Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(76)

“I surely do,” she answered, and gave him ten cents for his trouble.

After that he branched out to hauling things back and forth from the storage room and emptying garbage pails down the incinerator chute. He was in the midst of delivering a broccoli and cheese casserole from Sara Parker to Mister Bailey who lived three doors down from Olivia, when he heard the voice.

“Hey, kid!” Sam Cobb, still wearing his uniform, yelled.

The casserole jumped out of Ethan’s hands and smashed to the floor with a noise which could be heard throughout the building. “Grandma!” he screamed in a panicky cry of desperation; then he went flying down the hallway.

This was not at all what Sam had expected. “Wait up,” he yelled, “I just want a word with you.” Instinctively, he took off chasing the boy but by then several of the Wyattsville Arms residents had opened their door; one of them was Olivia.

She’d been expecting trouble; a nagging feeling had settled into her chest the moment she suspected the light in Jack Mahoney’s eyes had been a mistake, which is why Ethan Allen’s baseball bat was standing alongside the front door. Olivia grabbed it and charged into the hallway swinging. Ethan Allen, still screaming her name, darted through the open door just as Olivia whacked Sam Cobb in the knee. As Sam tumbled to the floor, Olivia scrambled back inside the apartment and double-locked the door.

By then Mister Bailey had telephoned for the police.

Sam Cobb was lying on the floor with a broken kneecap when the Wyattsville patrol car arrived minutes later. Were it merely Olivia’s word against that of a fellow officer in uniform, the two policemen may have shown favor toward Sam, but with a broken casserole dish splattered across the floor and nine neighbors pointing a finger at Cobb, they had little choice but to haul him off to the Wyattsville Police Station.

“But, I’m on assignment,” Sam protested as they helped him to his feet and down to the squad car. “I’m investigating an eyewitness report on the Doyle murder case,” he told them, “Eastern Shore Precinct, go ahead, check it out.” Without a doubt, that was the worst thing he could have said, because Sergeant Gomez, who was the duty officer that evening, immediately put in a call to Captain Rogers.

“Cobb?” the Captain said, “he’s off that case, Detective Mahoney’s working it.”

Jack Mahoney was at home having his dinner when he got the call. “Holy shit!” he moaned, when told of the situation. Jack reluctantly confirmed that Sam, although he had originally been assigned to the case, no longer had reason to be involved.

“Well then,” Gomez said, “have you any idea why he’s here?”

There was a lengthy moment of hesitation before Jack said, “I believe he’s got a personal connection to the lead suspect in the case.”

“Oh? And, that is?”

“His father. The kid Sam allegedly went after is an eye witness who claims Scooter Cobb, Sam’s pop, is responsible for a murder. Now, that’s not what the kid originally said, and we’re still waiting for lab reports, so we don’t know if the story’s legit.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sam Cobb was booked on charges of assault and attempting to intimidate a witness in a capital crime. He was placed in a nine foot square cell and locked down for the night.

Mahoney replaced the telephone receiver and returned to the dinner table but he didn’t eat another bite. In all the years he’d been a detective, this was the first time he’d ever had to turn on one of his own. Jack could easily enough believe Scooter Cobb capable of the crime in question; he was a bad-tempered man with a reputation for trouble. But, Sam? Sam had his share of faults—he was arrogant, aggressive, even belligerent when he didn’t get the assignments he thought he deserved—but how likely was it he’d try to cover up a murder? Sam Cobb? A man who had his heart set on making detective?





Ethan Allen

I figured I was good as dead with Sam Cobb coming after me. When I took off screaming, a bunch of folks poked their heads out the door; but, nobody did nothing except Grandma Olivia.

Let me tell you, it was a sight when she came out swinging that baseball bat! I’d never of figured a person her size could beat back a Cobb. ‘Course, she got the drop on him cause he wasn’t expecting such a thing. Next time, you can bet your sweet ass he’ll be ready for her.

Grandma says now that the police has got Scooter’s boy in jail, he ain’t gonna be hurting nobody. She says I got nothing more to worry about.

But me…well, I say she don’t know those Cobbs! Them is the meanest men on earth and if you ain’t looking to get pulverized, you’d best be prepared.





Taking No Chances

After the Wyattsville Police had carted Sam Cobb off, Olivia’s nerves took hold; she shivered and trembled as if there was an earthquake happening inside of her. Icy cold beads of perspiration rose up on her forehead and her knees buckled under. “No wonder,” Clara clucked, “given what you’ve just gone through! It’s a miracle you didn’t pass out cold!” Clara brewed a pot of chamomile tea, saying it was just the thing to help a person relax. Barbara Conklin, because of the incident when she’d backed her husband’s car into a telephone pole, knew tea alone was too weak a remedy for a severe case of nerves, so she added two shots of brandy to the cup. Fred McGinty, who swore by the super-strength sleeping pills in his medicine cabinet, dashed back to his apartment, brought back two and plunked them into Olivia’s tea.