Sherlock and Me (The Case of the Starry Night)

  The man gingerly took the hose out and replaced my gas cap for me. Thank goodness the cap was attached by a little chain. I would have lost that sucker years ago…

  By the time we arrived at the museum, I was about done in. Cindy looked a little worse for wear as well. Baskerville looked quite chipper.

  And we had a dinner to get through…

  * * *

  CHAPTER 12

  Small tables with white linen tablecloths had been set up in the gallery in the middle of the Impressionist exhibition. Square glass vases holding lovely lavender orchids graced the tables giving out a subtle aroma and adding a touch of class. White china and polished silverware rounded out the elegant dinner scene in front of us.

  I glanced around, getting a real jolt out of the ambience. We were sitting by millions of dollars of fabulous art, sipping champagne and eating caviar. I’d just changed clothes in the bathroom of a mini-mart… What parallel universe had I stumbled into?

  Cindy was at another table, seated by Warren Sandstrom. Mr. Sir… I noticed he was giving her the full megawatt smile and occasionally touched her hand. She was giving him the virginal maiden performance and I wondered what she was up to. I was sitting by Dr. Schultz whom I was still dying to call Leonardo. Man, this guy’s cute! Whoever made the seating arrangements – Sue probably – gets my vote.

  I had just about bailed on the whole thing. We’d had cocktails downstairs in the open area by the café and I’d gone out once to check on Baskerville. He was still asleep in the front seat with one little paw curled around his curly head. When I returned, Marcie Crawford, of all people, came rushing up to me from out of nowhere. Damn, I hadn’t seen this flake since high school. Smiling viciously, she smoothed back her long, blonde hair and leveled those baby blues my way.

  “Lucy James! Why, it’s been forever. How have you been?”

  Now Marcie never did anything without a reason. I narrowed my eyes and scoped out the scene. She was speaking to me, but ogling Warren Sandstrom. That was probably the reason for the pseudo affectionate greeting. Once in high school, I’d managed to get a date to a basketball game with this really cute guy, Dave somebody. We were sitting in the bleachers when Marcie, a cheerleader, ended the cheer by doing the splits right in front of Dave and me. She’d even winked at him! That was my first and last date with the really cute guy. He dated Marcie a few times after that and then gave up on the both of us. I, of course, hadn’t forgotten…

  “Um… Marcie. Yeah, it’s been a while. Have you met Dr. Schultz?”

  “Of course, silly. I’m on the museum board.” She gave him a calculated look and her hand. “Eric, how are you this evening?”

  Eric blinked. Maybe he was reassessing the situation. If she did the splits right now, I was going to have to take her down. But she’d set her sights higher and left us quickly to move in on Warren Sandstrom III. I smiled… Cindy could snuff her easily, if she so chose.

  Luckily, Marcie was seated at yet another table by some board members and Sue O’Dell. Thanks, Sue. I’d have left for sure if that twit were at my table.

  Also seated with us were the café owner and his wife.

  “Dr. Schultz, have you met Russell Crowe and his wife, Marty?”

  I could see the confusion. A flush crept over his handsome Leonardo face and he swallowed once before opening his mouth.

  “How do you do?” He reached over to shake hands. “Ah…Russell Crowe, is it?”

  Crowe gave him a pained look. “Yeah, that’s right and no smart cracks. I’ve had it up to here,” he pointed to his chin, “with comments about that dopey movie guy with my name.” He jutted out that chin. “…Had it, you hear?”

  You’d think a guy who was short and round like Danny DeVito would be thrilled to be confused with a rugged guy like Russell Crowe, but apparently, that wasn’t the case here.

  “Back off, Crowe. He didn’t mean anything by it…” I began.

  Russell started to open his mouth and his wife elbowed him in the ribs. “Now Rusty, be good. You said you’d be on your best behavior tonight.” Crowe shook his head.

  “…Um…Sorry, Dr. Schultz. I guess I’m a bit testy tonight. Let’s have a toast.”

