Day 8

“Damn, damn, damn!” I guess I spouted a bit too loudly not to be heard by Lee’s ‘backup’ team yesterday afternoon, which had just trooped in with Edith after spending a half hour tossing snowballs at each other and making snowmen. While it was still snowing in Boston, the temperature wasn’t as bitingly cold as it had been earlier in the week.

“Anything wrong, Harry?” Edith asked, discarding her jacket and brushing off the snowflakes, as she entered the modest study, just across from the entryway,  a nice roaring fire in the fireplace.  

“Er, nothing, sweetie,” I tried to smile.

“I thought you said you were going to try to relax a little today. The jewelry theft’s not all that important, really, is it? I know it’s a mystery and that you and Lee think there’s something more to it,  but it’s not the end of the world for us. ”

“Of course it’s not, just, well, never mind. Run along and see if Mrs. C. needs anything. It can’t be easy for her using a vintage kitchen. (Our houseguest was baking cookies.)

“Or using 1890’s plumbing,” Edith laughed.

I just couldn’t bring myself to laugh with her.

“Harry,” Edith’s voice wavered and she sat down on the footstool in front of me, taking my hands in hers, “what’s really going on? Don’t you think I  know that something’s got you and Lee all  hot and bothered. Something that’s not just the jewel theft? Even Lee seemed...well, a bit more distracted than usual this morning. Why did ‘Miguel’ need to go work at the police station, anyway?”

“Yeah, Admiral, ” Sharkey asked from the study’s doorway, having dutifully eavesdropped, and entered followed by Ski, Pat, and Riley. “We’d like to know about that too,” he continued, “there some kind of police cover up he’s investigating?”

“Oh, there’s a cover-up all right,”  I said bitterly. “I didn’t want to get you involved in this Edith, and certainly not Mrs. Crane. In  fact, all of us need to make sure that she doesn’t find out about this, but...there’s been a threat.” I rose and retrieved the scanned copy of the document from my portfolio, “a death threat.”

“Ohmygod, Harry,” Edith paled as the men muttered their own epithets.

“Not against me,” I paused, “against Lee.”

As they gasped in horror, I handed the offending copy to Sharkey and the men crowded around him to see.

That they were more concerned about the threat against Lee than me wasn’t upsetting. I was used to their loyalty and fondness toward him which bordered on worship.

I was very scared myself about this threat against my son. 

“There’s more,” I said as I wearily sat back down. “After I gave the Chief of Police the original letter and was leaving, I happened to glimpse him tear it up and throw it away, and after he’d told me they’d get right on it. Whatever the connection to the theft, and there may not even be one, he’s certainly in on this death threat I some way and....”

There was the sound of a tray crashing to the floor from the doorway, as cookies crumbled and scattered, and Mrs. Crane, ashen, leaned against the frame for support.

“Lee...Lee  had me take him there? Right into the lion’s den? I know he was suspicious about the police deptarment’s lack of evidence for the theft, but...but someone wants to kill him? And it might even be Chief O’ Malley?”

Immediately   I rose and ushered her to my own chair in the small room (It had been the butler’s pantry in my grandfather’s day, my father’s den in his).

“I didn’t say that,” I knelt beside her. “But I’m sure O’Malley  knows something, or is protecting someone or several from being found out. By the time I saw what I saw what he did, it  was too late for me to warn Lee. You son had, however given me  a bug to place on the chief’s desk.”  I removed the earwig, “but it doesn’t appear to be working. I’ve tried for hours to listen for anything. If I didn’t know any better I’d say it was being jammed.”

“We don’t know it wasn’t,” Sharkey pursed his lips.

“That  ‘O Shaunessy guy!” Pat  snapped his fingers. “I bet this threat’s from him! He hates Miguel, so he’s out for the Skipper’s blood too!”

Mrs. Crane moaned.

“Sorry Mrs. C., figure of speech. I’m sure the Skip’s okay...”

“Yeah, he’s a pro at this kind of thing,” Ski said, “he knows how to protect himself. “

I couldn’t help noticing Kowalski crossing his fingers behind his back.

