Librarian to the Rescue. Tilly, What Have You Done Now?

By David and Linda Broughton

Two sisters, fraternal twins but nothing at all alike, accidentally walk into a burglary in progress, then things snowball from there. Tilly is three times normal size, in every way, while Martha, the librarian, is small and mousy. The tide turns, out of necessity... then there's more trouble to deal with, as Mousy Martha becomes Mean Martha, the Godmother. Humor mixed with mystery and action.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David and Linda Broughton
• Release date: Dec 10, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458100269

David and Linda Broughton

The love of my life, Linda, is deceased. There will be a few more books by us, since more are written, they are not edited yet. In her honor I will try to get them edited and out to the public, but it's not easy for me. I have a new writing partner now, as well as a partner in life. No it will never be the same, nor should it. To those that review my books. I would greatly appreciate it if you actually READ the entire book before you write the review. Skimming it and posting a review just minutes after you buy it doesn't give a full understanding of the work. One person did this with "Grumpy Old Spy" and totally missed the entire story, and got what they did catch all wrong. I don't appreciate that. If you're not going to do an honest assessment after reading the entire book, don't bother to review it at all. In fact, if that person would contact me, I'll give them their money back for the book, providing they pull the cheap shot review.

Book preview

Prologue

South Branch of the

Atlanta Public Library

Many years ago

Martha, a bookish, tiny slip of a girl is leaving her favorite place, the local branch of the public library. She only has three books in her backpack this time, not the ten or twelve she usually takes home. The only reason she's leaving is the library is closing. If she had her way, she'd stay here all the time. I've stayed too late again, I'll be in a little trouble with Mom, but not much, Mom's used to me staying late at the library.

Suddenly, Martha sees her sister Tilly running toward her at full tilt. Tilly is her fraternal twin, they're the same age, but that's where any resemblance at all ends. Tilly is three or four times Martha's size, as big as nearly any man. At thirteen, Tilly is already physically very mature, in a womanly way. Not so her brain, she's still very childish, to Martha's way of thinking. Martha's exactly the opposite, she's tiny, physically underdeveloped, and looks much younger than thirteen, but is extremely smart and well read.

Martha steps back, knowing full well from previous experience that Tilly will probably misjudge the stopping distance and run right over her if she doesn't get out of the way. Tilly does come to a stop just past where Martha had been standing. Half out of breath, Tilly blurts out, Martha, hurry up, I need your help.

What did you do now, Tilly? Stick the cat in the washing machine … again?

Hey, Momma said wash the cat, it's a washing machine … how was I to know it only washes clothes.

Whatever, so what's the problem this time?

I might have really done it this time. You know Dad's away on a job. Some guy came to the house, I think he's a repairman of some sort, I'm not sure, he got physical with Momma. I hit him over the head with a frying pan. He might be dead.

Did you call the cops?

I didn't, Momma might have by now, she was so upset, I don't know. I came to get you, you always know what to do.

Okay, lets get home, I'll figure it out.

I know you will. Tilly grabs Martha's hand, then begins running for home, about four blocks away. Martha is practically off the ground the whole way, as Tilly drags her along. There are cops at the house when they arrive. Some man is being put in an ambulance, he's still alive, so far.

The cops question Tilly a little, but since they already got their mother's statement, they don't press her too hard, especially not when she toys with another frying pan, a cast iron one this time, not the thin steel one she bent over that guy's head.

There's nothing for Martha to do about the situation, except try to calm Momma and Tilly down. Momma is slightly built like Martha. It's a good thing Daddy's not in town, he makes Tilly look small. He'll probably find this guy, and beat him to a pulp when this idiot that messed with Momma gets out of jail. Daddy can be like that.

Martha fixes some food, just simple hamburgers. After they've eaten, Momma, now calm, calls their Dad. He'll probably come right home from wherever he's working. At least we didn't have to move with his job this time.

Martha and Tilly go to the room they share. It kind of makes Martha feel good that Tilly came to find her first, it makes her feel important and useful. Tilly knows that when brains are required, I'm the best at that. If it's brawn that's needed, it's Tilly's department, if Dad's not here.

Chapter 1

Matheson's Equipment Sales,

Denver, Colorado

A shot suddenly rings out, all the employees of Matheson’s Equipment Sales and Service jump a bit, then look around to see what the hell's going on. A man with a homemade cloth mask over his head is standing in the doorway with a pistol in his hand. His first shot was a direct hit on the automatic electronic telephone switchbox. He did this to effectively disable all the wired phones in the dealership. All right, everybody into the back, except the boss man … where the hell is he? Don't make me kill all of you, I will if I have to, now move. The frightened employees stand on wobbly legs then head to the back, as the gunman ordered.