  We all blinked at that, but raised our flutes filled with fabulous champagne. “Here’s to a successful exhibition and that great Van Gogh painting…”

  We clinked glasses, took sips and everyone at our table turned to admire the painting. I glanced at Eric who wasn’t smiling. Russell Crowe wasn’t smiling either. What gives here? They both knew something that I didn’t and I decided then and there that I would find out what. Eric looked over at Sue at another table. She didn’t look unhappy… It was more of a puzzled expression. So Sue wasn’t sure what he knew either. Hmm… That raised the stakes a bit.

  Dinner was sumptuous with four courses and several exquisite wines. I was trying to keep my head, but somebody was always refilling one of my glasses. The fancy duck entree we ate was a far cry from the PBJ I’d made for lunch. No, I mused, I certainly wasn’t Julia Child, but then I never had known that Sherlock ate anything fancy either. That settled me down.

  But soon my head was beginning to swim and in my semi-inebriated haze, I cut off the next server who came by wanting to refill my half filled glass. Eric excused himself to visit the restroom and Russell Crowe joined him quickly after. Glancing over at Cindy’s table, Sandstrom was still stroking her hand, while Marcie glared at them. Guess Cindy had shut her down all right.

  I excused myself to splash water on my face. Walking down the dimly lit hallway to the ladies’ room, I heard voices. Feeling a bit wobbly, I leaned against the cool tiled wall for a minute.

  “Now wait a minute, Schultz. You don’t know that, for sure.”

  “Of course not, but it’s a fair assumption.”

  “Well, have you seen him?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he did it…”

  I stood up straight and listened harder. It was Dr. Schultz and Russell Crowe. So they knew each other… Then why pretend they didn’t? What was going on here?

  Using the bathroom facilities, I came out ready to go home. That stopped me cold. We had no home. We would have to go to a hotel or something tonight. What a holy mess this day had been.

  After dessert, I begged off the brandy being poured while everyone was heading over to view the paintings. My haze was lifting somewhat and it was getting late. It didn’t seem like anything illuminating was going to occur tonight, so I went over to Cindy and told her we needed to leave. Warren was whispering in her ear and I tugged on her arm.

  “Ready to go?”

  Cindy took one look and could probably see the alcoholic haze I was in.

  She nodded.

  “Listen, Warren. I’ve got to go.”

  “So soon? Why, the night’s young.” His smile showed off some very nicely capped teeth. He stroked her arm. “How about dinner next week?”

  Cindy flashed one of those smiles that made guys go weak at the knees. Sandstrom was no different.

  “Sure, Warren. Thursday will be fine.”

  “Great. I’ll call you Wednesday about the arrangements.”

  I noticed that Marcie was hanging on at the periphery of the conversation and couldn’t contain her disdain. It dripped off her. Pity…

  We left the museum after thanking our hostess – Sue O’Dell – and various board members. It had actually been a fairly nice evening, although not as productive as I would have liked.

  The outside lighting was dim and my nerves were shot around this place anyway. I jumped at one shadow and Cindy clicked her teeth.

  “Tsk tsk… Jumpy, are we?”

  “Cindy. Don’t start with me. A man died at that house over there, possibly being shot at, and Bobby was beaten up in this very alley. It’s a scene right out of a Hitchcock movie.”

  “It is kind of a creepy setting. Let’s get Baskerville and figure out where we’re spending the night.” She hiccu
pped. “Maybe we should get a cab instead, we’ve both had…”

  We walked to the car debating about the cab and wondering why the dog wasn’t barking. He always did when he heard us approach. It was his signature greeting. I opened the car door.

  “Lucy. Didn’t you lock the car when you checked on him?”

  “Jeez… Well…I…I thought I did…” My heart started beating rapidly. “He’s not here.”

  Her jaw dropped. “…Not here? Where the hell could he be?”

  I was desperately searching through the car. It didn’t take long. We looked up and down the alley, calling his name, but it was no use – Baskerville was gone…

  * * *

  CHAPTER 13

  “Where could he have gone?” Cindy’s eyes popped wide.

  “He couldn’t have gone anywhere on his own. His paws can’t open the door.”

