There Was an Old Woman

Chapter Twenty-two


Mina had just started to peer into Frank Cutler’s house when a light in the darkened front hall started flashing and a blaring Klaxon nearly blew her off the steps. She fought her first impulse, which was to scramble off the porch and race home. But scrambling and racing had long ago dropped out of her repertoire, and besides, it was too late for any of that. Two neighbors had come out and were looking on, and a dark car with a bubble light going in its windshield was already tearing up the street toward her.

She covered her ears to muffle the blaring alarm and waited. The sedan pulled over in front of the house. A man in a dark uniform got out. Well over six feet tall and whippet slender, his skin a rich reddish-brown, he reached back through his car window for a cap and set it on his head.

“Ma’am,” he said, touching the visor of his cap. Above it was stuck a silver badge.

That’s when Mina realized he was eyeing her less than respectfully. Not disrespectfully, really. More like he was looking at a suspicious package. His gaze lingered on her feet, those oversize rubber boots coated in mud.

Mina straightened and cleared her throat. Before she could explain what her neighbor had been up to, and how this time she had the evidence to prove it, he tilted his head and tsk-tsked. “We have to stop meeting like this, Miss Mina.”

Miss Mina? She wasn’t about to play Driving Miss damned Daisy to his Uncle Tom. “Excuse me, but do I know you?”

“Breaking in. Again?” He reached for her arm.

Mina didn’t like that. Not one little bit. She backed away. “Don’t you lay a hand on me. I was not trying to break in. That man . . . he was—” She held up the ball and realized she had an opera-length coating of mud up her arm. She switched hands and held out the ball. “I found this in the salt marsh. It’s a protected area, isn’t it?”

But the officer was looking past her. She turned to follow his gaze. Racing—much too fast, if you asked her—up the street toward them was a red sports car like the one that belonged to Frank Cutler. As it got closer, she could see the man himself, sitting right there at the wheel.

Another car pulled to a stop behind him. Brian’s. She might not have recognized the gray car as a Mercedes, but the ’60s peace sign in the front grill had always struck her as a hilarious irony.

“You’d better come with me.” The officer grabbed for her arm again.

“I’ll do no such thing.” She wrenched away.

Frank Cutler got out and charged over to the house and up onto the porch. “What in the hell is going on?” he demanded.

Brian got out, too, and stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at her from beneath the red brim of a blue baseball cap. “What on earth is she up to now?” He put his hands on his hips, like he was the grown-up in the room.

“Everything’s under control,” the officer said. “Caught her trying to break in—”

“Again? You stay off my property,” Frank Cutler said, taking a menacing step toward Mina. They were like cartoon characters, all of them, and Mina almost expected a blast of steam to erupt from the top of Frank Cutler’s head.

“Well?” the officer said to Mina.

“I . . . He . . . It’s not . . .” Mina took a deep breath and tried to gather herself. “I was not trying to break in.”

“So you’re not responsible for setting off my alarm?” Frank Cutler said.

“I am. I guess. But it wasn’t my fault. I—”

“For the third time, it’s not your fault?”

Third time? What on God’s green earth was he talking about?

“You’ve been warned and warned again,” the officer said. He reached into his pocket and removed a pair of handcuffs.

That frightened her. “Put those fool things away. Brian? For heaven’s sake, say something.”

But Brian stood there staring at the ground like he was examining the roots his feet had grown. Frank Cutler’s jaw was clamped in a grim, satisfied smile. And the man in uniform advanced. When he grabbed her arm, Mina’s cane went flying.

Mina couldn’t think what else to do, so she screamed.