Mortimer

Chapter 13

“It took them three hours to notify us?”

“Well we’re not exactly a top priority, Carter.”

“We’re the squadron that made her initial arrest.” Carter leaned back arrogantly, remembering the evening with clarity. “I’d say that deserves a pin in the map.”

“You did a fine job. That’s why I’m putting you in charge of the local investigation.”

“Local investigation?”

“Where do you think she’s going to go now that she’s escaped?”

“The woods, the mountains. Somewhere she won’t be found.”

“Exactly.” The sergeant nodded. “But she’s also going to need money, support, and a place to re-group.”

“You don’t think she’ll come back here?”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “What do you think?”

Carter felt a tingle of excitement in his abdomen. His career had skyrocketed with the arrest of the notorious feloness. She was a woman on the run. There were countless documentations of her indiscretions all over the country, most of them involving the robbery of rich aristocratic men. Typically, they fit a certain profile: Old, rich and with wandering eyes.

She had never actually killed any of them. Which was why this one was for the papers. Why Carter now had a life-long pension behind his name.

killed

“You think she had an accomplice in Georgetown.” Carter was putting the pieces together.

“There was.” The sergeant agreed. “It’s possible that there still is. That’s your job, Carter.”

“It’s possible they have already skipped town,” Carter thought aloud. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“If it were going to be easy, I’d have given the job to someone else. I need your full attention on this.”

Carter nodded in understanding, “if she comes back, we’ll be ready for her, sir.”

With satisfaction, the Sergeant stood up signaling the close of the conversation. “I’m assigning Orange to your team.”

Carter didn’t bother to hide his chagrin. “The new kid?”

“He performed top of his class on all of his written examinations.”

“He’s a poodle.”

“A poodle you’re going to train.”

“Fine.” Resigned, Carter pushed up from his chair, “but if he isn’t up to snuff, I’ll be requesting a transfer off my case.”

***

“Just what did you do to your jacket?” Mrs. Dixon demanded upon seeing Mortimer enter the house. She had only arrived home herself forty-five minutes prior when the front door was flung open.

“That minx led me into the lion’s den!”

minx

The testament may have convinced someone other than Mrs. Dixon, for Mortimer looked a fright. His coat was stained across the back with grass, his bow tie was crooked and his mop of hair was an unruly mess. His eyes were crazed and his fingertips were darkened with what she assumed to be graphite.

He was also dripping all over her front foyer. Mrs. Dixon put her hands on her hips. “What minx assaulted you this time Mortimer?”

minxthis time

“The minx did not assault me, the lumpish two-wit oaf did!”

“An oaf?”

“Call the police, the navy, the FBI, they will conduct an investigation!” Mortimer pointed decisively. “I shall not stand for this!”

“Eugene, what is all the fuss about?” A voice carried down from the top of the staircase.

“Mrs. Ascariot, it is only Mortimer, he had a run-in at the park.” Mrs. Dixon tried to sound soothing. The woman was wearing a white nightgown and her expression was vacant.

“Oh! That’s lovely,” her eyes brightened. “Have you brought the crab apples Eugene?”

“I was not at the park!” Mortimer argued. “I was at The Church!”

“Come with me, you’re soaking wet.” Mrs. Dixon grabbed him by the ear. “Were you swimming in the Winyah Bay, again?”

Mortimer yelped as she yanked him down the hall toward the bath. “It’s a monstrosity! An infringement upon my constitutional rights! Ouch, you’re pulling too hard!”

“You are a civilized gentleman. What are people going to say when they see you running around like some crazed lunatic?” Mrs. Dixon went to the bath and started the water.

Mortimer flopped down on the closed toilet. “I could not see the rudder as well as I would like. I shall require a pair of binoculars.”

Mrs. Dixon took a calming breath. “Is that why you ended up in the water?”

“No! Of course not!” Mortimer replied genuinely annoyed by the stupidity of the question. “What good could that possibly do?”

that

Mrs. Dixon added soap to the bath. “Can you tell me how you ended up in the water then?”

“That question is trivial compared to the outrage that has just occurred!” Mortimer exclaimed before proceeding on a tirade of indignant ramblings.

In addition to the standard education provided for most young persons at school, Mrs. Dixon had also spent almost twenty years teaching Mortimer about propriety, social graces, and training him how to behave appropriately. In fact, she was seen as one of the best “trainers of youth” in the county. Mothers from all over Georgetown County had solicited Mrs. Dixon’s opinion on child rearing a time or two, a fact that filled her with quite a bit of pride.

appropriately

However, at present, Mrs. Dixon was feeling like an imposter. How could she help other people with child rearing practices when her very own squire was so out of control?

She took the towels from the top shelf of the wardrobe that Mr. Ascariot had shipped in from Marshall Field & Company in Chicago. These were one example of the unending superfluous luxuries that Mr. Ascariot demanded stocked and ready for him and his young family before they made their move from the city over twenty years ago.