The Walnuts

  Everyone rushed down the hall into her bedroom.

  Paul had gotten into her bed with all his clothes on, including his cowboy boots, and had pulled the covers neatly up under his chin. The outline of his body and his boots were sticking smartly up under the bedspread.

  Everyone laughed when they walked into the room. Danielle grabbed the phone and called the police.

  *

  Nothing could budge Paul while they waited for the police. He wouldn’t say anything. He just stared straight up with a stupid, blank look on his face. The covers were pulled up to his chin. Only his fingers show on each side of his face. Danielle continued to berate him, and everyone continued laughing, except for Heather, who stood in the hall, still itching to use the skillet.

  “Whatever you do,” John told Bonnie, who was stationed at the bedroom door, tears streaming down her face from laughing, “don’t let her in that room.” John indicated Heather. “I’m afraid she’ll really hurt him.”

  *

  The police arrived and one officer went into the bedroom with Danielle following, explaining the situation. The other officer stayed out in the hall with Heather, who was still clutching the skillet.

  “Mr. Dinglehoff, you have to get out of her bed,” said the officer in the bedroom.

  “I live here,” Paul whined, “and it’s not Dinglehoff. They’re just making fun of me.”

  “I can’t imagine how that could happen, considering the way you’re behaving,” said the officer, getting angry. “Mr. Dinglehoff, she doesn’t want you in her bed. You have to get out.”

  “I’m tired and I have to go to sleep. And I told you, that’s not my name.”

  “I’m not going to go through this again. Get out of her bed, now!” he ordered.

  “But she should adore me,” said Paul.

  Danielle laughed, bleating again. “Paauuuull, the only adoration you’ve ever experienced was from the poor little sheep on that farm where you grew up.”

  “I’ll get him up!” Heather yelled from the hall. The other officer laughed, keeping her out of the bedroom.

  “Sir, I’m losing my patience,” said the officer in the bedroom.

  “I live here,” Paul said calmly.

  “I don’t care where you live! Is this your bed?”

  “Sometimes.”

  The officer, in the bedroom, turned and asked Danielle, “Has he ever been in this bed before?”

  “What the hell has that got to do with anything?” she shouted. “He’s in my bed with his boots on, and I want him out!”

  “Ma’am, if this is a lover’s quarrel—”

  Danielle gave the officer an incredulous look. She was shaking her head, not sure of what to do. Suddenly, she got a wicked smile on her face. “That’s it!” shouted Danielle. “I tried to be decent, but now I’m getting “the book”!” She stomped out of the room.

  “Damn, why didn’t I think of that?” Heather said as her mother rushed by her in the hall, heading for the bookcase in the den.

  Heather stepped out from the wall and poked her head around the officer guarding her. She shouted into the bedroom, “Hey, Paul! Boy, you’re screwed now! Mother’s getting “the book”.”

  “She promised she would throw it away,” whined Paul, frightened.

  “What book? What’s she talking about?” asked the officer in the hall.

  Paul pulled the covers up even tighter. “Don’t let her hurt me with that book. It’s evil.”

  “Oh no!” Heather exclaimed. “Not, “the book”. Mother, you can’t.” She winked at the officer next to her. “Don’t be so cruel.”

  Danielle returned, pushing past the officer in the hall and into the bedroom. She held a medium-sized black book out in front of her and pointed it at Paul. “You asked for it, motherfucker!” she said, advancing on Paul.

  “Don’t touch me with that!” he screamed.

  In one almost-continuous movement, he got up from under the covers, scrambled over the bed—away from Danielle—and backed into the far corner of the bedroom. His face was white.

  “What the—?” exclaimed the officer in the room.

  “I warned you, Paul,” Danielle said venomously, coming around the bed with the black book out in front of her.

  “Help me!” pleaded Paul, looking at the officer for help. “This is murder!”

  “Murder, what the hell is going on here?” the officer in the hall said, stepping into the bedroom and reaching for his gun. The other officer winked at him and whispered, “I don’t know, but just play along.”

  Paul crouched into the far corner, trying to be paint on the wall and get as far from the book as possible. Danielle stood in front of him with the book—pointed straight at him—steady in her hand.