The gunman levels the pistol at one of the ladies that do the paperwork, Where's the boss man? She says nothing, she simply points to the boss' office door, now shut. All right, all of you, into the break room, now, don't anybody be a hero, and you'll live. If one of you makes a move, I'll kill all of you, starting with this blonde lady. Scared for their lives, the eight employees move into the break room. It's obvious to all that this gunman has scouted the place, the break room has no windows, and only the one door, the best room to keep everyone in. The gunman shuts the door behind them, locks it with a key, then breaks the key off in the locked position.

Another key the gunman takes out of his pocket unlocks the manager's door. The manager, Henry Lewis, is trying to use a cell phone, but to no avail, he's unaware that the gunman has a cell phone jammer operating outside, jamming all cell phones in the immediate vicinity. Okay, Lewis, open the safe, open it now, or I bust a cap in your ass.

There's no money in it, what cash we have is in the cashier's cage.

I'm not after money, where are your inventory sheets.

What the hell do you want with them?

Shut up and give them to me.

No, I won't. Why don't you just leave… I recognize that voice, I know you… The gunman fires his pistol, Lewis drops to the floor. The gunman starts going through paperwork, looking in the desk drawers for the combination to the safe, knowing as most thieves do that people will usually keep it somewhere handy. He works as fast as possible, knowing that anything could happen now.

Customers could wander in, the employees could break down the door. Oh what a mess I'm in now. Why did that son of a bitch have to remember me? I only worked here for a couple of weeks as a janitor to get the layout and keys, shit… now what… who the hell..."

Chapter 2

Littleton, Colorado,

part of the greater

Denver metro area,

fifty years later.

Martha is waiting for Tilly to show up. Martha thinks she is always waiting for Tilly for some reason. All their lives, it's been Martha that has come to the rescue of Tilly. She's seen her through three divorces, and the death of three other husbands. Martha doesn't blame the ones that divorced her, divorce seems like a better way out than death. Tilly isn't all that bright, but she is a force of nature, a brute force.

Tilly usually gets what she wants, even if she doesn't know why she wants it. The deaths and divorces have left her well off financially. Martha has set most of it up in trust funds so that Tilly won't blow it all on some cockamamie scheme or another. There have been so many, Martha can't remember them all.

Fraternal twins, Martha and Tilly look nothing at all alike. Martha is petite, with a trim figure. Her mousy brown hair is now turning gray. She looks every bit the librarian she is. Martha never did figure out why Tilly got all the looks, three times over. Tilly has the extra height, wide shoulders, wide hips, with a chest that could make Dolly Parton look flat. Of course, on such a large body, Tilly's chest doesn't seem all that large. Tilly isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, she's always in some mess or another. I wonder what's keeping her this time.

An hour and a half late, Tilly rolls into the driveway of Martha's modest, suburban, ranch-style house. Tilly's in her huge, brilliant red, convertible '59 Cadillac. It's been restored and souped up. It's really a fitting car for such a big woman. The top is down even though it's a bit chilly out today. Tilly won't put the top up unless there is snow or rain coming down. She'll blast the heater, but won't put the top up. It's one of her many quirks, and why Martha won't ride anywhere with Tilly driving, except on nice, warm days.

Tilly bounds into the house, nearly knocking down Martha in the process, she intended to open the door for her. She got pushed aside when Tilly shoved the door open. As it is, she is pinned up against the wall behind the door. Tilly doesn't bother to close the door either. Martha, where are you? Martha? Come out, come out where ever you are, Ollie-Ollie oxen free!

Martha manages to catch her breath, then slams the door shut. This makes Tilly jump. Tilly's landing shakes the whole house. Martha, what kind of silly game is that? Why were you hiding behind the door?

Martha gives Tilly a pained expression, but Tilly never seems to pay any attention to her facial contortions, I wasn't hiding there. I thought I'd open the door for you like I would for a normal person. You slammed me into the wall. I should have known better, after all these years. Sometimes I forget that you don't know your own strength.

"Oh, quit being silly. I know my own strength, it's you that doesn't.

Martha has to concede that point, I suppose you're right about that. Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about?

Tilly uses her usual rather loud voice, I want to get another vehicle.

Martha's eyebrows shoot up, "Trade in your Caddy? I thought you never would."

