Bicycle Shop Murder by Robert Burton Robinson (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📕
Greg heard a man shouting in the background, then a commotion. The phone went dead. He felt sick and helpless, like a kid who had just been spun on a merry-go-round at breakneck speed until he flew off. And the dizziness would not soon go away.
Greg wanted to call the police, but what would he tell them? And why did she call him instead of 911? He would call her back. No, he couldn't--he didn't have her number.
Then he felt something on his leg. The ice cream was melting beneath the chocolate shell, and it had collapsed under its own weight, and fallen onto the bed of napkins in his lap.
Still dazed, he sat for a full minute studying the ice cream as it dripped down the sides of the cone onto his hand and arm. Gradually the streams of white turned to pink, then to red-- running down Cynthia's face! A cold chill ripped through his body, and jolted him back to reality. He dropped the cone onto t
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“Hey, Tenorly—what are you doing here?”
Greg needed to swallow, but he didn’t want to gulp.
“Need a loan so you can buy some more of that Bach music, or whatever it is you teach?”
“Uh
yeah, something like that.”
Cynthia jumped in. “Mr. Tenorly is thinking about buying his own building.”
“Wow. There must be a lot of mommas making their kids take piano. Good for you, Teny.”
Had Troy Blockerman just accidentally misspoken his name? Or had he decided to coin a derogatory nickname for him. Teny or Tin-ee or ‘tin ear’: one who has a bad ear for music. Was Troy even smart enough to come up with that?
“Okay, I’ve gotta go demolish a house.” The grin on Troy’s face looked like that of a devious five-year-old about to put a frog down his sister’s dress. “I love my job! See you tonight, Honey. Later, Teny.”
And Troy was gone—without showing the least bit of concern about leaving Greg alone in the room with his beautiful wife. Greg didn’t know whether to feel relieved or insulted. As soon as Troy was out of the hallway, Greg closed the door.
“You shouldn’t have come here.” She seemed only mildly upset with Greg.
“I know, but I had to see you.” He had to see her because yesterday she had made him feel like a teenager, and he really wanted that feeling again.
“It’s okay, I was going to call you anyway. Troy is planning to bulldoze the rest of the jury into seeing things his way. Just like he rips a house apart or knocks over trees with his heavy equipment. He’s going to force the jury into a quick guilty verdict.”
“But we haven’t even heard all of the testimony yet.” For the moment, Greg was forgetting he was not supposed to discuss the trial with anyone. “He can’t do that.”
“Oh yes he can. He’s always bullying people to get his way. The last time we bought a new car he had the salesman in tears.”
Greg still remembered how Marvin Manly had unmercifully bullied him in high school. He should have just stood up to Marvin. Why had he let himself be pushed around like that?
Not now, he thought. He would go as a knight into battle against the fire-breathing dragon. A ‘fight to the death’ for the beautiful princess. And, of course, for justice.
“I promise you I will stand up to him. If there’s even a hint of reasonable doubt, I will fight Troy all the way. I will not back down.”
Cynthia smiled.
A warm, electric chill rippled through his body. Yes. He would prevail. Greg said goodbye and walked out of the bank without ever talking to Cynthia about the abuse.
Now he was on a quest.
*
A couple of hours later, a few blocks away, Arabeth Albertson was with her optometrist.
“According to our records, your last exam was 18 months ago,” Dr. Phillippi said.
“I couldn’t remember. But I knew I was seeing okay.”
“Your vision has not changed at all. You don’t need a stronger prescription. You’re close to 20/20 in both eyes with your current glasses.”
“I thought so. That lawyer tried to make the jury think I couldn’t see well enough to see what I saw. But I can. And I did.”
Moments after Arabeth Albertson drove away from the doctor’s office, Amy Cinderside, a temporary secretary, stepped out the back door for a smoke break and a phone call.
“Yeah, she just left
She passed the eye exam with flying colors
Now, when do I get the rest of my money?”
It was 10:30 pm and Arabeth Albertson was sitting in her favorite chair, watching the local news. More road construction in Longview. She instinctively glanced over at Arty to see his reaction to the story. But Arty wasn’t in his chair, and had not been for some six years. Still, she couldn’t break the habit, and didn’t really want to. She liked to pretend he was still there, grimacing over some political candidate’s remarks or complaining about taxes or the weather.
Arty and Arabeth had only one child, which had been their plan. Arty had wanted that child to be a boy. His heart was set on having a son named Andy. So, when Arabeth found out she was having a girl, she suggested they go with the name Andie. One look at little Andie erased all of Arty’s disappointment. The fact that Andie turned out to be somewhat of a tomboy came as no surprise to anyone, considering all the fishing and athletics Arty had thrust upon her. She always wanted please her daddy, and she always did.
By the time Andie went off to college, she had grown into a very attractive young lady. Arty could not have been prouder. They had tried to hide their devastation when, soon after college, Andie moved to Seattle with her new husband. It was always the highlight of their year when Andie and John and the kids visited at Christmas or during summer vacation. She prayed she would never get Alzheimer’s and lose her wonderful memories. There wouldn’t be much left to live for without them.
