Crime Comes to Abernathy Cove

"Keep an eye on things for me, Dandy." Miss Skinner locked her front door and bent to caress her one-eyed calico. "I'll return at the usual time and fix you a sumptuous shrimp dinner!" The cat meowed and watched her owner leave. Florita Skinner, who reminded people of Whistler's mother sans the cap, made daily walks into her little town of Abernathy Cove, Florida, making sure things were as they should be. The school board might have suggested she retire from teaching after fifty years of service, but they couldn't retire her from her town. These walks ended with lunch at her favorite soda shoppe table outside the Pirate's Den Café where she could enjoy the beauty of the town and the citizens--most of whom she had taught in the fifth grade. Those who were more hard-headed, spent two or three years in her classroom.

Stepping into the street, Miss Skinner side-stepped the remains of a chocolate ice cream cone. She frowned and reminded herself to tell Gus to get that cleaned up right away. It wouldn't do for the visitors in town to think Abernathy Cove was not a clean town. Miss Skinner spear-headed last year's city beautification project and was quite proud she had insisted on the salmon-colored terracotta sidewalks lined with brass antique street lights. They had been a bit expensive, but she knew they had been an excellent choice. Across the street she noted the courthouse, the bank, a drug emporium, candle shop, and city park. All seems as it should be--nice and clean and orderly. Miss Skinner passed several souvenir shops, and stopped to say hello to the grocer, Mr. Smythe as he polished his fruit and vegetable display.

Editor Bert Handley was putting out this week's issue of the Sentinel Echo and doffed his hat. "Tourist season's about over, Mr. Handley. I suppose we will be getting back to normal in a few weeks." Miss Skinner stopped, removed two quarters from her purse, and took a copy of the weekly paper.

"Won't be any too soon for me," he answered wiping his brow with a handkerchief before squaring the papers again in the machine.

Less than five steps later two running, laughing urchins exploded from the Cut 'n' Curl plummeting into Miss Skinner. Not missing a beat, she skewered the boy with a bony thumb just under the collar bone and the girl with her eyes. "What is the meaning of all this? How dare you act so uncivilized! Both of you get back inside that beauty shop and tell your mother to teach you the decorum I taught her!" The kids retreated liked spanked puppies to the safety of the shop.

Miss Skinner arrived at her cafe table out of breath and more than a bit out of sorts. "Tea, Susannah! I need my tea." She plopped onto a chair. Taking a deep breath, she set her purse and umbrella down on the chair next to her and dusted the table top with a paper napkin as the courthouse clock struck 10 a.m. Exactly on time, she smiled.

Gus Nixon worked in front of A King's Ransom Jewelry Store. "Gus, oh Gus. Could I have a minute of your time?" Gus walked with a slight stoop and always wore a Panama hat, red handkerchief around his neck, and what he called "overhauls". He was the town's entire maintenance department and took the job seriously. He swept Abernathy Cove's streets and gutters like they were the queen's ballroom.

He looked up and smiled his way over to her. "Yes, Ma'm. It a right purty day, don't ya' think, Miss Skinner?

"Yes, it is, Gus. You're keeping the pink petunias along the street looking nice and healthy. You do have a way with the flowers."

"Well, thank ya, Ma'm. I do likes 'em. There ain't nothing more invigoratin' than the sweet petunia smell floatin' around on the ocean breeze here in Abernathy Cove.

"Gus, there's a dirty old ice cream cone in the street right where someone will step in it beside Sally's Souvenir Store. Please make sure you take care of it."

"Course I will, Miss Skinner. I'll git on down there right now and be back in no time. Won't take very long at all."

The waitress put the tea in front of Miss Skinner. "You want the turkey club sandwich today, Miss Skinner? It's the special."

"Yes, Dear, that would be nice." Miss Skinner emptied one packet of sugar in the cup, added a slight squeeze of lemon, and swirled the liquid around. She enjoyed sitting here each day seeing her old students and friends as they roamed about the town. And, they all remembered Miss Skinner. People still remembered her organizational skills, eye for detail, and no-nonsense demeanor. Sometimes "that look" that had served her so well in the classroom could still bring a grown man to his knees.

As she sipped her tea, she noticed that the town drunk, Willie Tinker, was sleeping on the concrete bench that marked the entrance to city park just east of the bank. Poor Willie never had a decent break in life even as a youngster. She used her lace handkerchief to dry the tear sliding down her cheek. Most people thought Willie was crazy because he carried on extended conversations with himself. She knew he talked to himself because no one else would talk to him. She understood loneliness.

