Page 93 of A Rose of Steel
She grabbed my arm and put one finger up to her lips, telling me to keep quiet. Tilting her head, she seemed to be listening for something.
“Did you hear that?” she asked in a strained whisper.
“No,” I said in my regular voice.
“Shhhh!” she said and pulled me away from the closet and toward the back door. It was made out of glass and led out to the back parking lot. She peered through the door, let out a whistle and said, “The nerve! Will you look at that?” And with that she turned, went back to the storage closet and grabbed a broom. I didn’t venture over to look out the door, whatever was out there, as far as I was concerned, could stay. But Auntie had other ideas for me. On the way back she clutched my hand and pulled me out the door behind her.
“What the...!” I said, faltering at her show of strength.
“I gotcha!” Auntie said, pointing her broom at Shane Blanchard who stood in the parking lot behind a truck, the bed filled with the missing cases.
He chuckled when he saw Auntie. “The wicked witch of Roble. Where you off to on your broom?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said.
“I’m taking back my drinks. You don’t seem to want to do anything with them.”
“You’re not taking those anywhere,” she said. “They’re evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” he said. “Of a booster club president who doesn’t know how to take care of the local football team?”
“Football?” she said, her eyes squinting. “Where is King?”
“I’m right here, Mrs. Derbinay,” a boy said coming from around the truck.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I was just helping Mr. Blanchard,” he said, his eyes were big and he held out his hands like he was pleading. “It’s okay, Mrs. Derbinay,” he said. “Really it is.”
“Leave the boy alone,” Shane said. “He doesn’t need anything from you, we’ve got him covered.”
“You don’t have anything covered,” Auntie Zanne said and rushed Shane Blanchard with her broom.
Chapter Forty-One
It took King and I more than a minute or two to subdue Auntie and get the broom from her. King grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away, her feet kicking and her yelling, while I snatched the broom out of her tightly fisted hands. Still we couldn’t get Shane Blanchard to leave. Football player King dug up some defensive basketball moves—hands up in air, feet shuffling around Auntie to keep her from attacking Shane again—while I dug my phone out of my purse to call Pogue.
“I’ll be back,” Shane said. “With lawyers. Those drinks are my property,” he shook a fist at us as he drove away. “And you can’t keep them.”
“Auntie!” I said after hanging up from Pogue. “What in the world was that about? Causing a scene at the banquet. Attacking folks with a broom.”
“Those drinks were evidence.” Auntie leaned against me, so tired she couldn’t hold herself upright. She wiped the sweat from her brow. “And no one saw me back here.”
“Still,” I said and shook my head.
“I told you Shane Blanchard gave me those cases of that Nasty Max as a bribe so I’d point Roble’s football players to him.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“I do now,” she said, huffing out of breath and pointed to King. “He was my witness. I told you I was going to look into it.”
“I still am, Mrs. Derbinay.”
“You were helping him take the evidence away,” she said, trying to raise her voice at King, but didn’t have enough breath.
“Whether you have the drinks or not, it’s not stopping me from telling what I know,” King said. “I owe you that as much as you’ve helped me. And I told you I would.” He came over and stood by her, putting his hand in hers. “I just didn’t want him to hurt you.”
“It looked like she was the one doing all the hurting,” I said.
