The Thief Who Stole Midnight (5 page)

"No..." But the filmmaker wheels were turning in Mike's head as he pondered this new scenario. "That would be..."

"Wrong," Maddie prompted. "That would be wrong..."

"Maybe we could..." Mike thought for a bit. "Wait for him to come to, lecture him on the evils of sin and let him go."

"So he can break in again? Nice job, Gandhi. What if our daughter's here next time? What if she was here alone? What if he had taken her? You want me to let a kidnapper go?"

"Whoa, hold up there." Mike said. "First off, he's not a kidnapper. Second, what would our daughter be doing home alone? She's only six months old. If we made a habit of leaving her home alone, I think we'd be facing bigger problems than an imaginary kidnapper."

Suddenly, the burglar whimpered and moaned in his sleep, then hollered something unintelligible.

Maddie and Mike rushed to the bedroom, getting stuck in the doorway, as they both tried to push through at the same time.

"Move over," she grunted.

"Stop it. I'm the man. I'm supposed to go first, so I can protect you."

She eyeballed Mike and held up the frying pan she was carrying. "Which one of us has a weapon? I'll go first."

"Oh, no you don't. I don't need a frying pan. My hands are lethal weapons," Mike said, waving them around.

"And if they don't work, you can always use them to whip out your Dr. Scholl's," she muttered. But she finally stepped aside and let him through.

"Thank you," Mike said, trying to maintain his manly dignity.

"If you had let me get that gun, we could have just shot him." Maddie muttered, following him in.

"And then what? Used his body as a doorstop? Have I mentioned we're out of plastic drop cloths?" Mike said. "I'm really going to have to start keeping an eye on your Netflix queue. I'm not sure if this new, scary version of you is due to you being in Mama Bear mode or to watching too many episodes of
The Sopranos
."

Maddie rolled her eyes. As they situated themselves in the room, the burglar's eyes opened and he tried to sit up. Much to Mike's surprise, the impromptu pantyhose and tie restraints actually held.

Maddie hefted her frying pan, and Mike jumped into a karate pose.

The burglar looked around, his eyes open but empty. Then he shouted "Plasma TV!" and collapsed back into sleep, snoring loud enough to shake the prints Mike and Maddie had hanging on the walls.

CHAPTER EIGHT

While all this drama was going on with Mike and Maddie, there was more trouble brewing across town. Mike's Granny Ruby, the born-again Wiccan, had decided to fly into Chicago with her new, sexy, young husband, Seth. They had just gotten back from their honeymoon, and they wanted to surprise Mike and Maddie and see the baby. Either she didn't hear about Mike's fake MRSA, she didn't care, or she knew Mike was full of crap. Given the way that woman could read palms, option three would be a safe bet.

So, anyway, there they were, at O'Hare airport. To really imagine what that meant, you have to understand that whenever Granny Ruby went anywhere, it was always a production. To begin with, she looked like a traveling Ren Faire in her gown and cloak and her eye-catching, multi-layered, Celtic-themed jewelry. She also had a walking staff and a holstered, ceremonial athame, (made of bone and obsidian), which she somehow managed to get past all the security checkpoints. Whenever anyone asked how she did it, she winked and said she had put a spell of invisibility on it. Whether that was true or not, it had never been confiscated, so maybe there was something to her claims of spellcrafting magic.

But the flashiest items of all were the custom-made, ruby-sequined orthotic shoes that kept Ruby's feet comfy and supported in all their blinged-out glory. And it turned out her new husband shared her fashion sense -- although he preferred Birkenstocks.

Granny Ruby complained that whenever she flew anywhere, the other passengers would make a wide berth around her, and security always pulled her out for a full-body search. And she didn't understand why. As far as she was concerned, it was a blatant case of religious discrimination. But as far as the rest of the world went, it was just common sense. She was lucky she had never gotten strip-searched. Although, knowing Granny Ruby's libido, (which she attributed to amino acid supplements), she'd probably enjoy it.

As they disembarked from the plane, Ruby lit up a European cigarette while Seth used a fan made of owl feathers to fan the smoke at the exterior of the plane and the interior of the connecting tube.