  “Paul!” Danielle yelled with a sinister tone. “I’m serious. If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to touch you with it.”

  “But I want to live here again. I want us to be a family,” he said, trembling.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. You ruined that long ago. Now leave!”

  Danielle jabbed the book forward, inches from Paul. He shot straight up and, with a terror-filled wail, leaped away from Danielle and scrambled across the bed.

  Heather and her guard flattened themselves against the wall to give the fleeing Paul open running room.

  Danielle rushed out after Paul. She was determined to use the book now that she realized its true power. Paul’s blubbering continued as he burst through the front door and ran down the driveway. He was putting ground between him and “the book” as fast as he could.

  “What the hell?” the one officer said, shaking his head and coming out of the bedroom.

  “Where can I get one of those?” asked his partner.

  “Yeah, that could come in handy. I’ve got a brother-in-law I wouldn’t mind using it on.”

  “It only works with simple minds,” said Heather.

  “That would be my brother-in-law,” he said.

  “What kind of book is that?” asked the other officer.

  “It’s ‘The Egyptian Black Book of the Dead,’” said Danielle, giving it to the officer. “I bought it at a garage sale. It’s full of all these incantations. I showed it to Paul, and he got all wigged out. He claimed that if you wanted terrible things to happen to someone, all you have to do is touch them with it. He said one of his evil aunts had this same book. She would use it on people, and great harm would come to them. Some silly incantations that were supposed to call up evil spirits to do your dirty work for you.”

  “I can’t believe a grown man would fall for that sort of thing,” said the other officer.

  “He’s a golf pro, so he’s really stupid and superstitious,” said Danielle.

  “I knew they were prima donnas, but I didn’t realize they were crazy like that.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Bonnie, jumping in, “I worked at a golf course for years. I knew one pro that wouldn’t touch himself cause he claimed the motion was all wrong and it hurt his putting. I made scads of easy money saving his stroke.”

  The officers burst out laughing.

  “Well, I guess we’d better go see if we can find that looney tune. Sooner or later we’re going to get a call about him drooling on something.”

  *

  “Geez, Danielle, that was the craziest one yet. Where did you find him?” Bonnie asked, watching the officers back out of the driveway.

  Danielle shrugged. “He was a friend of a friend of a friend, and I didn’t realize he was that nuts.”

  “He got in some car accident,” Heather said, “and got all this money, and then got the hots for my mother.”

  “Oh, hush up, snot.”

  “Am not!” said Heather. “Needless to say,” she continued over her shoulder, leaving the room, “he’s now broke and bewildered.”

  “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” said Danielle. “Hey, we’ve got to get going. Ricky’s expecting us.” Danielle turned to Bonnie. “Hey, we’re
supposed to go to Ricky’s, want to come?”

  “No way, I don’t trust that guy one bit,” she said.

  “Oh, come on, we’re going over to his girlfriend’s. How bad can it be?” asked Danielle.

  “A woman friend of Ricky’s? Are you kidding?” Bonnie asked. “The nut job that just ran out of here is closer to a pillar of the community than anything Ricky hangs around with. No, thanks.”

  “Oh, spoilsport, you’re getting old and boring,” said Danielle.

  Chapter 18

  Danielle and John were walking up to a big, expensive looking house.

  “This broad is loaded,” said Danielle. “Used to be a Hollywood celeb back in her day. Of course the good life’s taken its toll, and she ain’t what she used to be.”

  “Hey, Ricky!” she shouted, opening the front door and sticking her head inside.

  A moment later Ricky was walking down the hall to meet them.

  “Hey, guys, glad you could come over.”

  “More wacko juice, damn it!” yelled a woman from the back of the house.

  “I told you, we’re out! You drank it all!” Ricky shouted back.

  “Well, damn it, we’re on a run then!” shouted the woman.

  “Oh no, here we go,” said Ricky, exasperated. “Damn I hate it when she gets like this. There’s no stopping her.”

  “Well, we can just go down to the store for you, if you want,” offered Danielle.

  “Nah, she’ll get all crazy if she doesn’t get to go.”

  “Well, we can drive you guys.”

