Kasey Michaels - Bowled Over

"Ludicrous as it seems, yes, I think we finally have the correct motive. But there's still the matter of just how Barry was able to lure Bodkin onto the beach at midnight on Christmas Eve."

"And that's where Lisa comes in?" Maggie asked, feeling a knot beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. "Oh, please, Alex, please don't tell me Lisa was involved."

"How else would you lure a man like Bodkin to the beach, Maggie? Willingly or unwillingly, I believe Lisa made an assignation with the man. Except, of course, instead of Lisa, it was Barry who made an appearance on the beach. After stealing your father's bowling ball from his bag while he, your father, was not quite having an assignation of his own, but close enough as to make this entire thing a dance of supposed lovers, and send us guessing in all the wrong directions."

"If she did it, she was forced into it, Alex. Lisa is a scared woman. She looked scared when we saw her. And, okay, maybe a little guilty, now that I think back on it, so she probably knew, at least after the fact, that her husband killed Bodkin. And that's also why she was so very sure Daddy wasn't the murderer ..."

"We'll sort it all out later, Maggie. For now, I want you to stay here while I go pay a visit to the Butts family."

"Because you're worried about Lisa. Barry was pretty mad, wasn't he?"

"Yes. The wheels, as I've heard you say, are coming off his world. He wanted to know where your father is but, lacking Evan as a target, I believe Lisa will be the one to receive the brunt of his anger."

"Then I'm coming with you," Maggie said, unbuckling her own seat belt, just as the front door of the Buttses' house burst open and Barry came running out, heading down the street the short distance to the Boardwalk, and the building containing the Butts Bicycle Rental Shop.

"He's running! We can't let him get away!" Maggie said—shouted in the closed car. "And there's Lisa, standing at the door. Ah, man, look at her, Alex. She's holding a knife! Good for you, Lisa!"

But Alex was already gone, trotting after Barry, and Maggie turned the key in the ignition, not willing to be left behind. She wanted to be in on the kill, er, that is, the capture.

One hundred yards later, she slammed on the brakes, threw the gear shift into Park, and stumbled out of the car, already reaching for the backdoor and her walker, one eye on Alex, who was banging on the doors, calling Barry's name, doing both even as he was looking for a way to get inside the bicycle shop.

"Wait for me!" she yelled, hopping toward Alex, reaching him just as one side of the wide double doors flew open and Barry Butts raced by them on one of the rental bikes. Up the ramp he went, onto the Boardwalk, turning south.

"I told you to stay here."

"And I didn't listen," Maggie said, looking inside the bicycle shop. "Quick, Alex, one of those surreys. See that red one? It's a two-seater."

"And what do you propose I do with it?" he asked, even as he pulled the contraption forward.

"Simple. You pedal with both feet, I pedal with one foot, and we catch up to the bastard, take him down. Or do you know how to ride a bike? I never had you ride a bike in any of our books."

"Point taken," Alex said, lifting her onto the seat, and trotting around to climb into the other side. "Show me."

Maggie did a quick tutorial on how to work the pedals, and they were off, climbing the ramp onto the Boardwalk and heading after Barry Butts in the dark.

"How long is this Boardwalk, Maggie?"

"I don't know. Twenty-six, twenty-eight long blocks? But he'll go down one of the ramps and back onto the street at some point, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do. Keep pedaling."

There was no one else on the Boardwalk and the streetlights on the ocean side of the thing were the only illumination. But Barry wasn't that far ahead of them.

"He should be out of sight by now," Maggie said, holding onto Alex's cane as he steered the surrey and they both pedaled for all they were worth.

"He's bleeding, Maggie," Alex told her. "I saw blood on his shirt when he burst past us."

"Lisa! That took guts, didn't it? Or maybe she'd just plain had enough. Pedal faster, Alex!"

"You'll never catch him, you know."

Maggie sliced her eyes to the right, to see Henry Novack and his go-cart riding neck-and-neck with them. "Stop following us, Henry!"

He ignored her. "I can take him, you know. You've never seen me put the pedal to the metal. My pal Gabe souped it up for me. Extra battery power, or something. How much?"

"How much what?" Maggie called out in the cold wind that was slamming at them from the ocean. "How fast can you go, you mean?"

"No, Maggie," Henry shouted back. "How much is it worth to you for me to catch him for you?"

"He's a murderer, Henry. He's already killed one man, and he tried to run you down, remember?"

"I remember. Still not going to do it for free! How much!"

"Five hundred dollars, Henry," Alex said, still pedaling, even though Maggie had sort of forgotten to keep up her end.

"Oh, hell," Maggie said, leaning against the back of the seat. "Go get him, Henry. We'll catch up."

"Right," Henry said, and then surprised Maggie by pulling the sword cane out of her hands. He waved it once, above his head, pointed it out straight in front of him, yelled, "Charge!" and was gone, pulling away from the surrey as if it was standing still.

"Go, Henry, go!" Maggie shouted, leaning forward now, pedaling for all she was worth with her one good foot.

She saw Henry pulling closer to Barry, who seemed to be running out of gas—well, figuratively.

Closer.

Closer.

"Sic him, Henry!"

Closer.

Henry drew abreast of the bike and lowered the cane, sticking it between the spokes of the back wheel of the bicycle.

There was a noise. Not a nice noise. Sort of a twanging noise, probably caused by the metal inside the cane colliding with the metal spokes.

"My cane!" Alex shouted, and then added more quietly. "My beautiful cane."

But, as brakes went, you didn't really get much better than sticking a sword through bicycle spokes.

Barry Butts flew over the handlebars, doing a remarkable somersault, and landed, well, on his butt. That way he didn't have too far to fall when he fainted.

Alex slowed and then stopped the surrey and hopped out of it in time to see Henry holding the cane, bent into nearly a ninety degree angle, over Barry, daring him to try to get up.

"Got him!" Henry crowed.

"But my cane ..."

"Oh, get over it, Alex," Maggie told him as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed 9-1-1.

"My cane ..." Alex said again, and Maggie began to giggle. She'd never seen Alex so flustered. "Was that entirely necessary, Henry?"

"Seemed so to me," he said, handing the cane to Alex. "And I did it, didn't I? I'm a hero now. A five-hundred-dollars-richer hero, that is."

"Yes, you are," Alex said dully, still looking at his cherished, bent possession. "But my cane ..."

... there was a girl named Margaret Kelly, who longed to grow up, leave her New Jersey home, and become a Famous Author in New York.

That all pretty much worked out for her.

But, as Maggie found out, some things go with you wherever you go, even as they are also waiting for you when you get back.

Like, you know, a twofer?

Or, as Maggie's Irish great-grandmother had been heard to comment from time to time: "Ain't that a pisser?"

Did her perfect hero creation actually favor a quizzing glass because Maggie was once impressed with Frankie Kelso's class ring hanging around her classmate Brenda's neck?

Had she actually patterned the lovable Sterling Balder after her father?

And—returning to her parents' condo to tell them Barry Butts had not only been captured but had confessed, to find her parents getting more than chummy in front of the living room fireplace—would she ever get out of therapy?