Ann greeted the teen, who surprised Darla by giving the septuagenarian a gentle if enthusiastic hug. “I must say, I do like this new look of yours, all dressed up like a successful businessman.”
Darla suppressed a smile. Robert wasn’t exactly Brooks Brothers material, wearing his usual black shirt and jeans topped with another James-inspired vest—this one, in shades of red, blue, and yellow in a distinctly southwestern pattern—but he looked neat and professional.
“Thanks again for, you know, lending me the statue, Ms. Plinski,” he told her. “Ms. Pettistone really liked my window display.”
“I just saw it, and I think you did a marvelous job! It’s—how do you young people call it?—really rad. In fact, I may come back later to buy both books.”
“We sold half a dozen copies yesterday afternoon alone,” Darla told her, noting in amusement Robert’s expression of teenaged horror over an adult using sadly dated slang. “That’s as many as we sold in two weeks, and all thanks to Robert’s creative work. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if we sell most of the remaining stock this weekend.”
“I’m so glad. And, I must confess, Robert is the reason I’m stopping by,” she explained, joining Darla at the register. “You see, Brother hurt his arm yesterday. Oh, he’ll be all right,” she added as Darla made a sound of concern, “but we received a delivery this morning, and I can’t carry the boxes by myself. I was hoping to borrow Robert for a few minutes.”
“Sure, no problem,” the teen exclaimed, and then gave Darla an apologetic look. “Uh, that is, if it’s okay with Ms. Pettistone.”
“Certainly,” Darla agreed. “Now’s the perfect time, before the customers start coming in.”
“I knew I could count on you both,” Mary Ann said cheerily. “And I made some lovely pumpkin and cranberry bread last night. Why don’t I send him back with a few slices for you and him and James?”
“Yum,” Robert replied.
“It’s a deal,” Darla agreed with a smile that promptly faded as she recalled that the old woman probably had not heard about Curt Benedetto’s murder yet. “Mary Ann, before you go, there’s something I’d better tell you so you can let Mr. Plinski know, too.”
Darla filled her in, and when she had finished, the old woman clasped her age-blotched hands together and gave a despairing look. “Oh my gracious, Darla, what is this world coming to? Brother will be so distressed when I tell him. Do the police have any idea who killed the poor man?”
“Not yet. Detective Reese is the one handling the case, though, and I know he’s busy questioning people.”
“Oh, yes, Detective Reese. Such a nice man,” she added in a confidential aside to Robert, “even though he did almost arrest me that one time for breaking and entering.”
While the teen stared at her in surprise at that comment, she returned her attention to Darla. “Well, we’ll just have to trust him to solve the case. But I do wish there was something we could do to take back our neighborhood from these miscreants.”
“I’m with you on that, Mary Ann. Maybe we should talk to Reese about setting up a neighborhood watch.”
“You mean, one of those things where they, you know, wear red beanies and patrol with walkie-talkies and baseball bats?” Robert interjected in an eager voice. “That would be, like, totally cool. I’m in.”
“Oh, my gracious,” Mary Ann replied with a small smile. “Though, come to think of it, I do have a baseball bat that I keep by my bed. If Brother didn’t object, perhaps Robert and I could patrol together. Do you suppose I could wear a red ski cap instead of a beanie?”
“Sure, ski caps are way better,” he agreed. “And you know how Ms. Pettistone sometimes wears those fancy chopstick things in her hair? Those would make, like, really sick weapons, just like in the movies. Hi-yaah!” he finished, mimicking whipping out a pair of hair sticks from an updo and wielding them like twin foils.
“Wait!” Darla gave the pair of would-be crime fighters a look of mild alarm. She’d been thinking more along the lines of handing out fliers to the local homes and businesses, maybe coordinating a lookout post on each block. These two, on the other hand, were prepared to launch their own mini D-Day assault.
“Robert, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but if you want to organize a group like that, your job would be to call the police if there’s trouble and then get the heck out of there. No