  I sat down on the seat, my lower lip beginning to quiver. “He must have been dognapped!”

  “…Dognapped? You mean kidnapped.” Cindy’s eyes were misty.

  “Kidnapped, dognapped… He’s still gone and someone must have taken him.”

  I squirmed in the seat and heard a slight rustling sound. I lifted up and reached underneath me to see what was making the noise. Feeling paper, I pulled it out and took a look.

  Hi. Don’t be alarmed, but your dog was barking his poor little head off, so I took him home. The car door was unlocked. I live at the white house, 215, right on the alley behind the museum.

  Maggie Carmichael

  “Incredible…” Cindy had read the note over my shoulder, rubbing her eyes. “And very nice of her actually.”

  “I feel terrible leaving poor Baskerville here all alone. He must have awakened and gotten lonely.” I couldn’t have felt more rotten. We were eating caviar while the poor dog was probably scared stiff.

  “…Or hungry. It’s past nine.”

  We locked up the car and walked over to the big house on the alley, behind the art museum. How spooky was this? I’d actually been here a few nights ago and my memories weren’t pleasant ones. We walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. In a few minutes, we heard a lovely voice calling, “Be right there. Give me a minute.”

  And then we heard barking…

  She opened the door and Baskerville flew out, jumping into my arms! Cindy and I gave him a group hug. I might have sniffled a little…

  “Thank you so much, Mrs…”

  “…Carmichael. Maggie Carmichael. Please come in.”

  I gathered Baskerville tightly to me and walked into her kitchen. From there, we went out to the living room where Maggie waved a hand for us to sit on one of her couches. I fell back exhausted with Baskerville licking my face. In a minute, he turned to Cindy and began licking her face.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Carmichael. We were so worried.”

  “No… no… please. It’s fine. I don’t sleep well and I heard barking out by the alley. I went out to see what was up and saw him in the car, getting pretty excited. That’s when I tried your car door to see if I could help.”

  I looked at Cindy and blew out a deep breath. “I can’t tell you how relieved we are. We’ve had the day from hell and had to leave him in the car when we attended a dinner at the museum. There’s no excuse for our bad behavior, other than we were totally stuck. Leaving him in the car was our last alternative.”

  Maggie was an older woman, had short graying hair, and an appealing face. She looked like she’d had a happy life and her colorful house reflected that. She went to get us coffee and I looked around, while Cindy took Baskerville for a walk to do his business. Pots of flowers everywhere in a rainbow of colors overpowered the house with an abundance of fragrances.

  “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Carmichael.”

  “Please call me Maggie.”

  “Sorry…I’m Lucy and my friend is Cindy.”

  “Nice to meet you both… and Baskerville.”

  She brought me over a steaming mug of coffee. “Do you need milk or sugar?”

  “Neither thanks.” I blew into the hot liquid and took a tentative sip. Still hot. “Have you lived here very long?”

  She nodded, testing her own mug of coffee. “Ray and I lived here for over twenty years – good ones too, but he died recently.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I thought of something. “You know…I believe you and your husband were friends with my father.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Larry James…”

  She brightened. “Larry’s your father? How come we haven’t met before?”

  “…Don’t know, but it’s nice to meet you now.”

  Her eyes registered recognition. “…Oh, yes…Lucy James. Your father’s mentioned you.”

  “I bet he has…”

  Eyes twinkling now, “…But in a good way…”

  I let that go and took another sip of my coffee. “Was Ray sick for very long?”

  “He’d had heart problems for the past few years. There was a pretty major heart attack last month and then the one that finished him off just last week.”

  I squirmed in my seat. I was dying, maybe the wrong word, to ask her about the bullet I’d dug out of her staircase railing. How could I squeeze it into the conversation?

  Cindy came back in then.

  “Everything all right?” Maggie asked her.

  “Yes, indeed and I’ll spare you the jokes,” Cindy laughed with her.

  “Let me get you some coffee.”

  Baskerville curled up on my lap and promptly fell asleep. I stroked his curly little head as Maggie brought in the coffee for Cindy. She nudged me with her foot and I had to quit stalling.

