Mad Mouse: A John Ceepak Mystery (The John Ceepak Mysteries) by Grabenstein Chris

Author:Grabenstein, Chris [Grabenstein, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Chris Grabenstein
Published: 2011-03-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sea Haven has been steadily filling up.

Every motel we pass on the way to police headquarters has the “NO” neon lit up next to the “VACANCY.”

It's a little after 11:30 A.M. We know Mook is meeting his dealer at noon. We don't know where, but you can bet every cop car, fire truck, street sweeper, and meter maid is on the lookout for his little red convertible.

Ceepak flipped on the radio when we climbed into the car. Not the police radio. The radio radio. Sometimes the music helps him think.

They're playing an obscure Springsteen song that happens to be one of my favorites. I just didn't want to hear it today: Red Headed Woman. Mrs. Springsteen? She's a redhead like Katie.

Tight skirt, strawberry hair

Tell me what you've got baby, waiting under there

Big green eyes that look like, son

They can see every cheap thing that you ever done

The part about the eyes? That's Katie.

Well I don't care how many girls you've dated, man,

But you ain't lived till you've had your tires rotated

By a red headed woman

I'm smiling. Not about getting my tires rotated. It's because The Boss adds:

Well brunettes are fine, and blondes are fun,

But when it comes to getting the dirty job done,

I'll take a red headed woman.

Me, too. They're feisty, those redheads. They don't give up easy. Katie will pull through. I know it. So does The Boss.

“That's Bruce Springsteen,” the deejay chatters when the song ends. It's my buddy Cliff—The Skeeter. He plays the sound of this annoying mosquito whine whenever he says his name. Skeeter. “Hey—maybe The Boss will bop by the boardwalk on Monday—”

Ceepak snaps off the FM box.

“Let's hope Bruce will decide not to join us,” Ceepak says.

“Yeah. Then we'd have two million people on the beach instead of just one.”

“Actually, given the presence of MTV, the chief estimates attendance might reach fifty thousand.”

“Wow.”

Ceepak shakes his head. I know what he's thinking: fifty thousand folks clumped together on the beach and boardwalk unless the chief shuts down the big show.

Fifty thousand targets.

We pull into the parking lot outside the police station. Dr. McDaniels and the two CSI guys are behind us in a government-issue Taurus.

“The evidence is inside,” Ceepak says when everybody crawls out of the sedan.

“Good,” McDaniels says, squinting in the white-hot sun. “If you stored it out here, it would melt.”

We head into the house.

In the lobby, above the gumball machine, we have this bulletin board. There are a couple of FBI wanted posters stapled to it, just in case any international terrorists decide to drop by Sea Haven for a little R&R. There's also this “Summer Safety Tips” poster with a fish riding a bicycle and wearing his helmet.

My favorite item on the board? This thank-you note from the kids in Miss Simmons's second grade class. According to the letter, which is scrawled with red crayon on blue-lined paper, the best part of their recent tour was getting locked inside our jail cell.

My favorite part of the letter?

The school the kids go to: Holy Innocents—just like everybody who's ever set foot inside one of our jail cells.

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