Tilly puts her hands on her ample hips, "Who said trade in the Caddy? I said I want to get another one, I didn't say a thing about trading in my Caddy. The only thing I've ever traded in it is … well never you mind about that, you silly goose."

Martha asks, Why on earth would you want to get another vehicle?

Tilly shakes her head, as if Martha should know, I'm tired of having to leave the top down just so I won't bang my head on the top.

Martha never considered any such a thing, she's a bit surprised. Oh, so there actually is a reason you never put the top up? I should be ashamed of myself. I never bothered to ask. I just thought it was Tilly being … Tilly.

Tilly shakes her head in a manner that announces that she thinks Martha's being silly, Well of course there's a reason, you're just a real silly goose today.

I thought you just wanted it down, so you left it down.

Tilly stamps her foot slightly, which is a lot more than most people, Duh, I hate to have to hunch over when I drive, but I'm tired of always messing up my hairdo too.

Martha's curious now, So what could you possibly get that would solve both problems?

One of them big Hummers.

Martha doesn't know what she's talking about, so she tries to have some fun with it, What big hummer? Is that something kinky? Who is he?

It's a brand, you silly goose. Kind of like the military vehicles, except these are made for the street. If those won't work, International Harvester trucks make a super huge four door pickup that should work.

Martha, ever frugal, replies, That all sounds pretty expensive to me.

Tilly nods, They are, but for my size, they're about the only options, unless I want to have some custom shop build me a pope-mobile.

Martha tries to have some more fun with Tilly, So now you think you're the pope?

You've sure got the silly-willy's today. No, I don't think I'm the pope, but I'd have to have a dome like that thing he's got, put on a car so I could drive it without hunching over.

A thought occurs to Martha, How come you don't have to hunch over when we go in my car?

Because I'm not driving. Jeesh, did you wake up stupid or what?

Martha quips, No, he was awake before I was. He's at work now.

Tilly frowns, Oh, I see. You're messing with me again. All right, quit it. I'm serious.

Hi, Serious, I'm Martha. You sure look a lot like my sister Tilly.

Oh, quit it out, cabbage head. Can I get the money for the new ride or not? You know you have to sign off on big withdrawals like that.

You never did say how much these things cost.

Tilly replies, The Hummer is about sixty thousand, plus tax and extras if I add any. The truck has a base price of one-hundred and forty thousand, before any extras, but you know I like all the extra doohickeys I can get.

Martha asks, So, which one do you want to get?

Tilly shrugs, I don't know. I was hoping you would take me over to the dealer to try them on.

Martha replies sagely, They're not shoes, there's more to consider than whether they fit or not.

Tilly shakes her head, "You can do the considerin' about all the other stuff. I just want something that fits me."

Martha nods, For once, you have a valid point. Let's go. I suppose you know where the dealers are?

One dealer. Matheson's Equipment over on Broadway, they carry both vehicles.

Wouldn't it be easier to drive them, or maybe just leave them sitting on the lot? They have to be a bit heavy to carry. Tilly makes a swat at Martha, Martha ducks it, then grins at Tilly.

Martha, you need to let up on those word games. Sometimes they don't work.

I won't know until I try them.

Lighten up on it, don't force them.

Martha nods her head, then grabs her jacket and purse. They get in Martha's Buick. Martha now knows why Tilly tilts the seat back so much.

The drive to the dealership is fairly quick, it's an off time of day, so the traffic isn't too bad. Tilly isn't saying much, she usually doesn't when she's in her reclined position. Martha thinks she takes a catnap.

When they get to the dealership, nobody comes out to try to sell them anything. Well, it is an equipment place, they probably think two mature ladies are in the wrong place.

The truck and Hummer Tilly mentioned are sitting right in front, near the street, where everyone passing by can see them easily. Martha thinks they use them to draw people into the lot. Mostly, this place has similar trucks, except with various kinds of equipment mounted on them. Dump trucks, van box trucks, or the kind with the lift things on them that the telephone and power guys use. Some have various other implements that neither Martha nor Tilly has a clue what they're used for.

Martha and Tilly look over the Hummer and the huge pickup. They're locked, Tilly can't try them on like she wants. Martha and Tilly march into the blue metal building with the typical glass walls in the front. It was once a Ford dealer's showroom. They moved on to a bigger, fancier place. The older building seems to fit with a heavy equipment sales place.

