In appreciation for caring for her home, she gave your agent a bottle of Cuban rum. I'm not sure what she gave young Doo for keeping her backyard secure. But I'm quite certain it wasn't a bottle of rum.
Neither your agent, nor Mrs. Wonders, drinks rum. I'll probably give the bottle to Oscar. He has a taste for such things.
I'm just relieved that Florence's house didn't burn down while she was away. That was enough of a gift by itself.
***
Sunday nights in the Sack are almost always very quiet, especially during the winter.
Most residents are at home on these evenings. People seem to shift their lives into a lower gear as the weekend draws to a close. Oscar compares it to the last few metres of a roller coaster ride.
"You go like stink for almost seven days and then you slam on the brakes and coast for the last few hours," he observed.
If you walked through the Sack on a Sunday evening, you could almost bask in the foggy glow of television screens emanating from residents' homes. Watching TV is what most people seem to do on Sunday nights.
Little Doug's house would probably stand out most. He likes to watch TV in complete darkness. From the street, it looks like he's operating a clandestine welding shop in his darkened living room.
Weed says Little Doug keeps the lights off because he's prone to falling asleep on the couch while watching television.
***
Last Sunday night began in this same unremarkable fashion.
Oscar was reclining on his couch as he enjoyed his new thirty-seven-inch LCD television. With his new digital package, he says he can watch four different episodes of The Simpsons on a single Sunday night. That's what he was doing when the shenanigans began.
Weed was lying on the couch in the rec room of Little Doug's house. He was listening to music on his MP3 player. Daisy and Baby Doug had left earlier in the day for a week long visit with her mother in the United States. Weed said it was the first time he had been alone on a Sunday night since Baby Doug was born.
Little Doug, of course, was upstairs in the darkened living room watching television. Weed reckoned that his de facto father-in-law had already fallen asleep. He says Little Doug rarely makes it past nine-thirty on most nights, before drifting off to the Land of Nod.
Weed had just finished smoking a joint when the shenanigans began.
***
Your agent and Mrs. Wonders were relaxing in our front room. Mrs. Wonders was curled up in an armchair with a book. She had started reading it on the day before and had scarcely put it down since.
"That must be a good book," I said absently, at one point. I was sitting on the couch with my notebook, scribbling something for the blogging machine.
"It is," she replied, without looking up. When she finished the page, she added, "With those powers of observation, you should become a private detective."
"Maybe I will," I answered. Then I yawned and continued scribbling.
The television was on, but the sound was off. Music was playing on the stereo at a low volume. A muted hockey game was in progress on the television screen.
At the Wonders' house, we were reading, writing, watching and listening all at the same time. When the shenanigans began, we were multitasking.
***
Gordon and his wife were also watching television when the shenanigans started. I have no idea what they were watching.
For a change, Gordon wasn't standing at his front window watching for an outbreak of suburban mayhem. That's what he seems to do on most other nights.
On Sunday nights, Gordon is usually off duty.
***
Just after nine o'clock, Oscar looked up from his thirty-seven-inch LCD television and noticed something afoot in the Sack. There was a peeler car in front of Burning Manor. A second peeler car was parked in front of Little Doug's house.
Immediately, Oscar phoned Weed and asked about the second peeler car. Weed was completely unaware of its presence. He wasn't happy about it, either.
Weed says the worst thing that can happen in life is when the police park in front of your house, just after you've smoked a joint.
"It's a good buzz ruined," he told me later.
***
Every week, it seems, Weed comes up with a new example of the worst thing that can happen to someone. It will always be a scenario that has just occurred in his own life.
During the previous week, he said "getting a soaker" was the worst thing that can happen to a person. This is a Canadian colloquialism for getting water in one's shoe. He made the comment after walking through some slush and discovering a hole in his boot.
Several weeks earlier, biting one's own tongue held the mantle of Weed's worst-ever life situations. He bit his tongue while watching a tense moment in a televised hockey game.
But last Sunday, having a cannabis buzz while the peelers were parked in front of his house was the worst thing ever. Weed said he wasn't concerned about his own legal position at the time. After all, he pointed out, the peelers don't pay much attention to the citizen pot-smoker anymore.
But it was the mere presence of the peelers that ruined Weed's buzz. As it turned out, they were only parked in front of Little Doug's house as they awaited the outcome of the matters unfolding inside Burning Manor. Either way, Weed said he couldn't relax until the car left the curb in front of Little Doug's house.
"It was like peeing in a public urinal with a big line-up of people behind you," he said later.
***
The peeler car in front of Burning Manor was empty. Its occupants were obviously inside the house. The second car continued to idle in front of Little Doug's place. By this time, more than a few Sack residents were standing at their front windows.
Oscar, of course, had already called Weed and your agent. He phoned Gordon, as well. Gordon then called Big Doug to inform him about the matter. Apparently, Big Doug said he didn't give a monkey's arse about what was happening at Burning Manor. He said he had much more important matters to attend to.
He didn't say what those important matters might have been.
Both Ben and Norma were peering out from behind their front curtains. And Jeff Christ's cherubic face was looking about calmly from the basement's rec room window. I don't think anyone had called them about the peelers. I think they discovered the unfolding shenanigans on their own.
Elizabeth was reportedly holding a stern pose as she stood at her front window. Apparently, her hands were on her hips.
"That's definitely not a happy stance," Oscar said later.
