world I would say to the police, let alone my family—who on second thought I decided I would
not
call to post my bail after I was charged with breaking and entering and God knows what else; I’d rather spend the rest of my life in prison…maybe I could learn a useful skill during my incarceration—when Shirley came flying down the stairs.
“Run, Tammy, run!” she shouted.
“What?”
“Run as if your life depends on it! Because it very well might!”
Should I have listened to her? Probably not. But a lot had happened in a short amount of time. I was in a state of shock and panic, not to mention exhaustion. So, without really thinking it through the way I should have, I simply reacted and ran out the sliding glass door after Shirley. She ran through Matt’s backyard, and through the open gate, over to where I had parked my car. I followed right behind her, keeping up as best I could, which wasn’t easy.
Shirley grabbed the handle on the passenger door and yanked it open. I ran around to the other side of the car and yanked open the driver’s-side door. “Hurry, Tammy, hurry!” she yelled once we were both inside and I fumbled with the keys in the ignition. “No one must know we were here!”
“I’m trying to! But shouting at me isn’t helping things!”
“You’re right.” I heard her take a long, deep breath. “Thank you, Tammy. We must keep calm. But I implore you to get us out of here as quickly as possible. Who knows how many lives are hanging in the balance.”
Somehow I managed to take a deep breath of my own and calm down enough to get the car started. Which wasn’t easy with Shirley staring at me with those piercing brown eyes while I tried to start the ignition, impaired by my trembling hands.
“Try to look normal,” she said as I started the car forward. I could have made a comment about that particular statement. Like, for instance, how losing that ridiculous hat she wore might help matters in the looking-normal department. I could hear the sirens getting closer, and my hands were so clammy I had to wipe them on my jeans before I could steer the car. “Go down that side street there,” she commanded. “The one with all the trees and shrubbery that leads into the golf course. Leave the lights off. We’ll park behind that large copse of trees on the edge there until the police go past and then quietly make our exit.”
It was a pretty good plan, actually, but even if it had been a horrible plan, I would have followed her directions. I was too blown away by the whole situation to think clearly. I coasted down the street and turned where Shirley directed me. We had only been safely parked behind some trees for about ten seconds before the first police car shrieked past with its siren howling.
I sat frozen in my seat, holding my breath, my fists clenched firmly around the steering wheel as we watched the police pull into Matt Peterman’s driveway. Two uniformed officers got out. They walked slowly toward the front door, shining their flashlights around the yard and the front of the house.
“Just as I suspected,” Shirley said knowingly as she peered intently through the windshield. “No doubt there are more officers on the way. Our killer is cunning and quick-witted. He—or she—must have lurked in the area, noted our arrival, and taken advantage of our presence to phone the police.
Why?
you may ask. In order to frame us, Tammy, that’s why. To frame us for the murder of Matt Peterman. Let us make our escape now while we still can, and foil his—or her—fiendish plot.”
I turned the car around slowly with my lights still off, turned the heater on full blast, and as we saw the two officers go toward the backyard, slid quietly off into the night.
—
In retrospect that probably wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made. I got caught up in the moment, and panicked, and just did as Shirley asked. But then it started to feel wrong. (Unfortunately, most of my best decisions
not
call to post my bail after I was charged with breaking and entering and God knows what else; I’d rather spend the rest of my life in prison…maybe I could learn a useful skill during my incarceration—when Shirley came flying down the stairs.
“Run, Tammy, run!” she shouted.
“What?”
“Run as if your life depends on it! Because it very well might!”
Should I have listened to her? Probably not. But a lot had happened in a short amount of time. I was in a state of shock and panic, not to mention exhaustion. So, without really thinking it through the way I should have, I simply reacted and ran out the sliding glass door after Shirley. She ran through Matt’s backyard, and through the open gate, over to where I had parked my car. I followed right behind her, keeping up as best I could, which wasn’t easy.
Shirley grabbed the handle on the passenger door and yanked it open. I ran around to the other side of the car and yanked open the driver’s-side door. “Hurry, Tammy, hurry!” she yelled once we were both inside and I fumbled with the keys in the ignition. “No one must know we were here!”
“I’m trying to! But shouting at me isn’t helping things!”
“You’re right.” I heard her take a long, deep breath. “Thank you, Tammy. We must keep calm. But I implore you to get us out of here as quickly as possible. Who knows how many lives are hanging in the balance.”
Somehow I managed to take a deep breath of my own and calm down enough to get the car started. Which wasn’t easy with Shirley staring at me with those piercing brown eyes while I tried to start the ignition, impaired by my trembling hands.
“Try to look normal,” she said as I started the car forward. I could have made a comment about that particular statement. Like, for instance, how losing that ridiculous hat she wore might help matters in the looking-normal department. I could hear the sirens getting closer, and my hands were so clammy I had to wipe them on my jeans before I could steer the car. “Go down that side street there,” she commanded. “The one with all the trees and shrubbery that leads into the golf course. Leave the lights off. We’ll park behind that large copse of trees on the edge there until the police go past and then quietly make our exit.”
It was a pretty good plan, actually, but even if it had been a horrible plan, I would have followed her directions. I was too blown away by the whole situation to think clearly. I coasted down the street and turned where Shirley directed me. We had only been safely parked behind some trees for about ten seconds before the first police car shrieked past with its siren howling.
I sat frozen in my seat, holding my breath, my fists clenched firmly around the steering wheel as we watched the police pull into Matt Peterman’s driveway. Two uniformed officers got out. They walked slowly toward the front door, shining their flashlights around the yard and the front of the house.
“Just as I suspected,” Shirley said knowingly as she peered intently through the windshield. “No doubt there are more officers on the way. Our killer is cunning and quick-witted. He—or she—must have lurked in the area, noted our arrival, and taken advantage of our presence to phone the police.
Why?
you may ask. In order to frame us, Tammy, that’s why. To frame us for the murder of Matt Peterman. Let us make our escape now while we still can, and foil his—or her—fiendish plot.”
I turned the car around slowly with my lights still off, turned the heater on full blast, and as we saw the two officers go toward the backyard, slid quietly off into the night.
—
In retrospect that probably wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made. I got caught up in the moment, and panicked, and just did as Shirley asked. But then it started to feel wrong. (Unfortunately, most of my best decisions
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