Just then the gate phone rang, which surprised us all  as I’d disabled it since ‘Lee Crane’s’ arrival  to avoid the hounding press.

“It’s Jackson,” Lee’s long- time friend and fellow spook buddy said. “Ah c’mon. I’m freezing out here. Lee sent for me. Said you might need a little help with, er, ‘things’.”

I punched the over- ride button and in minutes, Cmdr. Jackson, in full uniform, and winter service coat,  had entered the grounds through the pedestrian gate that was attached to the auto gate, and trudging up the snow covered driveway.

While Edith was trying to calm Mrs. Crane down in the family room, we filled Jackson in on everything we knew, but he didn’t reveal what Lee had told him, or had planned with him. He was very concerned that the earwig didn’t work and wanted to head over to the station himself in an attempt to find out why, but  Edith’s yell brought us all running toward  the family room and the  TV.

She and Mrs. Cane were holding hands on the sofa, barely daring to breathe as the newscast showed the Police Station, swarming with swat teams and flashing lights while blocking the public and press from getting any closer. Civilian employees were scattered about crying as detectives took statements.

“Only one gunshot was heard,” the reporter was saying, “and the building was quickly evacuated, though several police officers are still inside.”

Suddenly the doors opened, the swat team ready to fire, when Chief O’ Malley waved, (it was odd that he was wearing rubber gloves) then began to dab some reddish ooze from his shirt sleeve,. “There’s no problem here, folks,” he shouted, “I’m afraid it’s all been a misunderstanding. In fact, the only casualty from the gunshot was a spider. A great big fuzzy spider. This goo isn’t my blood. It’s his. Or hers, whatever the case may be.

“One second everything was fine, the next, I’d only turned for a second, to retrieve a case from the file cabinet, when one of our secretaries screamed, pointing to the beast, which was apparently interested in the sandwich I’d left on my desk. Well, there was a lot of screeching and running about as it was a really scary looking arachnid. I wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t a tarantula, I know what they look like and they’re relatively harmless, but this thing, well, when nature almost shouts ‘stay away’ with  neon reds and yellows, and the thing’s big and fuzzy, well, sometimes those kinds of creatures can have deadly poisonous venom .

“I yelled for somebody to call animal control, ah good I see they’re here now, yes go on in. Now, where was I? Oh yes, when Miguel Crane, who’s with us today as a volunteer, was emptying the trash in the area at the time, well, he took one look, grabbed my gun right out of my holster and shot the damn thing. Not too much left of it. Or my desk,” he laughed again. “But I’m sure not too many files were damaged, much anyway. I won’t know for sure until I can get the drawers unlocked. They’re a bit bent.

“Miguel’s still in there cleaning up the mess.  I’m not sure if there’s enough goo left to identify the species of spider, or how the hell it got into the place without being seen,  but I’m sure Animal Control will do their best . Ah, there Miguel  is now...come here my boy,” he motioned to Miguel with one of the Animal Control officers. “Come down and say hello to the press.”

Miguel, garbed himself in rubber gloves,  looked confused at the invitation.

“C’mon Lad,”  O’ Malley tried again and motioned he join him, “down here.”

“Si senor,” Miguel handed a plastic baggie full of multi colored ooze and fuzzy blown off legs to the officer beside him.

“Had no idea you were skilled as a sharpshooter,” O’ Malley patted the gun which had apparently been returned to him after the shootout.

Miguel didn’t understand.

“Never mind, I’m sure Mrs. Crane will explain it to you later. Someone see to it that she knows what happened,” he told one of the detectives.

“Me hermano  madre?” Lee began to look around for her.

“No, son, she’s not here,” O’ Malley patted his arm. “Why don’t you go back on in. Perhaps have a cup of coffee. You deserve it.”

“Café?  Si!” Miguel nodded his head gleefully, endearing himself to the crowd once again.

“Oh good grief,” O’ Shaunessy said from the sidelines and grabbed Miguel’s arm. Miguel tried (or at least pretended to try) to get away, but couldn’t or wouldn’t. “They might like you, you dweeb,” O’ Shaunnessy continued, loudly, “ but I don’t. And a lot of other people don’t either. And you can tell your brother he’d better go back to his damn submarine and take you with him if he doesn’t want anything really bad to happen to either of you.”

