And so it was that the episode with the Roomba ended. The machine might have come from the future to kill the mother of the future leader of the dust bunnies, but it was no match for four determined and highly motivated felines.
And may I just add: good riddance!
Chapter 23
Ted was still thinking hard about ways and means of reconciling his neighbor when he looked up and saw that Kurt Mayfield had chosen that exact moment to walk his dog, too.
Kurt was a retired music teacher and lived next door to Odelia, Tex Poole’s daughter. He was walking his Yorkshire Terrier Fifi and didn’t look all that happy to see Ted. Kurt was one of those people who liked to keep himself to himself and didn’t enjoy those conversations between dog walkers most dog owners love so much, and view as a welcome opportunity to socialize.
“Hey there Kurt,” said Ted.
“Mh,” said Kurt as Fifi lifted her hind leg for a tinkle against a deserving tree.
“Have you heard about the arrests of those art thieves?” he asked, never lacking for something to talk about, contrary to Kurt.
“Art thieves?” asked Kurt, looking up. “What art thieves?”
“The fellas that robbed Mort Hodge—the Mort’s Molly guy? They caught them after they robbed Mayor Butterwick this afternoon. Got away with the town’s collection of gold coins.”
“The Duke of Middleforth coins?”
“Yup, and they pulled off a couple of other robberies, too. Ida Baumgartner was one of their victims. Claims they lifted a genuine Picasso off her.”
Kurt made a scoffing noise, which sounded as if a seal was spitting out a wad of phlegm.“Picasso my ass. If Ida owned a real Picasso my name is Tom Brady.”
Ted looked at him in confusion.“I thought your name was Kurt?”
“My name is Kurt,” grunted Kurt. He glanced around for a moment, then lowered his voice. “The trick is never to let them know that you’re in possession of something of value. That way you can never be robbed. Trouble is people go around bragging about owning Picassos. Naturally that’ll attract the criminal element.”
“So… do you own a Picasso?” asked Ted, who might not be the fastest mind in the Western hemisphere but could put two and two together just as well as the next man.
Kurt smiled and tapped his nose.“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, Ted.” And with a sour smile, he gave Fifi’s leash a goodish yank, causing the little Yorkie to yelp in surprise, then trip after her master.
Ted stared after Kurt for a moment, wondering if he did or did not own a Picasso, then shrugged and turned his mind to the problem that had been vexing him all along: how to be a better neighbor to Tex, and remove that touch of frostiness that had existed between them. And it was with a frown on his brow that he proceeded to walk Rufus, a happy and fluffy big sheepdog, who gamboled along and deposited little puddles of pee at regular intervals, and even one little pile of doo-doo, too. For that’s what dogs do.
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Jerry and Johnny were listening intently to the words of their spiritual advisers who’d been so gracious to join them in their prison cell. Elders Thaddeus and Marcus were responsible for their local Kingdom Hall and had heeded Jerry’s call of distress with the kind of alacrity one likes to see in one’s church leaders.
In fact it had been Chief Alec who’d placed the call, at Jerry’s instigation. The chief of police had been pleasantly surprised that these two convicts, instead of asking for a lawyer, had asked for a priest instead. He probably hoped they were in need of their Last Rites. With prisons as overpopulated as they were, this must have appealed to the cop.
And it was with bowed head that the two career criminals listened as Elders Thaddeus and Marcus read from the scripture and words like‘final revelation’ and ‘repent, ye sinner’ and ‘Jesus saves’ flew through the small prison cell fast and furious.
Jerry had specifically asked for Thaddeus and Marcus, not because of their religious fervor but more for their physical appearance. Thaddeus was about the same size as Johnny, and Marcus could have been Jerry’s spitting image. Both elders had come dressed in their usual garb: nice new suits with clean white shirts and matching ties.
And it was after the third hallelujah that Jerry felt the time had come to thank the two elders for their services, and proceeded to knock them both out with a well-aimed tap to the noggin with the sturdy Bibles they’d brought for the duo’s edification.
“I don’t think you should have done that, Jer,” said Johnny. “God doesn’t like it when you knock out his priests.”
“God doesn’t like it when his people are imprisoned for no good reason,” Jerry countered. “Now help me undress them, and be quick about it.”
Within moments, both men had been stripped of their outer garments and tucked onto the metal bunks and covered with state-issued threadbare brown blankets.
“How do I look?” asked Johnny as he showcased his snazzy new outfit.
“Perfect fit, just like I thought,” said Jerry, well pleased as he inspected himself.