His backup of deputized locals arrived right behind him, squealing into the parking lot, making enough noise to wake a teenage boy on a Saturday morning.
The masked marauder was doomed, and he knew it, judging by the way he bolted out of the back room. He jumped behind the counter and tried to smash the drive-thru window with the butt of his gun. When that didn’t work, he clocked the teller on her forehead instead. Her eyes rolled up until the whites showed, then she went over backwards.
Someone yelled, “Everybody down,” and it didn’t come from the robber. It came from outside the building. In the Upper Peninsula, or the U.P., as we call it, “Everybody down” means only one thing when guns are involved.
Pearl screamed again, and we all hit the floor.
Cora Mae, a little slow on the dive, clonked me in the head with a black, strappy high heel. From my face-down position, I could see orange sneakers running this way and that in short, confused motions.
“Boondoggle,” I muttered, surprising myself with the unconscious use of my word for the day. Usually I have to really work at finding the proper usage conditions. I couldn’t believe how my mind sharpened in this time of crisis.
The guy was about to find out how pointless his misguided project really was.
“Crap,” our robber screamed, panic choking him up. “Shi-”
A bullet zinged into the building, busting out the front window and shattering my hope for a peaceful hostage negotiation. We’d never seen a real bank robbery in Stonely before. Dickey Snell, temporary sheriff until Blaze recovered, must be in his glory at the opportunity to fire at random. The fact that local residents were inside wasn’t slowing him down one bit. Dickey tends to be over-anxious, and he’s been known to lose his self-control in stressful situations.
The robber had to be from out-of-town. Otherwise he wouldn’t have tried to hold up the credit union. Everybody in Stonely is armed for combat, every weapon is a stone’s throw away, and worst of all, or best of all depending on what side of the armory you’re on, every one of us can shoot a nickel off the top of a beer can.
I don’t know why I cared, but I was worried about the robber’s future health. Dickey hadn’t even given him the option of surrendering. I had my stun gun hidden from view and I was fully prepared to take him down without bloodshed.
Movement on top of the town hall across the street caught my eye. From my position on the floor, I had a direct view of the sky and rooftops. A man with a rifle appeared in my line of sight. He took aim.
“Hit the floor,” I shouted to our robber, pulling hard on his pant leg while charging up the stun gun at the same time.
But I was too late.
I heard a bang, more glass shattering, then an eerie moment of silence.
The robber dropped to the floor, his peashooter skidding and landing not two inches from my face. The sharpshooter on the town hall roof peered through his scope and sighted-in again just in case the first shot hadn’t done the job. Before turning off the stun gun, I gave the shooter a football timeout sign with my hands. I didn’t know if he saw me, but he didn’t fire again.
Dickey Snell burst through the front entrance. I wanted to pick up the robber’s measly pistol and put a round into Dickey’s rear end for endangering upstanding citizens by handling the situation like he’d cornered Butch Cassidy.
No-neck Sheedo, his partner in crime fighting, stumbled in behind him, along with half the town. Cora Mae stood up and smoothed herself out. The rest of us did, too. We formed a circle around the dead robber. No question about it. He was gone. Even with the face mask, we all knew that. The staring, blank eyes and the hole through his forehead cemented his fate.
Dickey pulled off the robber’s mask, and we stared some more.
“Not from around here,” No-Neck offered, shaking his big neckless noggin. “Anybody know this guy?”
“No, not, nope.” Heads shook, mouths muttered.
“He’s from the U.P.,” I offered, saddened by the abrupt end of a life.
“Not with shoes like that, ya know, eh?” someone said.
“Expound on that, Gertie.” Dickey, the know-it-all college graduate, puffed himself up.
“He said, eh.”
Everyone waited. Dickey dropped his arms to his waist to suggest impatience.
“Spit it out,” No-Neck said. “He said what?”
“He said, eh. E.H.” Did I have to spell everything out for them? “He said eh at the end of his sentence, like a Yooper. He talked like us.”
Tourists from down state like to compare our speech to characters from the movie
Everyone stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “We do…,” I insisted, “…talk different.” Was I the only one who could tell? Years ago I came to the U.P. with my Barney, so I’m still considered a transplant by the old timers. Most of the locals lived here their whole lives and haven’t even traveled outside of our state borders.
“Well he won’t be saying eh anymore, eh?” someone in the back offered.
Dickey bent down and looked him over. He wasn’t much to see. Scrawny, stubbly face, bushy brows, a scar on his cheek that looked like a dog bite in his past that had required a few stitches.
“Nice shot,” Dickey said. “Who did the shooting?” Nobody said anything. “It’s okay to come forward,” he said. “Whoever you are, you won’t be incarcerated. You’ll be exonerated. You might even be in line for a special medal for bravery. Speak up.”
Muttering among the onlookers.
“Oh, come on,” No-Neck said. “
“A guy on the town hall roof plugged him,” I said. “He had a rifle with a scope. Dickey, I mean, Deputy Snell, who did you send up there?”
“I didn’t send anybody to the roof.” Dickey was getting hot.
Cora Mae had been eyeing up the men, contemplating her next victim. She isn’t called the Black Widow for nothing. Cora Mae married and buried three husbands, and she’s on the make for another one.
She stopped preening and said something significant. “The dead robber said he had a partner outside.” She giggled nervously. “He wasn’t dead when he said it.”
“I didn’t see anyone outside until the armed forces showed up,” I said to the acting sheriff. “It had to be one of your men.”
Dickey ran his hands through his greasy hair and readjusted his cat-hair encrusted green jacket. “Deputy Sheedo, I want statements from everybody.”
No-Neck rearranged the alleged witnesses and started taking statements. A moan from behind the counter reminded us that someone had been injured. The new teller rose, holding her forehead. I guessed this would be her last day on the job.
The town’s finest rushed over to offer their assistance. We have our share of emergency medical technicians in Stonely. The local men and some of the women like to join the volunteer fire department so they can play with the red trucks and long hoses, but you can’t qualify without the proper credentials.
While they were administering to the teller, Dickey picked up the pillowcase and opened it. He pulled out a package of bills and ripped off the paper surrounding it. His mouth fell open, which is where it is most of the time anyway.
“What’s wrong?” I said, leaning over the pillowcase for a good look.
Dickey reached in and pulled out more of the contents, peeling each bundle apart. He flung them over his shoulder and pulled out some more.
Pearl’s cash was at the bottom. The rest of the pillowcase was stuffed with Monopoly money.
Chapter 2