When they walk in, nobody can be seen. Not a salesman, not a secretary, nobody. No one is at any of the desks. Martha knows something is wrong. It's the middle of the morning, there should be somebody around. Either that, or the place should be locked up.

Tilly goes marching toward the back, looking for somebody, anybody. Tilly, hold up. Something's very wrong here.

I'll say. This is no darn way to run a business. They all must go on break at the same time. Tilly keeps marching to the back, towards the private offices. A shot rings out. Martha is too scared to move for a moment. Tilly screams, then lets go a stream of cuss words that would normally make Martha blush, right now she's gone too pale white to blush.

Another shot rings out, much louder this time, accompanied by another string of cuss words from Tilly. Martha manages to get her wits about her, and starts moving that direction. Tilly is lying on the floor. She has a huge pistol in one hand, some kind of cloth in the other. Her purse is lying on the floor with half the contents spilled out.

Martha is stunned, but fights it off to get into action. She kneels, straddling Tilly to check her over. There's no blood anywhere, always a good sign. Tilly is conscious, Get the hell off me Martha, I'm okay. The son of bitch knocked me down. I didn't think any damn man could knock me down. I got a shot off at him, but I don't know how to shoot from lying on the floor, I missed.

A shot at who?

As Martha steps off her, Tilly replies, Some guy, he had this mask on. Tilly holds up the cloth in her hand, its some sort of mask, probably only a pillowcase with the eye holes cut out. Ugly sucker too, no wonder he wears a mask.

Martha asks, Where did he come from?

Tilly gives Martha a look like she thinks Martha's crazy, How the hell would I know? I didn't exactly have a friendly chat. Hi, Mr. Robber, where you from? Jeesh, Martha, you really took the silly pills today.

"What room did he come out of?"

That one right there, the one I'm lying in front of, he sure as hell couldn't have knocked me down if he was down the hall a ways. Jeesh, wakey-wakey Martha.

Martha knows Tilly likes guns, and owns a lot of them, but hadn't realized she carries one with her. What the hell are you doing packing a big pistol like that anyway?

Tilly gives her that same expression again, You wouldn't expect somebody my size to pack a dinky one would you?

Martha clarifies, "Why are you packing any pistol? Do you have a permit to carry it?"

Tilly nods, Sure, the sheriff told me he'd give me one if I'd promise to date his brother-in-law. I did, so he gave me one.

He must hate his brother-in-law.

"What makes you say that? I am one fine specimen of womanhood, you know."

Exactly, to wish that off on his brother-in-law, oh well, hell. We can discuss that later. I better call the cops.

Tilly points a thumb at the partially open office door, There must be a phone in that office.

Martha shakes her head, No that's where the robber was. I heard a shot besides yours, I don't think I want to know what's in there.

Use one up front then. Help me up, I'll go with you. I wonder where all the help is?

Martha shrugs, Let the cops figure that out, come on. Martha does her best to help Tilly up. Martha reaches for Tilly's arm, pulling hard on it. Tilly uses her one free arm to push herself forward. Between grunts and groans, pushing and tugging, Tilly is finally on her feet. As Martha surmised would be the case, Tilly pretty much has to get herself off the floor, though offering to help is the right thing to do. Tilly stoops to pick up her purse and things. Leave that be, Tilly, this is a crime scene now.

Screw that, I'm not leaving my stuff layin' around so they can keep it. Tilly shoves everything back in her huge purse. It only looks huge when Tilly isn't carrying it. They try to make the call from one of the salesman's desks, there's no dial tone. Martha tries dialing nine first, still nothing.

Martha wishes now she had a cell phone, but on her small pension and part-time librarian pay, it seems like such an extravagance. Her husband, George, is a janitor for the school system, he doesn't make a hell of a lot either, but they do okay.

Martha tries all the phones she can find, there's nothing, until she tries a phone at some kind of computerized switchboard, it will dial out. She calls nine-one-one. After giving what info they have to the operator, Martha sits with Tilly on one of the uncomfortable modern style couches out front. The wait on the police doesn't take long in actual time. To Martha, it seems like it takes days. Tilly seems all too calm about it.

The first two policemen on the scene take their statements. The older one has Martha show him just where Tilly was knocked down. She takes him back, points to the spot. With a Go, and a hand motion, the policeman shoos her to the front.

When Martha gets back to the front, Tilly has the young officer pinned against the wall. She has him by the throat, his feet are dangling in the air as he kicks wildly. Tilly, put him down!

No, I'll choke the life out of this worm. He wants to take my gun. I told him he wasn't man enough, he's not.