If the weatherman was right, tomorrow was going to be a sunny day. A nice day for a drive to the courthouse. A perfect day to make that smart-aleck lawyer look like a fool. She might have been old, but she knew what she had seen that night. And the killer was not going to get away with it!
Sam and Dorothy had been longtime friends to Arty and Arabeth. Andie had a ball working for Sam one summer, learning how to fix bikes. She was 14 years old, and didn’t mind getting her hands greasy.
Arabeth was a member of the Neighborhood Watch group on her street. It was an older neighborhood and most of the citizens were over 65. But if a criminal thought he could take advantage of them just because of their age—he would be sadly mistaken. Most of their homes were equipped with alarm systems. Many carried pepper spray and some even owned a gun. They had a slogan: If you’re not quite ready your Maker to meet, Then don’t come messing ‘round Mulberry Street.
Jay Leno started his monologue. She clicked the remote to turn off the TV. Jay Leno and David Letterman were both humorous occasionally, but she preferred reading a book after the news. She was near the end of a good Mary Higgins Clark. Couldn’t wait to find out what was going to happen to the hero.
But, where was Marie? She should have been back at Arabeth’s feet by now. Her old feline friend had a little passageway at the bottom of the kitchen door, so she could go in and out as she pleased. But the cat never stayed out for very long. Arabeth realized that Marie had gone out just as the news was starting at 10:00. Then she heard a faint ‘meow’, which seemed to be coming from the back yard.
Arabeth grabbed her cane and walked through the kitchen to the back door. She could hear Marie clearly now. She turned on the back light and looked out the kitchen door window. She couldn’t see anything but the steps and part of the sidewalk. Maybe she should consider replacing that 40-watt bulb with something brighter. And the window needed to be washed.
She opened the door and could barely see Marie in the distance, near a tree. The cat seemed to be trying to come to Arabeth, but for some reason, she couldn’t. Maybe she had gotten herself tangled in a fallen branch. Arabeth rarely ventured into the back yard at night—but this was an emergency.
She began to make her way very carefully down the stairs with her cane. But when she lifted her left foot to take the second step down, it tripped on something. What was she tripping on—she had studied the stairs for any obstructions before starting down. She tried to catch herself, but it was too late. Down, down she went, as in slow motion. She held her breath, knowing that the impact of the sidewalk below would be bone-crushing. It was.
She felt something pop in her lower back. Her right kneecap disintegrated into the concrete. Somehow, her head had avoided the pavement. A second later, she understood how. Her head had landed on her left arm, which felt like it was broken in several places.
Now what would she do? There was nobody to help her. The neighbors were likely already asleep.
She saw a shadow. Then there was a dark figure leaning over her. The lone source of light, the 40-watt bulb, was at his back. An angel of mercy. She attempted to reach out to him, as though she would have been able to stand up if she just had a helping hand.
But instead of taking her hand, he placed his hands on the sides of her head. What was he doing? Then he pulled her head up off the sidewalk—higher and higher, until she thought her neck would break. He slowly turned her head to the side and then slammed it down on the concrete as hard as he could.
She felt excruciating pain, and then
nothing.
It was Wednesday, 9:05 AM. Greg Tenorly and his eleven fellow jurors were in their places. He tried to forget Troy Blockerman was sitting three seats away. The prosecutor, the Assistant D.A., and the defendant and his attorney were at their respective tables. Everyone was waiting for Judge Ragsdale to appear.
A young woman walked hurriedly into the courtroom and whispered something to Angela Hammerly. By the time the woman made her departure, all eyes were on her.
The bailiff shouted, “All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Rayburn Ragsdale presiding.”
Unlike some judges, who rushed to the bench in an effort to minimize the showiness of their entrance, Judge Ragsdale moved slowly, almost majestically, to the bench.
No sooner than everyone sat down, Angela Hammerly said, “Your Honor, sidebar?”
The judge motioned for the two attorneys to come to the bench. Greg strained his above-average hearing, but only caught bits and pieces, which he could not assemble into anything coherent. Judge Ragsdale seemed very disturbed by whatever Ms. Hammerly was saying.
As the lawyers returned to their seats, the judge said, “The Court is saddened to have to inform you that Arabeth Albertson, who testified in this courtroom yesterday, was found dead this morning in her back yard. A neighbor discovered her body. Apparently she tripped and fell down the stairs sometime last night.”
Kyle Serpentine wasted no time. “Your Honor, with all due respect, in light of the fact that the prosecution’s only witness is not able to complete her testimony, and the fact that her testimony is the only evidence submitted by the District Attorney, I move that all charges against my client be dropped.”
Angela Hammerly was holding up a piece of paper. “Your Honor, we have the report from Mrs. Albertson’s eye exam yesterday. Her corrected vision was excellent. And we know that she was wearing her glasses on the night in question. So, she would have had no problem seeing the defendant.”
Judge Ragsdale said, “Mr. Serpentine, your motion is denied. The jury has already heard the bulk of Mrs. Albertson’s testimony, and—”
“—but, Your Honor, I wanted to do a demonstration for the court to check her vision in low light. Older people have more trouble seeing at night.”
“It’s not a good practice to interrupt me when I’m speaking, counselor. You would do well to remember that.”
“Yes,
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