“No comprendo,” Miguel whimpered, “No comprendo!  Me lastimas! Me lastimas!”

“Stop it!” One of the crowd yelled, “he says you’re hurting him!”

“Let him go,” O’ Malley demanded, aiming his gun, “or I’ll arrest you for assault.”

“I ain’t done nothing to him!” O’ Shaunessy spat, letting go of Miguel’s arm.

Miguel made a show of rubbing it, looking at O’ Shaunessy with confusion and sadness. But not fear. I wondered if anyone else noticed. But then, he didn’t understand much English did he.

“No comprendo,” Miguel was muttering, “No comprendo... me bueno.”

“Get Mr. O’ Shaunessy off of police property,” O’ Malley ordered.

The crowd applauded as the man in question  huffed off, the cops en mass behind him.

 Except for one or two of the crowd that followed him to his car, folks were on Miguel’s side.

“Come along Miguel,” the Chief of Police patted Miguel’s shoulder and led him back into the building, turning once. “Ladies and  gentlemen of the press, please, no interviews. I think we’ve had enough excitement for today.”

“And now to other news...” the reporter said and we were greeting to a weather forcast.

“I got the tag numbers,” Sharkey said. “Do we go after the creep, Admiral?”

“No,” Jackson said before I could answer. “Not yet. Thank God things are going according to plan.”

I think we all looked at him with our mouths open.

“I’ve had enough of this!” Mrs. Crane stood up and spouted. “ What the devil are you and Lee up to, Joe? And you too, Admiral!”

All I could do was shrug my shoulders, just as confused as she and everyone else. Well, maybe not quite as confused, but confused nonetheless.

The phone rang and Edith was going to let it go to the answering machine when Joe said, “It’ll be for Mrs. Crane.”

“How the hell do you....”Edith began but Mrs. Crane took the receiver.

“Hello? Yes, this is she. I see. Is Miguel all right? Just confused? What happened? Oh... yes, I see...yes...very well. I think Admiral Nelson was planning to pick him up...”

Joe pointed to himself repeatedly, and mouthed ‘now’.

“But one of  Lee’s friends is already on the way. Yes. Thank you,” she hung up.

“I think we need to have a little talk first, Commander,” I told Jackson.

“Later. Time for the active Navy to strut it’s stuff,” he headed for the phone and called a cab.  In about 10 minutes he’d weighed anchor and was on his way.

That was several hours ago. There’s been no new news from in front of the police station, except recaps. There’s been no word of any accident involving a cab. There’s no blizzard, and damn it, there’s just no word. What the hell is taking so long?

“Harry?” Edith took my arm, “you’ll wear the rug out from all that pacing. You missed supper.”

“Did anyone else eat?”

“No,” she sighed. “Mrs. Cane’s livid.”

“Understandable. So am I, that  O’ Malley playacting like that. Miguel’s protector. Bah!”

Just then we heard the 8 little dings from the code Lee and I had arranged to allow either one of us to open and close the pedestrian gate without the master control.

We all headed to the big window and door, and watched as the cab drove away from the gate, and Lee and Jackson trudging through the snow toward the house. And laughing. Suddenly  Lee picked  up a wad of snow and threatened his friend with it.

Jackson, in turn, did the same thing. Soon they were in full attack mode, until Lee saw me open the door, everyone waiting. He suddenly seemed embarrassed. Or scared. Of me, never. Of his mother, right beside me, her hands on her hips, well, that was another matter.

As soon as they arrived at the entrance, Lee embraced her and told her he was sorry if he’d made her worry. That the newscast had made us all worry. Then he asked for a cookie.(Mrs. Crane told him that thanks to his little adventure, she’d dropped them on the floor and wasn’t about to make any more, thank you very much.)

But she quickly succumbed to his woeful look, and with Edith went ahead and baked cookies anyway- Oatmeal Raisin-his favorite. The boys refused to talk shop and told us that all would be revealed tomorrow, which is actually today.

Lee’s crew had to be forced to return to their hotel rooms. (A strategic necessity, Lee told them), but insisted (after they’d left to avoid hurting their feelings), that Joe stay.