At 10:20 a.m. a rusted out, battered '55 blue Chevy Bel Aire with four men inside pulled up in front of the First National Bank spewing forth three men dressed in camouflaged attire complete with ski masks and guns. While the three were inside conducting their nefarious business, the get-away driver, being a creative thinker, backed the car up the walkway leading into the bank. He awaited his accomplices while checking the street and eyeing his watch. Four minutes later the first thief exited, tripped over his own big feet, and shot himself in the ankle. The second burglar out of the bank saw that his path to the left backseat door was blocked by his fallen compatriot. He turned, ran behind the car, and yelled, “Hit the gas! Let’s go!” The driver did just as he was told and gunned the car--still in reverse--mowing down the second thief. Robber Three exited the uproar, assessed the scene, and ran toward the park. The driver threw the car into drive and stomped on the gas. It advanced a few shaky feet, coughed twice, and died.

For the first time in her life Florita Skinner was speechless but only momentarily. "Susannah, come here!" The waitress approached staring across the street. "Did you see all that commotion at the bank? I do believe those rascals thought they were going to steal our money!"

"The first thing heard was a loud bam and then the crashing of glass. I can't believe my eyes. Here let me refill your tea pot."

The commotion and jarring report of a gun roused Willie Tinker out of his slumber on the park bench. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and hiccupped. He looked toward the mess of people outside the bank’s front door and then rubbed his eyes again totally confused by what he saw. With Willie, seeing make-believe stuff was a very strong possibility. The third robber flashed by Willie and escaped into the park. Willie’s blurry eyes were vacant, but with a nice red hue.

Gus was frozen in place with his mouth agape, starring at the circus playing out before him. Then, he dropped his broom and hobbled toward the two downed miscreants. Taking the torn bandanna from his neck, Gus tried to stop the robber’s ankle from bleeding. “You idiot!" yelled the fallen thief, “get that filthy rag off me! Ain’t you got no sense at all? You wanta kill me?”

“Ah, no sir, I’s jist tryin’ to hep you out a bit,” bleated Gus. “I didn’t mean no harm at all. I seen them put cloths on bleedin' things on ER. I knows it’s the right thing to do.”

The robber began to scream again as both of Abernathy Cove's police cars screeched to a stop blocking the path of the get away car. “Get this here dad-burned idiot away from me,” the man with the shattered ankle screamed at the nearest officer. His buddy who had been knocked down was out cold.

Chief Malcolm Smith approached Gus and the screaming robber. “That’s all you can do right now, Gus. You just go on over to Officer Clinton and give him your statement. I’ll take care of this gentleman until the ambulance arrives. Go on now.”

“But, Officer Smith, I’s jist tryin' to help. But, I seed the whole thing. Yes, sir, I did.” Gus flapped his arms like a baby bird trying to fly. He then limped to Officer Clinton who was in the process of attempting a meaningful conversation with Willie.

“Willie! Willie! Look at me. Willie,.....look.....into.....my.....eyes. There. That’s better. Now,” Officer Clinton said like a patient parent seeking the truth, “what did you see happen at the bank?”

“The bank?” slurred Willie. “Our bank?”

“Yes, Willie, our bank.”

“Is that what’s…ah…all the noise’s about?”

“Yes, Willie. That was all that noise you heard. What I need to know is what you saw.”

“Don’t reckon I saw… ah… anything. I was having a little nap. I sleep pretty sound, you know.”

“Willie, you were awake when I got here. You had to see something.”

“Well, let me think… ah… I woke up and... ah...saw Miss Skinner across the street.”

“Miss Skinner over at the Pirate's Den is nothing you haven’t seen everyday for the last ten years, Willie. I mean what did you see at the bank? How many people tried to rob the bank?”

“Rob the bank? Someone tried to rob the bank? Today?”

Officer Clinton let out a deep breath and began to shake his head. “Willie, how much have you had to drink today?”

“I had two beers, Officer. I swear, just two beers." Willie held up three fingers.

“Did you see anyone running from the scene?” asked the officer ready to throw in the towel.

“Nope. The…ah…thing I saw was some hunter running into the park. Do you think he was going hunting in the park?” wondered Willie. Then, Willie withdrew into one of his personal conversations. “Hunting in the park. They should never let someone hunt in the park. I need to get a little nip. I would never hunt in the park. Nothing but birds and butterflies in the park. I wonder if I could fry up a batch of butterflies? Wouldn’t be much left of a butterfly if it got shot." He lay back down on the bench and was snoring within seconds.

