…

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, I opened the door to my apartment and was very happy to see that ball of white fluff hurtling down the hallway at me. I picked up Baskerville and gave him a big hug. Feeling vulnerable, I clutched him tightly, holding him close.

  “Knock, knock.” I jumped a foot off the floor. “Hey! Lucy…Just me.”

  Mrs. Murphy came through the door with Hamlet. Baskerville naturally had to show Hamlet who was boss. I put him down and he strode up to her smartly, while her tail went between her legs. Not an impressive sight for a Great Dane.

  “Mrs. Murphy.” I had a hand on my chest and was breathing hard.

  “Sorry if I scared you…”

  “Yes. No. What’s up?”

  “I have another lasagna for you. Cindy said you guys really enjoyed the last one and when I get cooking, I always make too much.” She handed me a big foil-wrapped pan. I peered in and took a big whiff of marinara sauce and mozzarella cheese. Mmm…

  “Very nice of you. We love your lasagna.”

  I headed for the kitchen and the refrigerator. Mrs. Murphy happily trailed after me, the bulky dress billowing behind her. Hamlet tried to follow too, but Baskerville wouldn’t let her. He plopped his tiny male, poodle body in front of her and she fairly quaked.

  “Lucy, listen. I just wanted you to know that the cable guys were here today. I saw them come in and heard Baskerville bark for a few minutes.”

  I stopped and turned back to her. “…Cable guys?”

  “”Yes. That’s what the truck said. I thought it was great you were finally getting cable. How many times can you watch the same old mysteries? Lots of good, new programs are on.”

  “Mrs. Murphy. Cable company people came into my apartment today?”

  “…Well, yes. I heard them knock and looked out my kitchen window to see who was there.”

  For once I was happy that she was so nosy.

  “And?”

  “I assumed you or Cindy were home because they went right on in with their equipment.”

  “Cable box stuff?”

  “I guess…”

  I put the lasagna in the refrigerator and walked Mrs. Murphy back to the door to show her out.

  “Thanks for the lasagna, but if that ever happens again, please call the cops.”

  “…The cops?” She paled.

  “Yeah. I didn’t order any cable service. I think I’ve been robbed.”

  “Oh, my God, Lucy! I’m so sorry! I had no idea…” She tugged on Hamlet’s leash, releasing her spell from Baskerville. “…I’ll leave you in peace. I hope nothing’s missing.”

  I was back in the bedroom when I heard Cindy come in the front door.

  “Now where’s that hound we call Baskerville?” she called out. I heard his recognizable bark and nails clicking on the floor as he flew down the hall.

  Coming out to the living room, she took one look at me and stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” Even Baskerville stopped licking her to turn his little head and stare.

  “I think we’ve been robbed, Cindy. Although…”

  “Robbed? Although what?”

  “I can’t find anything missing.” I looked around at the sparsely furnished apartment. “Not that we have that much to take anyway. I don’t care for lots of stuff and we both live like gypsies.”

  “Who wants to buy stuff just for the sake of buying? I get what I need. So do you…”

  “Regardless. We’re off track here. We had a break-in.”

  “Shouldn’t we call the cops?”

  “… Let’s sit down a minute and talk.”

  She narrowed her eyes but sat on the couch with Baskerville curled up in her lap. He doesn’t like to be too far from the action.

  So I took a few minutes and went through what she’d missed: Eating dinner at Dad’s, learning about his friend who died, going over to the friend’s house by the museum and digging a bullet out of the staircase railing. I told her about meeting Russell Crowe, the café guy and learning about his brother, the thief, who was just released from prison. When I got to Bobby, I had to take a deep breath. My eyes got misty and I reached for a tissue on the table.

  “So Bobby’s in the hospital?”

  “Yes…”

  “And you think you might have put him there.”

  I shrugged. “…Just don’t know. All I do know is that since he’s a painter, I thought he might enjoy the Impressionist exhibit at the art museum and mentioned it to him. Next thing I know he’s been beaten up and I’m talking to a cop investigating the incident.”

  “Is he still in the hospital?”

  I nodded.

  “Can you talk to him?”

  I shook my head.

  “…Not yet. He’s under heavy medication and is out for a while. He looked terrible. I feel terrible.”

  “Look, Lucy… Don’t blame yourself. It could just be a coincidence.”

  “Sherlock and I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “No indeed.”

  “… So I’m going to continue with full acceptance that everything that’s happened since I spoke to Sue O’Dell is happening for a reason.”

  “You just have to figure out the reason.”

  “That’s right.”

  Cindy and I stared at one another for a moment. I got up and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. I put the cool glass against my cheek and leaned against the sink.

  “What the hell are we going to do?” I asked her.

  Cindy had walked in behind me to feed Baskerville. She got down some doggie treats and gave him one. His pint-sized tail wagged energetically.