  “Nah, she’ll flip out if she doesn’t get to drive. It’s only a few blocks.”

  “Geez, Ricky, she sounds really drunk.”

  “You can’t stop her, not when she’s out of vodka. She gets wacko, and I’m supposed to be responsible for her, so I need to watch her.”

  “Oh, Ricky, not another one. Don’t you ever learn your lesson?”

  “Hey, this one’s got twelve million.”

  “Dollars?”

  “Yeah, she’s loaded,” Ricky said, rubbing his hands together.

  “And how do you figure you’re going to get any of that money?” asked Danielle.

  “I made a deal with her brother.”

  “What’s he got to do with all this?”

  “He’s the executor of the estate,” he explained. “They won’t give her the money unless she straightens up a bit. She’s just on an allowance now, but if she can behave herself, and that’s where I come in, she gets the whole bundle.”

  Danielle chuckled. “And you’re on your way to get her more vodka? I see they got the right man for the job.”

  “Nah, nah, I’ve been getting her on an exercise program, and I’m going to wean her slowly. It’ll work, I tell ya.”

  “Ricky, none of your schemes work. Remember the Countess?”

  “I wonder what happened to her? A lovely lady—when she was in her right mind,” he added with sincerity.

  Danielle snickered. “And how often was that?”

  “Hey, you guys are the ones that got her drunk.”

  “Oh, by the way,” said Danielle, “Ross called the ranch looking for you.”

  “Oh . . . what did he have to say?”

  “He’s not too happy with you. Apparently that big-shot country club demanded his resignation immediately. No telling what that crazy woman did. Mom was messing with him, playing dumb, and trying to get him to tell her what happened. She wanted the sordid details, but he just got mad and hung up.” Danielle stopped for a moment and looked around. “This is a lovely house,” she added. “This hers?”

  “No, it’s a rental, but it’s a high-dollar one.” Ricky looked around proudly.

  “Wacko juice run!” shouted a tall, emaciated woman, rushing into the living room naked.

  “Go put some clothes on, for Christ’s sake!” shouted Ricky. “We have company!”

  “Oh, pish posh! If they don’t like the way I dress, they can leave,” she said, walking right up to Danielle and John. “Hi, my name’s Robin, and you would be?” She was pasty white, her eyes runny red. She was skinny as a rail with unkempt, platinum-blond hair and an unpleasant odor. She held out her hand with a smile on her face.

  “Ah, I’m Ricky’s sister, Danielle.” Danielle looked uncomfortable about the handshake, but went through with it. “And this is our friend, John.” She stepped back quickly, leaving John in the forefront.

  “John?” the woman said, stepping back a little. “Yes, you’re a nice-looking man. You’d do in a pinch.” Then suddenly she shouted, excited, “Hey, wacko juice run! I’m ‘flyin’ and I’m ‘buyin!’”

  She turned and stumbled over to a table by the door, snatching up her car keys. “We’re outta here!” she exclaimed, headed toward the door.

  Danielle looked at her brother.

  “Goddamn it, put some clothes on, I’m not going through that again,” Ricky said, hustling her out of the living room.

  “This ought to be good,” Danielle whispered to John. “If you’re any kind of writer, this should be some book.”

  “I doubt if anyone is going to believe all this,” he said.

  *

  “She’s looking for a dress,” Ricky said, shaking his head, “but I can’t get her to put any underpants on.”

  “Well, that’s no big deal,” said Danielle.

  Ricky looked concerned. “Oh, yeah,” he stated, “you don’t know.”

  *

  Out in the garage was a lovely 1950s Rolls Royce Rubyat, an extremely rare car.

  “What a car!” exclaimed Danielle.

  “It was her dad’s. She calls it Ruby,” said Ricky. “I guess that’s where all the craziness got started. She was a real daddy’s girl, and when he died a few years ago, she just fell apart. According to her family, she was quite the debutante. She was an item in Hollywood and ran with the “in” crowd. Supposedly, she was engaged to some famous actor.”

  “What happened to the wall?” Danielle asked. There was a giant hole in the wall about the same size as the front of the car. Through the hole she could see a big, beautiful, lacy bed on expensive, white, shag carpeting.