  “Mrs. Carmichael…Maggie.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “This may be difficult, so my apologies in advance. But could you tell us about the night Ray died.” She looked at me strangely and I had to say something. “I…I’m just curious.”

  Maggie shrugged and took another sip. “Sure… Why not?” She looked out a window into the night and her memories.

  “Ray was restless. He’d been doing a lot of physical therapy and I guess he had nervous energy… Anyway, he headed out the door saying he wanted a quick smoke. Of course, I had to scold him because he was supposed to stop.” She looked over at us. “Doctor’s orders.”

  We nodded. “Please continue,” I encouraged.

  “…He wasn’t out very long when I heard the rain begin. Little taps started on the roof and the wind must have picked up because I heard the rain next on the windows. Thunder rocked the house and I ran to the back to see what was keeping Ray from coming inside. That’s when I found him face down in the mud by the staircase.”

  “He’d died?”

  “No. He died on the way to the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry to be so nosy, Maggie,” I said.

  “That’s all right, Lucy. I don’t mind.”

  “Did he say anything to you before he passed?”

  She looked at me sharply. “No, and you’re the second person to ask me that.”

  “Oh, did the police…” began Cindy.

  “No. Miss O’Dell from the museum asked me a few days later when she came to pay her respects.”

  “Sue O’Dell asked you?”

  “Yes, and she asked me something else that was strange.”

  “Like what?” I was sitting on the edge of my seat now.

  “…Like did I hear anything unusual that night?”

  “Did you?”

  “No, but…”

  She had me going… “But what?”

  “I do now. I’ve been watching the museum for the past week. You know, since the new exhibition has been there. I don’t sleep well, as I mentioned, so I’ve taken a few walks down the alley at night.”

  “Yes?”

  “There is a lot of activity at night. Comings and goings for a few nights… Trucks pulling up. Trucks taking off. Boxes being loaded and unloaded. S
eems awfully busy for an art museum – especially at night.”

  I felt like I’d hit some kind of pay dirt.

  “Has anyone seen you?”

  “No, I don’t think so. And there’s something else, Lucy.”

  “What’s that?”

  She shifted in her chair. “I… I sometimes wonder if Ray saw something that night. Something that maybe upset him, causing another attack. Oh, I don’t know. That’s too fanciful.” She sat back quickly and reached for her now cold coffee.

  “I think I’ll get a refill. Anyone else want one?”

  I shook my head and decided to keep the information about the bullet to myself. It might upset her too much right now. “No, thank you, Maggie. Thanks for your hospitality and taking care of our Baskerville, but we should be off.”

  “Thanks for the coffee, Maggie,” added Cindy.

  We got into the car, neither of us speaking. Cindy had Baskerville, dead weight now that he was sound asleep. His evening had been almost as exciting as ours.

  “Where are we going, Lucy?”

  “Dad’s of course. I’m not too flush right now, so crashing at Dad’s seems like a good idea.” I glanced over at her. “What do you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. If it’s only for one night.”

  “I’ll work on that tomorrow.”

  “But he hates Baskerville.”

  “…Maybe Mrs. Murphy will keep him for the day. That’ll give me the incentive to figure something out.”

  “Okay.”

  So that’s what we did – slept at Dad’s for the night and left Baskerville with Mrs. Murphy for the day. We didn’t see too much of Dad, getting there late and leaving early… Mrs. Murphy was feeling so guilty about not reporting the robbery on our apartment that she gladly took in Baskerville. I’m not too sure how Hamlet felt about it though. She was backing up when I set him on the floor. The last time I looked, naughty Baskerville was inching towards an enormous, quivering Great Dane. I could have sworn he had a sinister expression on his little doggy face. I could have been mistaken…

  * * *

  CHAPTER 14

  Work was eventful the next day. So far, I wasn’t having too many down days. Megan kept her cool with the customers at the concession counter, but practically exploded when the popcorn popper broke down. Damn! Try having a movie theater without popcorn! Some people actually wanted their ticket money back…