“Mrs. Remke,” Jennifer interrupted her. “Didn’t you see what happened yesterday in town?”
“Well, of course I did, child. I keep up with current events. What are you implying?”
“No, nothing!” Jennifer put her hands up in defense. “No, Mrs. Remke, I’m not implying anything, it’s just . . .”
“If you ask me, they should have shot that man right in the head and ended it right then and there. Now when they do catch him and throw him in jail, my tax dollars will make sure he’s fed three times a day and make sure he gets free medical care and free cable TV. Not very fair when you think about it when we have to pay for all of those things.”
“No, Mrs. Remke. It’s just . . . well, that’s how Uncle Jeff got hurt. He was downtown when it all happened.”
She darted her head around Jennifer again and bore her beady, dark eyes at Jeff. “Well, that was a stupid place to be! Why on earth were you down there?”
Jennifer looked over at Jeff, then back to Mrs. Remke. “Well, Mrs. Remke, didn’t you know that Uncle Jeff is a police officer?” She looked again at Jeff, then back. “They called him in.”
“A police officer?” She darted again. “Is this true, Mister Trent?”
Jeff, who had just lain there watching the confrontation unfold in front of him, nervously said, “Ah, well, yes, Mrs. Remke . . . I am.”
“Mister Trent, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Jeff was a little dumbfounded, glancing over at Genghis, who sat with his eyes glued to the TV. “I, um, guess . . . well, it just kinda slipped my mind,” Jeff said.
“Well, partially my fault for not inquiring, but I should have been informed. But that being said, it’s a very admirable profession, Mister Trent.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Remke.”
Mrs. Remke turned from the door, but stopped, then looked back to Trent and sympathetically said, “Get well and good luck with the search for that man, Mister Trent. He’s a menace.” She then machine gun fired, “And, when you find him, shoot him in the head! I don’t want my tax dollars wasted.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Jeff and Jennifer pulled into the garage after a shopping trip to the Food and More. It had taken a full week for Jeff’s leg to heal to the point where he could stand on it without limping or feeling much pain, and by then they were so low on nearly everything that a trip to the store was necessary. Jeff, as always, was impressed by the way Jennifer searched for the best deals and thought up meals on the spot. The backseat of the Thunderbird had several plastic bags filled with the fixings for lasagna, beef stew, and spaghetti with meatballs, along with chicken and frozen pot pies, desserts, snacks and, of course, coffee.
Jeff and Jennifer entered the apartment through the backstairs. They were laden down with the bags from their grocery expedition. Genghis met them in the hall, tail wagging and ears folded back, just like a good human canine. Jennifer placed her bags on the floor of the kitchen while Jeff placed his on the kitchen counter and started to remove canned goods, stacking them neatly into the cupboard. Jennifer was putting pot pies and ice cream sandwiches in the freezer when she reached down for her phone on her belt. It was gone.
“Oh, shit! My phone’s not here.” She started looking on the floor where she placed her bundle. “I hope I didn’t drop it in the store. I’ll never see it again.” She started looking into the bags in the hope it fell in one.
“I’m sorry, Twinkie,” Jeff said. “Check the backseat of the car. You did stretch in to get that coke bottle that rolled out of the bag.”
“Yeah, that’s gotta be it. I'm going down to the Bird and check. I’ll be back in a second.” She left the kitchen and went down the backstairs to the garage. Genghis waited until he heard her going down the stairs, then reared up on his hind legs and placed his front paws on the kitchen counter. “You guys get any of those chicken nugget things?”
Jennifer opened the passenger door of the Thunderbird, climbed into the backseat and started looking around for her cell phone. “There you are!” It was wedged in between the seat and back cushion. She put her hand on the top of the back cushion and leaned in reaching for her phone. Just then, the back cushion moved and she lost her balance, falling onto the drive train hump on the floor of the Thunderbird. “Oh, great!” she said, as she got to her knees. “Nice move, bowels.” The back cushion was still in her hand and pulled out at a forty-five degree angle. She said out loud. “What’cha got in the trunk Uncle Jeff?” She then pushed the back cushion all the way down.
At first, all she saw was darkness. Then something came into focus. It had to be an optical illusion, something too close to her face or too far. It just couldn’t be. She blinked a couple of times trying to get her eyes to adjust. Reaching her hand forward into the void, the object then became very clear. She got out of the Thunderbird with wide eyes and got on her hands and knees. She could feel the cold of the concrete as she bent low peering underneath the car. She saw the Thunderbird's undercarriage and below that the oil-stained concrete slab of the garage floor and nothing else. She
