A Regrettable Menace , livre ebook

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126 pages

English

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Description

Who wants Archie Symes Dead?

The town of Limekiln is in a panicky crisis. Hard enough to adjust to new residents in Sawtooth Farms, but the economy tanks in 2009, and residents abandon their new homes. The mayor wants friendly faces all around. A most difficult thing to do since students call a new hire at the high school “Symes the Slime.” He has an agenda to belittle women, particularly Alice Tricklebank, who nears retirement. Nobody is prepared for Symes’s schemes and abusive insinuations. Even Alice’s dog is threatened with death. Baer Tricklebank promises not to let that happen.

“I never thought poisonous change could break the good people of Limekiln into making regrettable decisions. But we swat mosquitos, don’t we?” Alice Tricklebank

Sujets

Women Sleuths

Amateur Sleuth

Cozy

General officer

Detective

Mystery

General

Fiction

Informations

Publié par	Outskirts Press
Date de parution	08 août 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781977267511
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

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This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
A Regrettable Menace Alice’s Story All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2023 Georgann Prochaska v3.0
Cover Photo © 2023 www.gettyimages.com . All rights reserved - used with permission.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023911649
Outskirts Press and the "OP" logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Table of Contents
List of Characters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Acknowledgments
Other Writings by Georgann Prochaska
List of Characters
Alice and Baer Tricklebank
Archie Symes, Sunita, Tater
Lena Vincenti and daughter Cheryl
Lieutenant Jonah Gaither
Doyle Kooser, Diana Kooser,
Lexi Patrick
Officer Bobby Unzicker
Nautica Barlow
Mercedes McKay
Ivan and Dagmar Plank
Harmon, custodian
Posey Turnmire, teacher
Ozzie, a student
Ruthie, bus driver
Lilah, cafeteria worker
Danny Ruggerio, firefighter
Kitty and Emmylou Broadaxe
Gilly Chapel, lawyer
Flossy Grueber and her housekeeper Crystal Butterman
Chapter 1
April 2009
"Did you hear that?" I asked.
From a dead sleep, our tri-colored Greater Swiss Mountain dog was on his feet, a low growl in his throat.
"Sounded almost like hail," said my husband, Baer. His forehead puzzled. "There it is again. News didn’t predict rain."
Jake growled as he lowered his head and stalked the window. Standing on his hind legs, he nosed the curtains aside to peer out. We turned off the ten o’clock television news and followed our dog to investigate the dark. To me the sound was like small pebbles lightly hitting the siding of our house, but even with the glow of the back porch light, all we saw at the side of the house was our gravel driveway and our quiet street under a clear navy nighttime sky with stars. The coolness of an April spring carried hope. Nothing could really be wrong.
Our watchdog, however, cut away from the window and ran to the back door. In his excitement, his one-hundred-pound, muscular body collided with kitchen chairs, causing them to skitter across the floor before tipping over. I grabbed Jake’s collar and felt him hellbent on storming outside. The sound of more pebbles hitting our house followed seconds later.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat , two more tat-tats coming from below the kitchen window. Jake leaned on the back door with his big paws and barked his fury before wrenching free of my grip and bounding for our living room. He barked at another window again. He shook his frustration and sent fluffs of fur into the air. We were in shedding season, and Jake needed a good combing.
"Jake, it’s okay. Quiet boy." I tried to calm him by patting his side. No luck. Jake makes his own decisions.
The white of Jake’s eyes seemed larger as he followed the outdoor sounds. His nails added stripes into the painted kitchen floor as he shot past me. His tail whacked a table that teetered, sending a newly purchased vase of flowers crashing to the floor. Before I could grab him, he was off bellowing at the front door again.
As the pack leader, Baer commanded Jake to stop and nabbed him while I cleaned up the shattered glass. Our dog was usually good-natured, but I wouldn’t call him obedient. Only the pack leader could brush Jake’s teeth.
Jake stopped, cocked his head, and listened. More rat-a-tat-tat from the front porch. A howl vibrated Jake’s body. He had a grizzly bear look about him.
"I’m going outside," said Baer. His face reddened with annoyance. "This is nonsense."