  Ricky shrugged. “Had a little accident. I’ve got someone coming on Monday to fix it.”

  “Oh, boy, what did the landlord say?” asked Danielle.

  “Oh, they don’t know. But it’ll be all fixed before they find out anyway.”

  Wacko Woman, in a flowered, knee-length dress, poked her head through the hole. “Are we all good to go?” she shouted, gleefully stepping into the garage.

  *

  She assigned seats, opening each door to make sure that everyone sat in their proper position. When everyone was seated, she got in, started the powerful engine and sat back with a smile.

  “Are we all ready?” she asked again, pulling the gear lever down. “We’re off.”

  Ricky yelled, “Wait!” trying to reach for the shift lever.

  Wacko Woman mashed the throttle before Ricky could do anything, and the big car jumped backwards, smashing into the garage door, which was still down. There was a horrible crashing sound as the big car completely ripped the garage door off its mounts, then splintering sounds and a slight bump when the car backed out over the door.

  “Ooops! What was that?” said Wacko Woman. She accelerated backwards down the driveway, cramping the wheel when she reached the street. The tires squawked. She slammed the gear lever down into forward without stopping. The car groaned with displeasure as she slammed the throttle down again. With a screech of the tires, they careened down the street.

  Wacko Woman shouted back to her passengers, “Wacko juice runs are a blast!”

  “Ricky, you really shouldn’t let her drive!” exclaimed Danielle from the back seat, sounding frightened.

  “Oh, pish posh!” yelled Wacko Woman. “I just got Ruby out of the shop this morning, and we need to spend some time together.”

  *

  “Ooh, the cutie-pie is working,
” cooed Wacko Woman from the parking lot as they headed for the market. “He’s so in love with me. Of course, all the men are.”

  “Aren’t you afraid she’s going to get in trouble the way she drives?” Danielle asked Ricky, following her inside.

  Wacko Woman blew through the door and headed for the liquor section, leaving Ricky, Danielle, and John standing near the checkout aisle.

  “Getting in trouble doesn’t bother her,” Ricky replied.

  “Yeah, but if the cops get her for driving drunk, she’ll really be in a world of hurt.”

  “She’s been in jail a number of times already. They know her well,” Ricky replied, chuckling.

  “She doesn’t care about getting thrown in jail?”

  Ricky started laughing. “Oh, they don’t keep her very long because she’s been eighty-sixed.” Ricky was still laughing. “She shows them her snatch on the surveillance cameras—causes quite a stir. She’s been eighty-sixed from every bar in town too,” he said over his shoulder, walking away.

  *

  “Hi there, cutie pie,” Wacko told the clerk, coming up to the checkout with four half-gallons of vodka. She had one in each hand and one tucked under each arm. “Want to go to my party?”

  The good-looking young clerk said nothing and quickly scanned the vodka.

  “My Ricky is such a naughty boy.”

  The clerk continued to ignore her.

  “Want to see why he’s so naughty?” Wacko giggled and pulled her dress up with both hands.

  “Ahhh!” he yelled, dropping the bottle he was pulling through the scanner.

  Wacko stood with her dress up over her hips, looking down at herself.

  “Ricky likes me to be smooth down there, so he shaved me,” she said loudly. “See?” she continued, lifting one of her legs, putting her knee on the edge of the counter. “I’ll bet’cha you’ve never seen anything like this!”

  The clerk gulped in a state of shock. “Forty-eight sixty-five.”

  “Goddamn it!” said Ricky. He walked up eating a big sandwich—lettuce, cheese, and meat were spilling out every side. He pulled Wacko’s dress down. “You’re going to make him go blind.”

  Ricky turned to the clerk. “Sorry about that,” he said with his mouth full.

  “Sir, is that one of our deli sandwiches?” asked the clerk, still shaken.

  “No, I made it myself,” Ricky said, sticking the sandwich out for the clerk to inspect.

  “But, I don’t know how to ring that up,” said the clerk.

  “That’s the whole point,” stated Ricky, throwing money down on the counter. He grabbed the liquor, handed it to John, and pulled Wacko by the arm.