Ruby reached up to the sky, turning her face upward, and started chanting. "We thank you, spirits of the air, for guiding this plane safely here. May its future voyages be as safe and uneventful as this one was."

Seth sang random musical notes and continued waving the smoke at the ceiling until Ruby dropped her hands, her benediction done.

Just then, a stewardess rushed out of the plane, livid. "You need to put that out. Now. This is a non-smoking area."

"You're preaching to the choir," Ruby cackled, as she handed the cigarette to Seth. "Neither of us smokes. Filthy habit."

Seth pinched off the lit end and stored the remainder in a plastic baggie.

"Then what do you call that?" The stewardess snapped, pointing at the baggie.

"A religious ceremony," Ruby snapped back. "And you're welcome."

Ruby nodded at Seth, and he pulled out his wallet and flashed their ministerial credentials at the stewardess.

As they walked away, the stewardess shook her head and muttered, "Whackos."

Ruby turned, and without breaking stride, gave her the finger.

Meanwhile, back in Chicago, Maddie's parents, Taki and Irini, had gone to Zeke's Tavern, to have dinner with baby Sophie. Calling it a tavern was a bit of a misnomer. It was actually a restaurant built around an old, wooden, fully stocked bar and pool hall that used to be the tavern, but Zeke wasn't about to rename it. It started out life as a tavern and it would die as a tavern.

Taki, Maddie's dad, was a rotund personification of Zorba the Greek. Here was a guy who loved life and everyone in it. Laid back and fun to be around, unless you pissed him off. He could yell with the best of them. Irini, on the other hand, was part Greek and part yenta. She was a small, energetic, busybody who lived to butt into everyone's life and tell them what to do and who to do it with, all while spreading liberal amounts of guilt.

Irini was definitely the boss in any scenario she found herself in. Mike should have realized he was in trouble when, during the wedding ceremony, Irini corrected the priest and started instructing Mike and Maddie where to stand and what to do next. I can't imagine what's going to happen at the baby's christening.

Anyway, Taki and Irini were sitting at a table in the restaurant, with Sophie in her baby carrier, tucked on the far side of Irini, to discourage random strangers from coming by and cooing over or touching the baby, and spreading their germs. Or heaven forbid, snatching her and running out into the cold.

Rio, Maddie's best friend, could see them from her seat at the bar, but they hadn't seen her yet. Which was just the way she liked it.

Rio watched as Irini flipped through the Real Estate section of the Sunday paper, pen in hand.

"You're not helping," Irini snapped at Taki.

"Why? Because I won't butt into their lives?" Taki drank his beer and looked around.

Rio ducked her head down over her drink, so he wouldn't notice her.

"Who's butting? I'm not butting. Is it a crime to want my granddaughter to grow up in a safe place?"

"Chicago is a safe place."

"Not safe enough. She has an El-stop as her backyard. You want her playing on the tracks, instead of climbing a tree? Breathing in exhaust fumes from all the cars on Clark Street instead of sitting in a tire swing?"

Taki sighed and grabbed the paper and pen from Irini. He quickly scanned it, marked an entry and shoved the paper back to her. "There. Are you happy?"

"Charming fixer-upper in ethnically diverse neighborhood?! Are you trying to kill me?"

"What?! You wanted me to pick a house, I picked a house."

"In an ethnically diverse neighborhood? Do you know what that means?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"It means get used to being mugged."

"What are you talking about? Look out the window," Taki said, gesturing. "Every neighborhood in Chicago is ethnically diverse."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. And don't even get me started on
charming fixer-upper
." She shot him a dirty look and went back to reading the paper. "Besides, we want them to move closer to us, not stay in Chicago."

"You know what people are making into homes now? Factories. What about the old abandoned brewery in our neighborhood? We can put a down-payment on it for the kids."

Irini stared at him, opening and closing her mouth a few times before words finally came out. "You've finally lost your mind. I ever hear you say something like that again, I'll call a judge and put you in a home. A
factory.
Do you know what kind of chemicals they use in factories?"

Just then, the overworked, blonde waitress came by with a tray and set three steak dinners down.

