Page 112 of Statler

Statler and Mason stood in companionable silence for a long time, simply soaking in the vast skies above; relishing in the night sounds of crickets, peepers, and the occasional cry of something larger; perhaps a fisher cat.

Mason finally called it.

“We should be getting back.”

Statler blinked, realizing his mind had been far, far away, in a distant future that he now wanted very badly. He looked at his watch.

“Shit.” He cursed. How could he have lost track of the time? If Eliza had turned around to come back when they’d last spoken, she was either in town already, or nearly here.

“I need to see if she’s contacted anyone on my crew.”

Because she sure as shit hadn’t reached out to him, knowing he’d be beside himself if she’d gone against his pointed suggestion that she stay away.

They turned as one and did a quick jog-walk back toward the cottages.

But before they could turn the final corner, they both—as one—stopped dead.

“Did you hear that?” Statler whispered.

A twig had snapped, off to their right.

“You bet I did,” Mason growled low in his throat. “Someone’s watching us.”

Slowly and simultaneously, they drew their guns, then using only head-signals, Mason began whistling while moving noisily on down the road a few yards. Statler, at the same time, looped back around to approach their hidden tango from the rear.

When he saw the silhouette of someone hunkering between two trees, he raised his gun and didn’t hesitate. “Hands up. Don’t move,” he barked.

Mason, who’d looped around, was already on the other side of their perp in the same stance, almost daring the person to run.

“Well, damn,” muttered a voice Statler hadn’t been expecting.

Female!

“Wha…? Who…?” Stat was at a loss.

It wasn’t Eliza, and it wasn’t any of their crew.

“I’m Granny Edith.”

The woman stepped out from the shadows where the moonlight hadn’t reached, and she didn’t look happy. “Dammit, young man, I’m really hoping that you’re Eliza’s Statler, or at least one of that crew. I’d hate to have run from that despicable Jeremy, only to land in the hands of his slimy cohorts.”

Statler heaved a huge sigh of relief, loving that she considered him Eliza’s. He immediately holstered his gun, and in a moment of spontaneity, he moved forward with open arms.

“I am Statler,” he said.

He gave Granny a warm hug, which she returned with vigor, wrapping him in a strong scent which he discerned to be cooking spices and vanilla.

“Thank God you’re here,” he stated. “How⁠—?”

“I walked,” she interrupted. “But it took me a damned long time. First, my hips aren’t what they used to be,” she complained, “and second, those arseholes are looking for me, so I had to stay hidden while I walked.”

“You managed to escape Jeremy?” Statler asked, amazed, because it looked like a stiff wind might blow the tiny woman away.

“Phht.” She waved a hand around dismissively, and Statler could see the look of disgust on her face. “That boy. Short on brains. Which is exactly why he’s William Flazer’s right hand flunky. Jeremy will do anything that man says without question, which tonight, meant coming to get me.” She gazed up at Statler with shrewd eyes.

“I was just finishing up cleaning the kitchen when I heard a car door, and when I looked out and saw Jeremy, I knew the shit had hit the fan, so I hid. I’m assuming Flazer somehow found out that Eliza has dirt on him, and wanted to use me as leverage to get her out of hiding, but I was too sharp for him.” Granny cackled. “My Bernard, God rest his soul, was a bit paranoid in his later years, and he devised a secret room under the stairs in our house.”

Statler and Mason had to grin at that.