***
After about ten minutes, the second peeler car quickly accelerated and then stopped behind the first car in front of Burning Manor. The two officers walked purposefully to the front door and entered without knocking.
Before long, four peelers made their exit from the house. Accompanying them was a familiar female figure clad in a pink sweatsuit. The woman was wearing a pair of long, black leather boots. The pant legs of the sweatsuit were tucked into the boots. Oddly, she was also wearing a white cowboy hat.
More notably, however, her wrists were in handcuffs.
Dora's time on the lam, it seemed, had come to a peaceful conclusion.
***
The process of taking Dora to the waiting peeler car seemed to be a very relaxed affair. Everyone, including Dora, appeared to be chatting amiably.
At one point, Dora seemed to be talking as the peelers listened intently. She must have reached the climax of her tale, because she suddenly cackled loudly. Two of the peelers erupted with uproarious laughter. The other pair was standing with their arms folded. They just smiled and started shaking their heads.
Dora didn't seem to be too upset by the matter, at all.
***
Just before Dora was placed in the peeler car, Dirk appeared on the front porch of Burning Manor. He was wearing a pair of flannel boxer shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He was also barefooted.
This was about the fourth time in succession that I've seen Dirk in these same boxer shorts. I mentioned this to Mrs. Wonders. She said she hoped that Dirk does his laundry on a frequent basis.
I said it was also possible that Dirk has more than one pair of the same boxer shorts.
"You really should become a private detective, you know," she said dryly.
"Maybe I will," I replied. Then I yawned and returned my gaze to the shenanigans at the front of Burning Manor.
***
Dirk called out something unintelligible to the peelers. One of them walked back to the front door and spoke with him for a moment. Dora didn't even look over at him. She was still having a good-natured conversation with her peeler pals.
Eventually, Dora was packaged into the car and it motored smoothly out of the Sack. The second car, its interior lights on, remained behind for about ten minutes. Finally, it drove from the Sack and into the foggy night.
***
Weed said he was unimpressed with Dora's strategy for remaining on the lam.
"She got off to a good start," he said thoughtfully. He referred to her dramatic absence from a sentencing hearing and how she initially disappeared without a trace. She even made a cameo appearance at Norma's Tuesday night bingo. Weed thought Dora was being quite creative, at first.
In recent weeks, of course, Dora had simply resumed her normal routine at Burning Manor. Weed said this was a very uninspiring strategy for staying on the lam.
"In the end," he added, "she just lacked imagination."
***
Gordon, on the other hand, was ecstatic about Dora's arrest. He said it was too bad that the peelers didn't take Dirk, too.
Privately, Oscar wondered whether Gordon had called the peelers himself to report Dora's presence in the Sack. He said it was the kind of thing Gordon would do in the name of Sack security.
Weed, however, dismissed Oscar's theory. He said Sunday nights are the best time for the peelers to "scoop up" people on the lam.
"Everybody's sitting around watching TV on Sunday night. The peelers just have to go to their houses and that's it," he said with authority.
"It's like shooting fish in a barrel."
***
On the following Monday morning, Sack residents once again shifted their lives into a higher gear.
With the work day looming, Mrs. Wonders and I were sitting in the car, waiting for the heater to do its job. Your agent had just finished scraping ice from the windows.
"You wouldn't have to do this in the morning, if you were a private detective," she suddenly remarked, looking up from the same book she had been devouring on Sunday night. "You could work from home."
"Maybe I will," I replied. I yawned and looked at my watch. It was just after seven o'clock.
I put the car in gear and ventured down the driveway. As I entered the street, I saw Dirk's car pulling into Burning Manor's driveway. Dirk had a passenger with him. The passenger was wearing a white cowboy hat.
***
I slowed the Wonders' car down as I passed Burning Manor. Dora was now standing beside the car and talking with great animation to Dirk. I could even hear her coarse laughter as we passed. Meanwhile, Dirk was trying to retrieve something from the glove compartment of the car.
Dora was still dressed in the same fashion as the previous night. This time, however, only one leg of her pink sweatsuit was tucked into her boots. This detail gave her a slightly crazed look. Mrs. Wonders said it would be more accurate to say Dora looked slightly more crazed than normal. She could be right about this.
As we passed by, Dora seemed to notice us. She gave us a broad smile and a friendly wave. Then she raised her arms in the air and gave out a great whoop.
I flashed her my trademark peace sign and we continued on our way.
***
4 comments:
Did you tell Mrs. W that a fair amount of detectiving involves sitting in cars watching houses, which is kind of hard to do from inside one's own house?
Of course, if you were a detective who only investigated sack shenanigans, you could do it from your living room, but somehow I don't think there's enough money in that line of work to sustain your house. So then you'd have to sell it, and then you'd have to go back to detecting in your car, which you would drive from your apartment on Pleasant Street to the sack in order to observe the shenanigns, so I withdraw the exception stated at the beginning of this paragraph.
yeharr
Out of curiosity--who did Oscar call first, Weed or you?
BP: My gumshoe aspirations have been dashed. I'm picturing myself in a rundown Pleasant Street apartment with nothing in my fridge but old take-out stuff. I'd be living on liquor and driving around in an rusted old heap. On occasion, I'd get beaten up by the bad guys.
But I would probably have a nice pin-striped suit and, of course, a fedora. . . .
Jessica: Oscar always calls me first. He called me from his cell phone once, while he was sitting on my front steps. . . .
Fantastic.
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