Page 88 of The Body in the Backyard
“Mechanicsburg,” Riley said, reaching for Jasmine’s phone to program Ingram Theodoric III’s address into the GPS.
Jasmine slid on a supercool pair of sunglasses that made her look like a spy, then shifted into drive and stomped on the accelerator. The sporty tires chirped, then bit as they flew out of the drugstore parking lot.
“Woo-hoo!” Josie cheered from the back seat.
Burt braced himself by flopping down in Josie’s lap.
Gripping the handle above the door, Riley tried to plot how not to get arrested.
For a day that had begun with a shootout, the Saturday afternoon weather was shaping up quite nicely with sunny skies and temperatures in the fifties.
“So what’s the situation?” Jasmine asked as she careened into the left lane, barely eking past the back end of a city bus as it chugged along.
Riley pumped the imaginary brake beneath her foot. “Mrs. Penny and Mr. Willicott went rogue, and instead of watching Theodoric’s house, they wandered inside when the housekeeper took out the trash. Why would they do that when we explicitly told them not to do anything illegal or suspicious? Great question. We’ll have to ask them when we’re all crammed in the back seat of a police cruiser heading to jail.” She was winded by the time she hit the end of her explanation.
“This is why you don’t work with amateurs,” Josie commented.
“Offended,” Jasmine said, punching the gas.
“Getaway driver excluded,” Josie conceded.
“Yeah, well, when the list of suspects is longer than Santa’s naughty list, you use whatever resources you have available,” Riley said.
“We need better resources,” Josie muttered.
Riley’s phone buzzed.
Mrs. Penny: Code Cold Burrito update. Continuing surveillance from inside kitchen pantry. Suspect does not have any good snacks.
“I hate to say it, but can you drive faster, Jas? They’re eating their way through Theodoric’s pantry,” Riley reported.
Ingram Theodoric IIIlived in a sprawling development where the five-acre lawns were manicured and the houses were the size of high schools.
Mrs. Penny’s minivan was parked in front of a clump of fancy-looking evergreens at the foot of the winding driveway. The house was an imposing dark stone and stucco home with steep rooflines and a wrought-iron balcony over the front door. A pair of concrete lions flanked the porch stairs between ruthlessly trimmed topiaries.
“How are we supposed to sneak up on them with all this stupid open space?” Josie complained, eyeing the expanse of front yard.
“Mrs. Penny figured out a way,” Riley pointed out. She wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans. “Okay. Let me think.”
“Why don’t we just ring the bell and say we’re looking for two confused elderly people?” Jasmine asked. “It’s at least partly true.”
Riley sighed. “Because Mrs. Penny said it’s ageist and an offensive stereotype.”
“Three days ago, she pretended she couldn’t remember where she was when the deli guy caught her ripping open containers of roast beef because she goes by smell, not expiration dates,” Josie said.
“Apparently it’s different when the elder in question uses it as an excuse,” Riley explained.
“So what do we do? Break in? Drive over the mailbox? Set fire to the lawn?” Jasmine asked.
“No more fires. Remember what happened last time? As in last week?” Riley said. What should have been a simple surveillance had turned into arson. Granted, the “victims” were terrible people, and the neighborhood was still celebrating the arrest of their horrible son. But still.
“The fire part wasn’t our fault,” Jasmine insisted.
Riley glanced into the back seat. Burt’s tail thumped against the leather. “I think I have an idea.”
“You know what to do, buddy?”Riley asked, unhooking Burt’s leash from his collar.
He danced in a circle, lifting his huge feet like a show pony.