Martha hollers at Tilly, PUT HIM DOWN NOW! Tilly relents, the blue in the face, young officer slumps to the floor. Now they will be arresting you for that.

Wanna bet? Them and what army?

Martha nods, Well, you might have a point there.

"Ain't nobody gettin' my gun until they pry it from my cold, dead fingers, and then I won't make it easy! If this little runt here thinks he can take me on, let him try. Once they get hold of 'em, you never get 'em back."

The officer has color back in his face, if his color is crimson red. He scrambles to his feet, then nearly runs to the back to find his partner. Soon, many more policemen are here, with tech guys and an ambulance. It gets to be a real circus, the cops are the clowns, one detective is trying to act as ringmaster, the tech guys are the clean up crew. The only things missing are the band and the animals. Martha and Tilly have to repeat their story dozens of times.

The policemen bring out most of the people that work here from some room in the back. The best Martha can overhear, they were locked up back there, all but the manager. Martha figures the manager is the one that's getting toted out on the gurney. The paramedics are working on him fiercely.

This makes Martha feel bad that she didn't go in the room to see what happened. I might have been able to help him since I know some first aid. Oh well, it's too late to worry about that now.

One of the detectives, at least that's who they think he is, he is wearing a suit, not a uniform, asks them to go down to headquarters so that Tilly can look at mug books or have an artist make a drawing, since she is the only one that actually saw the gunman's face.

Chapter 3

Tilly rides in the police car, probably to try to put the moves on the detective. Martha follows in her Buick. When they get to the station, Tilly and the officer park in the fenced-in lot for police cars. Martha has to park in the visitor's lot. The fact that the cop cars have to be parked in a fenced, guarded lot, right outside the police station, says a whole lot at how things are these days.

By the time Martha finds her, Tilly is working with a sketch artist on a drawing of the robber's face. Martha just sits on a nearby bench to wait. She rethinks sitting on that bench when an officer cuffs what she takes to be a hooker to it. She finds an empty chair, then pulls it over near Tilly and the sketch artist.

The detective keeps stopping by to see how it's going, as he moves about the office taking paperwork from one place to another. The reams of paperwork piled around here don't say much for the new electronic age coming to this department. They have computers, but apparently when they use them, they print everything out. With computers likely to fail at any time, it's probably a wise precaution, but makes for a hell of a lot of paper, probably more than before computers, not less.

To Martha's surprise, Tilly is being quite detailed with the sketch artist. "No, a little longer on the hair right there, no shorter there. No, not a full beard just stubble, like three days worth of growth on somebody that doesn't grow them real well. No, more of a dirty, I mean actually dirty blonde. The eyes are bluer." She keeps telling the artist things like that for about two hours. When she's finally satisfied, the portrait could just as well be a photograph of the guy. At the last second, Tilly has the artist add a couple of more pockmarks.

The guy has blue eyes, dirty blond shaggy hair, a scar on his face, plus lots of little pockmarks, a nose that was probably broken a few times, and a stubbly beard. He is ugly, Tilly was right about that.

When the detective comes by, he is amazed at the detail. Wow, you must be pretty sure that's him.

Tilly replies, That's not him, silly, that's just a drawing. It does capture his image pretty well. Tilly said it with a straight face, Martha doesn't know if she was trying to be funny or not, she often doesn't.

The detective replies, That's what I meant. Do you have somewhere you can stay? This guy might come looking for you.

I doubt that, when I fired off my .44 auto-mag, he laid rubber with his tennis shoes. How would he find me, anyway? It's not like I worked there.

With the internet, there must be tons of ways. You're probably safe enough though. I don't think he'll want to tangle with you. He's probably out of the state, at least out of the city by now, if he has any brains at all.

Tilly quips, He wouldn't if I wouldn't have missed. I'm gonna have to figure out how to hit where I want to, while I'm knocked on my ass.

The detective replies, If you figure that out, you best come teach us all.

Tilly nods, I'll do that. Are we done now?

Just a second, I need you to sign your statements. I typed them up while you were working with the artist. The detective puts Tilly's statement in front of her, Martha gets hers. They read them, then sign them. Tilly makes sure to slip the detective her number, though he has it in his notes and on the forms.

Call me sometime, maybe we can go shooting together.

The harried detective shrugs, Maybe, this job keeps me pretty busy. Usually on my few days off, I kind of like to take it easy. Watch some movies, grill some steaks, that kind of thing.

Sounds good to me, I'm up for that too.

"I'll let