And by the time Marge closed the book, since the next day was a working day and she needed to get up early, she was already dreaming of a love so deep and so passionate that it consumed all.
Five minutes later she was fast asleep, spooning with her husband and dreaming of her own Sheikh, who may or may not have had a shock of white hair and the face of a certain small-town doctor with a weird penchant for garden gnomes.
So when in the middle of the night she was awakened by a strange sound, it took her a few moments to realize that the man standing in her bedroom, backlit by the full moon, wasn’t the Sheikh of her dreams, but a burglar! And then she was screaming bloody murder.
16
We’d just returned from cat choir when we heard a scream so loud it cut through us like a knife.
“That’s Marge!” said Harriet, alarmed. We were in the front yard when the scream rang out, which meant it must have been pretty loud, since Marge and Tex’s bedroom is at the back.
So we immediately ran like the wind through the narrow patch of green that runs along the house and soon found ourselves at the back, and made our way inside through the pet flap, then up the stairs. And as we did, we came upon a fascinating scene: Tex and Marge were both sitting bolt upright in bed, and a large man was standing in front of the window, while a second, smaller man was urging him to descend a ladder which had been placed under the window. The large man was, of course, Johnny Carew, and the smaller man was his partner Jerry.
“I told you this was a bad idea, Jer,” Johnny lamented.
“You idiot!” Jerry was saying. “You made way too much noise. Now look what you’ve done!”
“I didn’t make no noise, Jer!”
“You were like an elephant in there—stomping around!”
“It’s dark! I was trying to get my bearings—and then I saw that hideous monster and I got scared!”
We all glanced over to the portrait of a gnome, and I had to confess that Johnny had a point. It really was scary.
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” asked Tex. A good question, I thought, and I was curious to find out the answer.
“Do you want me to scratch him, Marge?” asked Harriet obligingly. “Cause I will, you know. In fact I don’t mind scratching both of them. Two for the price of one.”
“No, that’s fine, Harriet,” said Marge. She still looked shocked but was already recovering. “Johnny and Jerry!” she said, adopting her librarian’s voice—the one she uses when people return a book past its due date and have to pay a fine. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“That’s what I just said,” Tex pointed out.
“We’re really sorry, Marge,” said Jerry from the window. Only his head was visible, but that was bad enough. “We didn’t know this was your house, did we, Johnny?”
“Jer, we can’t lie to Marge. Marge is a friend, and you never lie to a friend. That’s what my mama used to say,” he explained to this captive audience.
Suddenly there was a loud noise on the stairs, and footsteps hurrying in our direction, and moments later Odelia and Chase came bursting into the room.
“What’s going on—are you all right?” asked Odelia, panting. She was dressed in Hello Kitty PJs and looked cute as a button.
“We heard screaming,” Chase explained. He was only dressed in his boxers, and looked very buff indeed.
“I’m very sorry,” said Johnny, adopting a rueful tone, even wringing his big hands. He was dressed in black from head to toe, like any sensible midnight marauder would. “Better come in, Jer,” he said. “We’ve got some ‘splainin to do.”
Jerry seemed reluctant to follow his friend’s advice, but finally did as he was told, and I saw that he, too, was wearing fashionable black, which, as we all know, never goes out of style, and can be worn on any occasion, even when breaking and entering someone else’s home in the middle of the night.
“Look, this isn’t what it looks like,” Jerry began.
“It looks like burglary,” said Marge.
Jerry took this in, then amended his earlier statement.“Okay, so maybe it is what it looks like. But we had good reason to pay you a visit, didn’t we, Johnny?”
“A very good reason,” said Johnny. “You have something that belongs to us, Marge. Only it doesn’t really belong to us, if you see what I mean.”
“You’re talking in riddles, Johnny,” said Marge, still speaking in her stern librarian’s voice, which was very effective, I must say.
“What’s all the noise?” suddenly a voice called out from the door, and soon we were joined by a sleepy-looking Gran. When she saw the small gathering, her irritation rose. “What’s up with this midnight meeting? Don’t you people have jobs to go to in the morning? I know I have.”
“Johnny and Jerry were just telling us why they decided to break into our house in the middle of the night,” Marge said. “Go ahead, Johnny. Tell us what’s going on.”
“Do you wanna tell ‘em or shall I?” asked Johnny.
“You better tell them,” said Jerry.
“Well, it’s like this…” Johnny began.
“See, that diamond you’ve got in that safe of yours—it’s ours,” said Jerry, unable to restrain himself.
“We had it and then we lost it,” Johnny said, pulling a sad face.
“No, you lost it, you big dummy.”
“I lost it,” Johnny agreed, looking shamefaced now, as he was still twisting his hands.
“Look, I’m this close to arresting you both for breaking and entering,” said Chase, “and if you don’t start talking right now, and making sense, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“Of course, Detective,” said Jerry. “And you have every right to be upset with us—but imagine our frustration when we lost that nice Pink Lady and then suddenly it turns up in the hands of that little girl, and before we can explain to her that the rock isn’t hers but ours, she hands it to her mom, and before we can talk to her, she goes and hands it to some jeweler who calls the cops!”
“The Pink Lady is yours?” asked Gran, adjusting the hairnet that keeps her nice white perm in place during the night.
“Sure, we found it fair and square, and as we all know,” said Johnny, “finders keepers.”
“You found that diamond? Where?” asked Marge.
“At the bank we burgled last year,” Johnny said.
“You ‘found’ it in one of the safes you burgled?” asked Odelia.
“That’s right, Miss Poole—Mrs. Poole,” he quickly amended. “Congratulations on your wedding, by the way. And I’m sorry we couldn’t attend. We were otherwise engaged.”
“You were in prison, you mean,” said Tex as he yawned then plunked his head down on his pillow again and crossed his hands in front of his chest.
“So you burgled the bank, and you found this Pink Lady inside one of the safe-deposit boxes,” said Odelia, nicely reiterating the story as it had unfolded so far, “and then what?”
“Well, then we took a trip to Mexico,” Jerry continued the story.
“You mean, you ran away to Mexico, cause there was an arrest warrant out on you at that point,” Chase said.
“Unfortunately our trip was cut short by the very unhelpful local authorities,” Jerry continued, ignoring Chase’s amendment, “and so we lost the opportunity to sell the rock.”
“We’d found a buyer for it—a very upstanding gentleman from Colombia,” said Johnny. “But before he could hand over the cash, we were arrested and deported.”
“How much?” asked Gran.
“How much what?” said Jerry.
“How much was this Columbian gentleman offering for the diamond?”
“A hundred thousand,” said Jerry proudly.
There were shared looks of consternation in the room.“You do know that that stone is worth millions, right?” said Chase.
“We do now,” said Jerry. “Which is why we’ve decided to find ourselves a new buyer.”
“So in spite of the fact that you were arrested, you still managed to hang onto the stone?” asked Chase.