I hoped it was nothing. Baer was a big guy, and as an iron gate designer, he played with fire all day and bent and liquefied metal. In the dark, he can look like trouble even more so than our Swissy. But I could count on his reserve. We weren’t sure what caused the disturbance. Mischief?
In case I needed to take a picture, I grabbed my phone and followed both of them to the front door. Jake’s annoyance with new sounds continued to set him on a run back-and-forth inside, punctuated by his nose trying to push past me and get outside to Baer. He wanted out to join Baer and find the cause of the noise. I kept him inside and worked on controlling my own breathing. My knees started that nervous twitchy thing that made me feel wobbly.
"Hey, kid. You lost?" called Baer from our driveway. He didn’t sound angry, but his tone carried a deep authority. Part of me relaxed. My fingers scratched Jake’s head. He looked up at me. The tan dots above his eyes pleaded with me to open the door.
I spotted a kid pressed into the shadow of one of our bushes. Maybe he was five years old. When Baer moved closer to him, the child scooted past Baer and ran into a pool of light from our streetlights.
"Hey, you need help?" called Baer.
It was close to ten-thirty. The late news was over. What was a little kid doing outside our house by himself at this time of night?
I grabbed my phone and started to call 911, but a man emerged from the dark cover of our next-door neighbor’s front yard. It took me several seconds to recognize him.
"Tater, show him what you think of him," said the man.
Tater stopped, turned, and held up both hands, showing Baer two middle fingers. He then ran gleefully to the man, Archie Symes, the athletic director of Limekiln High School. My heart pounded with rage.
Many students called him Symes the Slime, but, of course, never within ear shot.
He’s short, a little over five feet. I could see his jaw work at chewing gum as if he tortured it. Sweat on his forehead glistened in the moonlight.
Female students warned each other not to attract his attention or be alone with him. Teachers grumbled at the injustice of his pointed chiding of students who were hesitant, awkward, or clumsy. He always sought ways to mention an imperfection and diminish confidence. And then there was his touching. Girls ducked and twisted away as his hands lingered or wandered. School protocol demanded that concerns about behavior move up the chain of command: disciplinarian, principal, superintendent. I had spent the past several months reporting what I saw and what students told me. So had others. All to no avail. The new superintendent, Doyle Kooser, never reprimanded Symes’s behavior. Up until now, Symes used my age old, height six feet, weight ample, and inabilities a plain woman, as insults spoken in front of me to students. When the system didn’t shut down his bad behavior, I resorted to scolding him myself. We had a lovely relationship.
Now, here he was at my home to create some misery.
"You got a great kid there," said Baer with his booming voice filled with sarcasm.
"Taking my son for a ride so he can sleep tonight," said Symes. "Wanted to check if the stories we heard about your dog are true. Your dog sounds like a big threat to the community. I’m surprised the police don’t visit you regularly. You know they put down dogs that terrorize people."
No one who knew Jake would think he posed a danger. Yes, he was large and consumed a lot of space. Yes, he was bored easily, but he still had his playful, puppy bounce. Neighbors and friends smiled at his antics.
Symes lived nowhere near our street. His family had a big house in the new development of Sawtooth Farms. My thoughts hopscotched directly to he’s been to our house when we weren’t home. This trip with his son was planned.
"Jake was sleeping until your son threw stones," said Baer.
Symes laughed, called Tater, and walked to his car parked down the street. Tater skipped, apparently thrilled with his father’s approval.
When Baer came back into the house, he said, "Why do I have the feeling he’ll be back?"
"Because he’s had to be here before to plan what damage he can do," I said, feeling a chill. "It’s what he’s tried all year to do to other teachers and students. We’re his new target through Jake."
Chapter 2
"He’s littler than I thought," said Baer. "What is he five-one?"
"Give or take."
Wednesday morning, Baer ground coffee beans for our morning coffee. The shrill whirl of the grinder reminded me of the pulsating pitch of a siren. Last night I listened for Symes’s return. Would he sneak back and damage our house with paint? Would he drop a match? Every little sound in the night startled me.
All night I had worked at keeping still to keep from waking Jake or Baer, but once I moved onto my left, I saw that Baer’s eyes were wide open.
"Try to go back to sleep," I whispered.
"Can’t."
Jake rose from the bottom of the bed and crept closer to us as