Schifflebein's Folly

CHAPTER 11: THE JUDGE & DAN

Mona Zapruder's ancient teapot had been the centerpiece of the window display at Twice Blessed consignment shop for a week when a well-dressed woman entered the store and conversed with dumpy, cheery "Mrs." Orkney.

"It's the strangest thing, really," the customer told Orkney. "I don't really drink tea very often, but I pass here every day on my way to the courthouse, and that window has just been, I don't know, calling to me."

"Not strange atall, Judge," said the smiling Orkney, already moving toward the access panel of the window display. "Happens all the time around here. In fact, I know just the piece you'll be wanting."

The lady judge watched Orkney open the access panel and gently reach across other pots, cups, and saucers to lift the Zapruder teapot out of the display. Orkney placed the pot in the judge's waiting hands and exchanged a wink with it before turning to close the access panel. "Now, you be good to Judge Witherspoon, y'hear," Orkney told the teapot. She's a grand lady, and yer lucky to be goin' home with her."

A crack of thunder rattled the doors and windows and all the merchandise in the little shop. Orkney and Judge Witherspoon startled, and the judge grasped her new teapot more firmly.

"Not lucky!" said Orkney, addressing the ceiling. "I didn't mean yer lucky, no, I meant blessed. Yer a blessed teakettle, to have a new home with such a lady as Judge Witherspoon."

A moment of silence passed before both "ladies" relaxed. Then Orkney moved to the register to ring up sale of the teapot, while Judge Witherspoon bent to look out the front window at the sky.

"Not a cloud to be seen," remarked the judge. "We have the craziest weather sometimes."

Another week had passed when, on a day that seemed as harmless as any other, Lloyd pulled into his driveway with a fresh, green bale of hay in his van.

Across the street and some distance away sat the investigator who had trudged through beach sand to interview Remmy. In his nondescript sedan, parked in the deep shade of a banyan tree, the man went unnoticed. He focused his telephoto lens and snapped pictures of Lloyd unloading the hay and carrying it into the house.

For a fraction of a second the investigator, who loved his doughnuts and coffee as much as the next retired police officer, wondered if he could lift as much weight as Sprinkletime could.

The investigator shook off his case of physique-envy, put down his camera, and punched a number into his cell phone.

"Yeah, Zoning Department, please," he said into the phone. "Laverne! Hey, baby. Listen, I wanna make a complaint about a guy keeping farm animals in a neighborhood zoned residential. ... Yeah. Here's the name and address."

When the phone call was finished, the investigator started the car's engine and pulled away from the curb. He congratulated himself on a job well done.

He passed the Schifflebein house just as Lloyd was emerging, unaware of danger.

Lloyd took no note of the sparse traffic on the street. His mind raced up and down many different paths as his feet trod the sidewalk toward Charley Bates' house. When he neared the Bates house's front gate, Lloyd brushed wisps of hay from his jeans then looked up at the gazebo-like structure in Charley's garden. He tripped the gate latch and entered.

Moments later Charley answered a knock at her front door and found Lloyd on the threshold. She opened the door wider and gestured him inside.

"Welcome!" she said, smiling. Her eyes seemed to twinkle with anticipation. "You're just in time for the debut performance of the Schifflebein Family Band."