The Mysteries of Max: Books 25-27

Chapter 6

Marge frowned as she applied the vacuum cleaner to her daughter’s upstairs bedroom floor. Harriet had been absolutely right. The house was a mess. Dust and dirt everywhere, clothes still in the hamper in the bathroom, dishes in the sink… She didn’t mind cleaning up after her daughter from time to time, but since this was already the third time this month, she was starting to think something was seriously wrong.

Odelia worked hard, of course, and so did her boyfriend Chase, a cop with the local police force. But she shouldn’t have to rely on her mother to take care of basic household stuff like this. And if she didn’t have the time, maybe she should hire a cleaner.

And as she vowed to have a talk with Odelia that night, she thought she heard the doorbell chime out its customary tune.

She shut down the vacuum cleaner and listened intently for a moment. Yep, there it was again. She wondered for a moment whether to open the door or not, but then decided she might as well have a look.

“You can come out now,” she said as she walked out of the room. “I’m done in here.”

Four cats gratefully stuck their heads from under the covers and sighed a collective sigh of relief. Marge smiled. It was funny to see them go into hiding the moment the vacuum cleaner came out. Well, funny for her. Not as much fun for them, poor babies.

She quickly walked down the stairs and headed for the door. The moment she opened it she thought she experienced déjà-vu, for the two men standing there looked very familiar indeed.

“Johnny? Jerry?” she asked, taken aback a little by the sight of the twosome. “Is that really you?”

The two men appeared equally surprised by this meeting, for they goggled for a moment, then Johnny, the biggest of the two, opened his arms, his face breaking into a wide grin, and cried, “Mrs. P! It’s so nice to see you again!”

Marge wasn’t prepared to allow herself to be hugged by the big guy, though, so she took a step back, folded her arms across her chest, and frowned. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Johnny Carew. And you better make it good, or I’m calling the police.”

Jerry, Johnny’s ferret-faced partner in crime, contrived to beam at her, which oddly enough made him look like a ferret in heat. “Now, Mrs. P,” he said, his voice smooth like butter. “No need to be like that. We mean you no harm. Isn’t that right, Johnny?”

“Yeah, that’s right, Jer,” said Johnny, a mountain of a man whose face displayed all the hallmarks of a goofy kid, including a certain guilelessness that was remarkable in one who’d seen the inside of a prison cell for a big chunk of his life. The two career criminals had, once upon a time, been assigned to Marge for their community service, to be carried out at the library she managed. Apart from stacking books on their designated shelves, they’d also knocked out a wall in the basement, tunneled into the Capital First Bank, absconding with the contents of no less than fifteen safe-deposit boxes. They’d escaped to Mexico, but had recently been apprehended in Tulum after Johnny had posted a selfie on the beach, sipping a daiquiri and having a great old time.

“So you’re back,” said Marge, who still hadn’t forgiven the bank robbers for taking advantage of her good heart.

“Yeah, they caught us in Mexico,” said Johnny sadly.

“No thanks to you,” Jerry grumbled. “You just had to post that selfie, didn’t you?”

“But, Jer, how else were people going to know how we were doing?”

“They weren’t supposed to know how we were doing, you great lummox.”

“The cops shipped us back stateside,” Johnny explained. “Even though I told them we liked Mexico a lot better. The weather is much nicer,” he said. “And the beaches, too.”

“So why aren’t you in prison, serving your sentence?” asked Marge.

“The nice judge let us out,” Johnny said.

“Community service,” said Jerry. “Again.”

Marge shook her head. “You keep getting lucky with your judges.”

“This time we’re going to be good,” said Johnny. “Isn’t that right, Jer?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jerry, glancing behind Marge at Odelia’s hallway. “So this is your place, is it, Mrs. P?”

“My daughter’s,” she said. “What community service?”

“You’re not going to believe this, Mrs. P,” said Johnny with a wide grin.

“Try me,” said Marge a little acerbically.

“We’ve joined Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

She stared at the guy. “Is this a joke?”

“No joke,” said Johnny. “We found religion. Isn’t that right, Jer?”

“Or religion found us,” Jerry grumbled. “No thanks to that idiot Judge Lockhart.”

“Our lawyer is a Jehovah’s Witness himself,” said Johnny. “He was the one who suggested Judge Lockhart we sign up.”

“We didn’t exactly sign up, though, did we, Johnny?” asked Jerry with a good deal of pique. “We’re doing our three months and that’s it. We’re out, free and clear.”

“Unless we like it so much we want to stay. And so far I’m liking it a lot. It’s so much fun knocking on people’s doors and telling them all about Jesus. Isn’t that right, Jer?”

“Grmbl,” said Jerry, his scowl deepening.

“Well, at least you can’t do any harm going door to door,” Marge allowed, thinking that maybe this was for the best. If two hardened criminals like Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale could be induced to find religion, there was still hope left in the world. Though judging from the way Jerry kept eyeing the painting on Odelia’s hallway wall, something told her the recently reformed criminal’s heart wasn’t entirely in his reformation.

“So can we interest you in the word of Jesus, Mrs. P?” asked Johnny.

“Not right now, Johnny,” said Marge. “I have to go to work.”

“At the library,” said Johnny with a big grin. “I loved working at the library with you, Mrs. P. All those books… and stuff.”

“Let’s not bother Mrs. P any more than necessary, Johnny,” said Jerry, tugging at his compatriot’s elbow. “Can’t you see she’s busy?”

And as the two gangsters retreated, only now did Marge notice how they were both clasping a Bible in their hands. The sight was so incongruous she did a double-take.

“See you, Mrs. P,” said Johnny with a little wave.

“See you,” said Marge, and found herself returning the wave, before closing the door.

At least they couldn’t rob banks while spreading the word of Jesus, could they?