I had hoped Lee would have at least told me, and frankly I was a little hurt that he didn’t.

Lee did ask me, however, to call Miss Bates tomorrow and tell her that Miguel was calling in sick.

I know I am. Of this whole damn mess!

Well, to bring things up to date, I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, when I noticed something in Lee’s orange jumpsuit’s unzipped pocket,  (The jumpsuit was hanging on the bathroom door’s hook and in no condition for any work day.)

I couldn’t resist seeing what it was, and pulled it out, screaming as a big neon fuzzy spider fell from my hand. A towel that had apparently dropped on the floor kept the door from slamming shut as I’d raced out.

“Ohmygod!” Edith screamed to when she reached me and saw the monster in the bathroom.

Mrs. Crane almost fainted.

Lee and Joe pounded the floor as they raced to my rescue, suddenly stopping at the sight of the monster spider.

“Oh,” Lee said quietly as we all turned to look at him.

Opening the door wider and entering the bathroom, he bent down to pick  arachnid up, moved it in his hand, then turned it upside down to reveal a small slit from which he pulled out a mini bag of multi  colored ooze and gave Edith, his mother, and I  a sheepish grin.

“Well, I had to have a backup if I couldn’t get the desk drawers open,  didn’t I?”

“But they were still locked,” Edith said, “weren’t they?”

“There’s locked and there’s locked,” Lee grinned. “Not that we’ll find anything interesting in O’ Malley’s private files. But we might. I’m just glad that distraction gave me enough time to use the mini camera on them and O' Malley had to go calm down the citizenry which left me to it. Joe and I have already begun to through the pictures,” he turned to go back to their room.

“Before you take one more step mister,” I said and jabbed my finger against his chest, “we’re going to have a little talk. Just you and I. Not tomorrow, not when you feel like it, but now. March!” I pointed downstairs.

I wasn’t sure he was following me as I headed downstairs. After all he’s my business partner now, and I’m not his boss anymore. So my outburst wasn’t that of a commanding officer. Only an irate father who’d been worried to death about him.

Finally I heard his footfalls behind me. I motioned to the study and closed the door behind us.

I don’t know how long we talked. All I know is that the morning sunshine was in my face, startling me awake as Lee snored in the easy chair. The clock chimed 9.

9 am? Damn!

I raced to the phone in the family room and called the museum’s HR department.

“Er, this is Admiral Nelson. Miguel Crane has to call in sick today. What is it? Well, um, we’re not sure. He’s been upchucking his guts out...I’m not feeling too well myself...might be contagious...Yes, I’ll tell him you all hope he’ll feel better soon. Yes. I’ll be in touch if he gets worse. Good bye.”

“Remind me to do it myself next time,” Lee yawned as he took a seat on the sofa. He was holding something. Something I’d been writing in. Something I’m writing in now.

“I thought you were done with the journal. I can’t believe you’ve been writing about this...situation.”

“It’s my journal and I’ll set pen to it whenever I like. And it’s not for anyone’s eyes but mine,” I stretched my hand out for it.

“Sorry. About yesterday...”

“It’s all right, Lad. I realize that you have to do what you have to do. As always. But I can’t help worrying.”

The sound of Edith and Joe playing outside in the snow startled both of us.

“I don’t suppose,” Lee grinned, “that you be a willing partner in a snowball fight.”

“You’re sick today. What if someone drives by and sees you.”

“They’ll only see Lee Crane, not Miguel, poor boy. Sick as a dog. Hope it’s not contagious.”

In minutes, we’d both dressed and were happily tossing snowballs at Edith and Joe, while Mrs. Crane joined us and built a snowman, even ruffling Lee’s hair now and then. So I guessed that she’d either forgiven him or had accepted that Lee Crane just can’t help being Lee Crane.

No doubt the crew would be arriving soon to badger their Captain about what happened at the police station, the latest status of the jewel theft, and the death threat against him.

For now, lunch is ready, and I’ll  have to let today’s entry wait, maybe for tomorrow.

At least, I can comfort myself with the fact that at least Miguel, and Lee Crane will be out of trouble today.