"What's this?" Irini snapped. "We didn't order this."

"Oh, yes we did," Taki chortled, pouring steak sauce on his T-bone.

"No, we didn't. Take it back."

"He's already eating it." The waitress said. "The policy is, you eat it, you buy it."

"Why would we order a T-Bone for a baby?!"

"How am I supposed to know? My job is to serve it. Not to figure out why you're unfit parents. You don't want it? I'll take it back. But he's still paying for his." She grabbed two of the plates and hustled off.

"I ordered a Caesar salad!" Irini hollered after her, but the waitress waived her off.

Irini turned to Taki. "Why do we even come here?" she snapped. "Don't you eat that. It's not good for your cholesterol."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Taki said, savoring his bite of steak. "My cholesterol's fine."

Just then Nick walked in and sidled up to the bar, next to Rio. The two of them had dated for a bit, but it wasn't meant to be. Mainly because she never could get all that interested in his dangly bits. But, on the positive side, he was the date who finally pushed her out of the closet.

"How ya doin', sexy?" He was always kind of smarmy, now he was smarmy and balding. But he never let that get in his way. He was about ninety-percent sure he was a player, even if the rest of the world was only ten-percent sure.

Rio rolled her eyes at him.

"Don't get your combat boots in a twist. I'm talking to Blondie there." He said, winking at the blonde waitress.

That definitely got her attention. She walked over and slammed the unwanted steak dinners down in front of them. "You want steak for dinner? You gotta pay for them, but they come with a free beer."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Rio managed to spurt out.

"Good." She pulled two drafts, slapped the check down in front of them, and stalked off.

"My God, that woman is a force of nature." Nick whistled, appreciatively. "I would totally do her."

Rio laughed. "You're a guy. You'd do the lamp post, if it was dressed in a French maid's outfit."

"Probably," Nick nodded in agreement. "Don't tell me you'd pass up the opportunity to tap that?"

Rio shrugged. "I like to think I'm a bit more discriminating."

Nick hooted with laughter, almost choking on a piece of steak. "Tell me that again, when she's naked and bent over in front of you. The libido is a harsh taskmaster, my friend."

Rio sipped her beer to hide a smile. "You'd make a lousy boyfriend. No wonder you're single."

Nick grinned at her. "I'm not single. I'm just waiting for you to realize we're perfect for each other. We're two halves of a three-way, looking for completion."

Rio snorted. "Forget about it. I don't revisit old stomping grounds. Especially once the earth's been salted."

But Nick just laughed and took it in stride.

One thing Rio had always liked about Nick, was that he was always looking for the humor in everything. Not many men could handle their girlfriend telling them, after they have sex for the first time, that she's decided she's a lesbian. But Nick took it in stride. If anything, he started seeing opportunities for how it could benefit him. And actually, if Rio was going to hook up with a guy to go trolling for a chick for a three-way, Nick wasn't a bad choice. The problem was, he knew it.

"Shut up and eat your steak," Rio said, hiding a grin.

CHAPTER NINE

Back at Mike and Maddie's place, Maddie was frantically calling the cops again.

"I can't believe you got rid of the landline," she snapped at Mike.

"Cops are supposed to be reachable on cell phones." Mike said.

As Mike started washing veggies for the veggie tray, Maddie gave up on getting through to 9-1-1 and flipped through the phone book, looking for the non-emergency number. Maybe she'd have better luck with that.

"Finally!" she muttered. The phone was ringing and the
call again later
message wasn't picking up. Maybe she'd get to talk to a real, live person this time.

"What's the deal with beets? Can you actually eat them raw?" Mike asked. "Or do they need to be pickled? And what are you supposed to do with beet greens? Can you use them for anything? Or are they just decorative?"

"Quit yammering" Maddie said. "I think the call's going to go through."

"Seriously?! Sweet! I need to get this on camera." Mike rushed out of the kitchen. Then he popped his head back in. "Stall until I get back."

Not that she needed to. It took Maddie so long to get through the automated answering system, Mike was back with his Flip before she was able to get a live person on the other end of the line.