  “…About what?”

  “We can’t stay here, Cindy.”

  She looked up at me wide-eyed. “Why not?”

  “These guys could have put cameras around or something. I don’t have a clue what they were looking for, and maybe they weren’t looking for anything.”

  “…Maybe they planted something. Do you know what spy cameras look like?”

  “I know some and have looked, but I couldn’t find anything that resembled a camera. I think we need to stay someplace else for a while.”

  Her jaw droppe
d.

  “…Just until this business is completed.”

  “You think we’re being monitored.”

  “When you eliminate other factors, the one that remains must be the truth.”

  “Are you going to quote Holmes dialogue to me all day?”

  “Nope. Where can we go?”

  She looked around the room, hunching her shoulders. “Maybe we should discuss it elsewhere.” Her eyes made a wide sweep of the place. “…Catch my drift?”

  I nodded, my eyes sweeping everywhere with hers. “Yep.”

  She headed back to her bedroom, Baskerville moving briskly at her heels.

  “What are you doing?” I came up behind Baskerville.

  “We have a dinner to attend at the art museum tonight. Remember?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Shit…I don’t want to go anywhere near that place, Cindy.”

  “I know what you mean. I’m getting major bad vibes myself, but you told Sue you’d help.” She glanced over, tilting her head. “…Going to back off now? That’s not like you.”

  “People are getting hurt.”

  “…And more may get hurt, but you’re neck deep now.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  I swallowed hard. “Yes. All right.” I squared my shoulders and stuck out my jaw. “… I can do this.”

  “Yes, you can, but let’s start with what we’re wearing tonight. It’s not formal, but it is dressy.”

  It took a while but we finally found dresses that we thought would do for the occasion. We packed a bag each too, since we needed to get out of here tonight.

  “I’d rather dress at a gas station than here.”

  “I hear you, so let’s do that.”

  “…Dress at a gas station?”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  Cindy looked at me and laughed. “This is another adventure for us, Lucy. You know that, right?”

  I winked at her. “Gotcha, Ethel. Maybe Ricky will come save us.”

  “We should be so lucky… Oh!” She stopped in the center of the room and smacked her hand lightly against her head.

  “What?”

  “What will we do with Baskerville?”

  We both thought about that for a minute.

  “… I could bring him in my oversized bag and stick him under the table…”

  She frowned, shook her head. “You can’t take a dog to a formal dinner.”

  “We could leave him in the car. Where are we going to spend the night anyway?”

  Her eyes darted around again. “…Not now, remember?”

  “Then we’ll have to leave him in the car until we figure something…”

  I ran out of breath. Too many details in too short a time period. I needed a glass of wine and needed it now. I walked into the kitchen and poured a small glass.

  I’d been feeling vulnerable when I came home after seeing poor Bobby in the hospital. Now I felt vulnerable and violated, having had uninvited guests in my apartment for whatever reason. I took a sip wondering who could have sent these guys and why.

  Taking another sip, I wondered why Eric Schultz had left in such a hurry the night he showed me Van Gogh’s painting… Why would anyone beat up Bobby? I took a sip thinking of Sue’s complaint about the security guards and one more sip wondering why, oh why, was that umbrella ever left in the movie theater in the first place.

  Cindy came along then and took the wineglass out of my hand.

  “Too many sips and too little action. Come on… Let’s go. By the time we get dressed and get gas, it’ll be time to head for the dinner.”

  I glanced at the kitchen clock and sighed deeply giving my wineglass a last lingering look.

  “There’s more wine where we going,” she encouraged.

  I grabbed my dress and luggage, heading for the front door. Cindy grabbed a dress, bag and Baskerville. I waited outside for her and locked the door behind us. Mrs. Murphy waved at us from her porch, a slight frown on her face.

  Hmm… Mrs. Murphy… Food for thought. I’d talk to Cindy about that idea later.

  * * *

  Of course, we had to argue over where to stop for gas. I wanted to stop at a gas station closer to mid-town where I’d used the restroom before. It was clean… my major demand. Cindy argued that it was too far away and we were pressed for time. We settled on the closest place -- the mini-mart a few blocks over. It was run by that nice Pakistani couple who’d just bought it from that nice Iranian couple. Beads and elephants now decorated the interior of the mini-mart with incense burning by the door. Cindy went in to get the restroom key, while I lugged out my bag under one arm and Baskerville under the other. I met Cindy around in back where the restroom was located. When she opened the door, I stepped in and looked around. My eyes threatened to roll back in my head.

  “Look at this place.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

  Cindy entered and took a quick glance, which is about all it took. The space was large enough for one sink, one toilet and two small people. Certainly not two regular-sized people and one toy poodle.

  “I guess we’ll have to take turns.”

