Shitake Happens: (A Shitake Mystery Series Prequel) by Patricia Mason Page B
Authors: Patricia Mason
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club."
"I'll be right back," Mo said as she swept her long brown hair into a ponytail. She picked up her camera and opened the car door. When she stepped out, her foot sank ankle deep into a puddle.
Could tonight get any shitakier?
She glanced around and, seeing no one, ran across the street toward the hedges under the drape-covered picture window of the Hawkins' house. Alternating squishes sounded in time with the clammy water squeezing between her toes as she moved.
When she got within ten feet of the house, Mo heard a muffled, high-pitched scream followed by a loud thud from inside. Her breath hitched in fear and her step faltered briefly before she continued on to wedge herself between the bushes and the house. Crouching beneath the sill, Mo inched her head up and zeroed in on a slight part at the center of the drapes to peek inside.
She observed Dewly Hawkins crossing the living room and then passing into the dining room to the kitchen beyond. Reva wasn't anywhere to be seen. But Mo did see a shotgun propped against the coffee table.
A minute later, Hawkins returned carrying several items: scissors, duct tape and what looked like plastic baggies full of ice. Near the center of the living room, he kneeled and began working on something.
Twisting this way and that, Mo still couldn't see what was on the floor. A big-screen television, apparently sitting on a console in front of the window, blocked her view of a large portion of the room. Mo decided to go around to the side of the house. She might get a better vantage point there since the side window was positioned at a greater height and the curtains were open.
After creeping around the corner, Mo edged under the window. Its lower edge was just over her head and there was no way to see inside even when stretched on tiptoes. Fortunately, the home's AC compressor unit was located on the ground beneath the window, just a few inches to the side. Mo put the strap of the camera around her neck and climbed onto the metal casing. Her weight caused the metal to warp inward with a whap sound.
Mo cringed.
That noise had been loud enough to bring Mr. Hawkins to attention. Was he even now at the window about to stare back at her when she peeked in? Worse, she hadn't thought to get her gun from the car trunk.
Stupid Mo .
With most of the population of Georgia armed, she should've thought to get what she needed to defend herself. If Dewly Hawkins shot her where she stood at this moment, he'd probably get off on a claim of self-defense.
With shaking legs, Mo straightened and stood as close to the edge of the AC casing as she dared. She gripped the windowsill for stability and leaned to the left the six inches she needed to see inside.
When Hawkins wasn't, in fact, staring back from the other side, a sigh of relief escaped her. Instead, he was crawling on the floor rolling up an area rug. From the way it bulged, Mo suspected that rug roll contained something. And Reva Hawkins was that something.
Once he'd finished his task, Hawkins wrapped a ring of duct tape about a third of the way from the rug roll's top and a then another ring about a third of the way from the bottom. He sat back on his heels and stared ahead. After a few seconds, he used the coffee table to lever himself to his feet. He stretched and arched to the right and then to the left as if limbering up before bending to reach for the rug bundle. Hawkins then grasped it around the middle and began lifting it into his arms.
Releasing her hold on the sill, Mo raised the camera and clicked off a few frames of Hawkins hoisting the rug up and over his shoulder. Mo teetered at the edge, her balance faltering, before she fell against the window. She had a quick impression of Hawkins' head jerking upward as she tumbled to the ground.
She had just plastered herself as close as possible to the vinyl siding, when she heard a whoosh that signaled the opening of the window above her head. Mo inhaled and didn't breathe
"I'll be right back," Mo said as she swept her long brown hair into a ponytail. She picked up her camera and opened the car door. When she stepped out, her foot sank ankle deep into a puddle.
Could tonight get any shitakier?
She glanced around and, seeing no one, ran across the street toward the hedges under the drape-covered picture window of the Hawkins' house. Alternating squishes sounded in time with the clammy water squeezing between her toes as she moved.
When she got within ten feet of the house, Mo heard a muffled, high-pitched scream followed by a loud thud from inside. Her breath hitched in fear and her step faltered briefly before she continued on to wedge herself between the bushes and the house. Crouching beneath the sill, Mo inched her head up and zeroed in on a slight part at the center of the drapes to peek inside.
She observed Dewly Hawkins crossing the living room and then passing into the dining room to the kitchen beyond. Reva wasn't anywhere to be seen. But Mo did see a shotgun propped against the coffee table.
A minute later, Hawkins returned carrying several items: scissors, duct tape and what looked like plastic baggies full of ice. Near the center of the living room, he kneeled and began working on something.
Twisting this way and that, Mo still couldn't see what was on the floor. A big-screen television, apparently sitting on a console in front of the window, blocked her view of a large portion of the room. Mo decided to go around to the side of the house. She might get a better vantage point there since the side window was positioned at a greater height and the curtains were open.
After creeping around the corner, Mo edged under the window. Its lower edge was just over her head and there was no way to see inside even when stretched on tiptoes. Fortunately, the home's AC compressor unit was located on the ground beneath the window, just a few inches to the side. Mo put the strap of the camera around her neck and climbed onto the metal casing. Her weight caused the metal to warp inward with a whap sound.
Mo cringed.
That noise had been loud enough to bring Mr. Hawkins to attention. Was he even now at the window about to stare back at her when she peeked in? Worse, she hadn't thought to get her gun from the car trunk.
Stupid Mo .
With most of the population of Georgia armed, she should've thought to get what she needed to defend herself. If Dewly Hawkins shot her where she stood at this moment, he'd probably get off on a claim of self-defense.
With shaking legs, Mo straightened and stood as close to the edge of the AC casing as she dared. She gripped the windowsill for stability and leaned to the left the six inches she needed to see inside.
When Hawkins wasn't, in fact, staring back from the other side, a sigh of relief escaped her. Instead, he was crawling on the floor rolling up an area rug. From the way it bulged, Mo suspected that rug roll contained something. And Reva Hawkins was that something.
Once he'd finished his task, Hawkins wrapped a ring of duct tape about a third of the way from the rug roll's top and a then another ring about a third of the way from the bottom. He sat back on his heels and stared ahead. After a few seconds, he used the coffee table to lever himself to his feet. He stretched and arched to the right and then to the left as if limbering up before bending to reach for the rug bundle. Hawkins then grasped it around the middle and began lifting it into his arms.
Releasing her hold on the sill, Mo raised the camera and clicked off a few frames of Hawkins hoisting the rug up and over his shoulder. Mo teetered at the edge, her balance faltering, before she fell against the window. She had a quick impression of Hawkins' head jerking upward as she tumbled to the ground.
She had just plastered herself as close as possible to the vinyl siding, when she heard a whoosh that signaled the opening of the window above her head. Mo inhaled and didn't breathe
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