“Officer Clinton, Officer Clinton!”

Clinton turned to see Gus trying to catch up with him. “Hey, Gus, what do you know about this entire ruckus?”

“I seen it all, I did! I seen it all!. It was so excitin’. First, that there broke-down car comes chuggin’ down the street and parks dab-nab in front of the bank. Next thing I knowed, some guys come barreling outta the car and runs inta the bank. Then, the driver he turns the car around ready for…for a quick git away. Man, oh, man. Ain’t nothing this excitin’ ever happen in Abernathy Cove before!

“Gus, how many men did you see go inside the bank?”

“Two or three.”

“Was it two or three?” asked Officer Clinton.

“I’m not rightly sure.” Gus began to stroke his see-through mustache and beard combo. Two, but counting that there driver that’d be three. Anyway, soons they come back outside, the first one shoots hisself right in the ankle. I tried to…"

“Just a minute, Gus. You saw three men. Two went inside the bank and one remained in the car? Is that correct?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Anyways, I runned as quick as I could and pulled off my neckerchief to try to help that shot guy and he warn’t nice t’all. Why he told me to leave him alone, he did.”

“Ok, the first thief out shot himself. Is that what you are saying?”

"Yep."

"What happened to the man over behind the car?" asked Officer Clinton.

"Why that git-away car runned right over 'em. Yes sir-ee, it surely did. I saw it all!

"Anything else you want to add, Gus?"

"I guess that's bout all. What's they gonna do with that runned-over guy?"

"The paramedics are taking care of him. I guess he'll be in the hospital for awhile before he goes to the jail. You give me a call if you think of anything else I need to know, Gus. I'll be at the station after we finish our interviews here. Thank you very much. You have been a big help."

Thirty minutes later the interviews were completed, and Officer Clinton started to his cruiser. Looking across the street, he saw Miss Skinner waving to him. He waved back and went to put an APB out on the runaway robber. He didn't have much of a description, but they needed to round him up.

"Officer Clinton." Miss Skinner waved her handkerchief in a bigger arc.

Irritated he looked over at her again and waved back to her. "Hello, Miss Skinner," he smiled through gritted teeth. Miss Skinner, he thought, I don't have time to chit-chat with her just now. As old as she is I doubt she heard or saw very much. Her aging eyes and ears were the main reasons the school board suggested she retire.

"Joseph Trumann Clinton, you come over here this instant!" yelled Miss Skinner.

"Yes, Miss Skinner, I'll be right there. Just let me finish up this call to the dispatcher."

"Young man, I suggest you come here right now!"

Crossing the little space of street between his patrol car and Miss Skinner, he put on his best smile and marched to her. "What can I do for you this afternoon, Miss Skinner?"

"Why haven't you come to ask me what I saw and heard? I'm proud you became a policeman, Joseph. Lord knows I often wondered which side of the law you'd end up on.

"Now, Miss Skinner, don't be so hard on me," the officer laughed. "You know you were always my favorite teacher."

"Oh, horse feathers! Now, do you want to catch that missing robber or not?"

"Well, of course, I do and we will catch him." Clinton put his notebook into his shirt picket. "I know we don't have any descriptions to go on, but rumors will be flying soon and maybe his partners-in-crime will rat him out."

"Rumors, hogwash! Just go and arrest Phillip Henderson. I expect you will find him hiding out in his Uncle Jimmy's old Airstream travel trailer that's been junked in Jimmy's backyard for about thirty years. He lives over on 10th Street. At least that's where Phillip always hid out when he skipped school or got into trouble in fifth grade."

"Phillip Henderson? Jimmy Williams' nephew?"

"Yes," she mocked him, "Phillip Henderson. I’d recognize that run of his anywhere. I watched him run from fifth grade right on through his senior year of football. He was the most pigeon-toed running back ever to play ball for Abernathy Cove. Besides that, no one ever carried a football with both hands like Phillip. The man you are looking for carried his bag of money precisely like Phillip."

Having had her say, Miss Skinner drank the very last drop of her Earl Gray Black Tea, placed all the sugar packets from the table in her black leather purse, picked up her black umbrella, and walked stately down the sidewalk toward home.

{Word count: 2636}