  Cindy shook her head. “Look at the time.” She stuck the arm with her wristwatch up in my face.

  “Well, if you hadn’t argued about where to go, we would have been somewhere sooner.”

  “Yes, and…”

  My hands flew up. “Never mind, but tell me -- How will we change in here together? And with Baskerville?”

  Cindy, ace logistics person that she is, put on her imaginary thinking cap. She thought for a moment, her eyes brightened and she had it…I could almost see a cartoon exclamation point above her head.

  “Easy. Just bring in exactly what we need. No bags. We’ll dress first and then go back out for the makeup.”

  I gave her my best I-can’t-believe-you-said-that look. “…and the dog?”

  She looked around. Maybe she was hoping the space would suddenly expand. “He can sit on the toilet.”

  “Or for Pete’s sake…”

  “Just do it, Lucy. There’s no time to dawdle.”

  So we trudged back out to the car, opened the bags and took out what we needed for tonight’s dinner – shoes, clean underwear, dresses. I had put Baskerville’s leash on him, just in case he got any funny ideas about making a break for it.

  The three of us went back into the restroom together and I just shook my head. I just didn’t see how this could work. I put Baskerville on the toilet and told him to stay. Sometimes he minds. Of course, this wasn’t one of those times. He jumped down off the toilet seat just as Cindy and I had begun removing our clothes.

  You’d think we were performing some kind of ballet. Cindy said it would be easier if we did the same thing at the same time so… I raised my arms to take off my tee shirt, as Cindy did the same. We stood there together waving our arms in the air removing shirts, performing the first part of the ballet. I tried to get Baskerville to jump back on the toilet seat, but he just barked at me and hid under the sink.

  Next we took off our jeans at the same time – Pretty tricky, since Baskerville’s little mind must have played tricks on him and he got the idea to tug on a leg of my jeans. He leaned in, clamped his jaws down on some material much too close to my leg. I was stuck now with my jeans half-off and Cindy suddenly got a case of the giggles. With the dog tugging and us dissolving into laughter, the next part of the ballet was unraveling – This was no Swan Lake… Cindy blew out a breath and we managed to get out of our jeans. Baskerville pulled mine under the sink and curled up on them.

  Trying to put on the dresses at the same time wasn’t working well. I got an arm stuck in Cindy’s dress while she put a hand through my collar. We were twisted and turned around. I thought I was smoothing down my skirt and it was actually Cindy’s. Baskerville looked from me to Cindy, probably thinking we’d lost our minds. I was beginning to think so too.

  “That’s it!” I said rather l
oudly when I finally got my dress on. “Zip me up and I’m going to the car for makeup.”

  “Don’t you want to brush your teeth?”

  “…Too much togetherness, Cindy. I’m out of this closet.”

  Foundation, mascara, lip gloss… Not bad for using the tiny rearview mirror in my car. I could only see a small section of my face at one time, but I believe I put makeup on the appropriate facial features. Cindy hopped back in the car with Baskerville.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yep. Let’s go,” she said. “Wait a minute.” She turned my face around to see it better. “You’ve got too much blush on. Could you actually see what you were doing in here?”

  “Sort of. Rub it in.”

  Cindy attempted to smooth out the blush on my cheeks, while I put the key in the ignition and started the car. This was the craziest way to get dressed that I’d ever experienced. Hopefully, I’d never do it again. And where was my brush? My hair was sticking up in the oddest places.

  “Wait!” Cindy yelled. “You forgot to get gas. You’re on empty. Look!”

  “Damn.” She was right. I pulled into one of the bays at the mini mart and got out to pump the gas. After putting in my credit card and punching the necessary buttons, I opened the gas cap and stuck in the hose. Gas soon began flowing into my tank. I absently glanced into the back of the car and saw Baskerville chewing on one of my shoes.

  “Hey! Make him stop!” I yelled at Cindy. She dutifully tried to catch him but he dodged out of her grasp with my shoe in his mouth.

  Now the car’s not that big and neither was the dog, but we still had trouble grabbing him and relieving him of one of the shoes I needed for this evening. I couldn’t go in my present flip-flops.

  The gas clicked off just as I managed to get the shoe away from Baskerville. He pouted, or what I assumed was a doggy pout, as I got in the car, started it up and began to drive away. All of a sudden, the Pakistani couple was running beside the car and waving their arms at me to stop. I did and rolled down the window.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes,” the man puffed. “…You’re taking my gas hose with you.”

  I glanced out the window and sure enough… the hose was still in my car. I looked at Cindy who rolled her eyes.

  “Super…”

  I got out of the car. “I’m so sorry. Let me pay for the damages.”

  They were both very nice and acted like it happened all the time.

  “No… no. We wouldn’t hear of it. Just be more careful from now on.”