One Shot @ Retirement: A Macy Cooper Mystery, page 7
“A spotter works with a sniper. He observes and locates targets, estimates atmospheric conditions, and basically keeps the area secure so a sniper can fire a shot.”
“You seem to know a lot about snipers.”
“I had a friend who was a sniper.”
“Had?”
“He was killed in Iraq.”
“Oh Macy, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. He was doing what he loved best, protecting our forces.”
Allison looked a bit perplexed. “How does someone firing a single shot protect the military? I would think it would be better to have a machine gun or something that could take out a whole bunch of the bad guys at once.”
“It’s good to have both, but snipers instill fear in the enemy plus their weapons are very precise. With a machine gun, you shoot a spray of bullets that may or may not hit the enemy. A sniper on the other hand, doesn’t shoot unless he has a fixed target and when he does, the enemy doesn’t have a chance. It’s quite intimidating.” Not wanting to raise any more questions, Macy returned to the topic of Pete. “So, Pete and your dad were best friends?”
“Yep! They did everything together, grew up, went in the military, and….” Allison looked away momentarily and sniffled. A tear ran down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away. “And they died together.”
“Pete was with your dad when his vehicle was blown up?”
Allison nodded. “Yeah, pretty ironic, isn’t it?”
The rest of the afternoon was spent making a list of the items in each room on the first floor. It was a tedious task and seemed to take forever, but they were able to complete it by early evening.
“We still need to do the gun cabinet and the upstairs.”
“Let’s do that tomorrow,” Allison pleaded. “You know what’s in the gun cabinet and as for upstairs, I think the rooms are pretty empty anyway. Grammy had most of the stuff moved down here except what’s in Dad’s bedroom. She hated going up those stairs.”
“Do you know if she ever did go up them?” Macy asked.
“She said she didn’t ‘cause she was afraid of falling, but she must have according to the police. Why I don’t know. Not much is left there.”
Macy remembered her quick surveillance of the second-floor rooms, finding nothing of value, but they would check more closely the next day.
“I think we should call it a day then.”
The evening was spent fixing popcorn and reminiscing. Macy and Allison sat on the floor in the living room in their pajamas with throws wrapped around them. Allison did most of the talking and Macy enjoyed listening to the ramblings of a teenager. It had been sometime since she had been around someone so young, and it brought back memories of slumber parties with her friends and sisters. Oh, to be young again….
“Macy, why did you retire?”
“Retire? I guess I wanted to settle down and live a quiet normal life.”
“You don’t seem to be the type who could settle down. You’re, well, you seem so worldly.”
Macy laughed. “I don’t seem worldly at all! I’m quiet, unassuming, and just plain dull.”
“I don’t think you’re dull! You’re fun and you know so much about things, about people and life.”
“Where have you been these last few days? What fun have we had?”
“I guess we haven’t had fun in the real sense of the word, but I’ve enjoyed being with you. You listen to me… and I’m not used to having an adult do that.” Allison, her gaze dropping, began fooling with a loose string on her pajamas.
“I’m sure your mother listens to you, even though it may not seem like it at the time.”
“She does, sort of. I like doing things with her but anymore she’s always busy. She works so hard trying to get ahead. I wish she would marry again, but she says one marriage per lifetime was enough for any sane woman.” Allison hesitated and then asked, “Have you ever been married?”
“Once, when I was young, but we had separate careers and we each wanted to pursue them.”
“That’s too bad. What did you do before you were a teacher?”
Macy sat quietly. She hated lying to Allison. “What makes you think I did something before?”
“You are not the teacher type. Believe me, after twelve years in school I know how teachers act and you’re not like any I’ve ever known! Of course, you’re always correcting my bad language.” Allison leaned back against the sofa, briefly staring off into the distance. A small grin crossed her face. “I see you more as a traveler, maybe a diplomat or a journalist.” Allison stared at Macy, making her uncomfortable. Then she whispered, “No, I see you as a spy… Bond, Jane Bond.”
Macy laughed and stared at her young houseguest. She knew she was playing with her, but it unnerved her as to how close she was. She finally smiled at Allison, chortling, “If I’m a spy, then you’re a Girl Scout!”
Allison laughed loudly and threw a few kernels of popcorn at Macy who threw some back. Before long both were engaged in a huge popcorn battle.
It was nearly noon when they arrived at Esther’s home, having stayed up half the night talking. The morning had been spent cleaning popcorn out of seat cushions and from under furniture.
“Let’s go through the gun cabinet first,” Macy suggested.
“I’ve got pencil and paper in hand. Next time I come, I’m bringing my computer. It would’ve been a lot easier typing everything in.”
Allison sat on the floor in the laundry room while Macy opened the gun cabinet. She took out each gun, first the handguns and then the rifles, examining each and telling Allison what to write down.
“How do you know so much about guns?”
Macy put each gun back into its slot. The last gun she removed was the Civil War musket. “My father taught me to shoot when I was young. There was a skeet range close by and we would go there and practice. Then when I was in college, I took a course on battles and armaments in U.S. history, so I learned about the history of weapons. It’s really quite interesting.” She looked at the gun she was holding and stooped down to show it to Allison. “Look at this,” she said, turning it over and treating it as if it were made of porcelain. “This is an 1863 Richmond rifled musket, a 58-caliber percussion muzzleloader and it’s in near perfect condition. This beauty is worth probably ten to fifteen thousand dollars.”
Allison gulped and sat up in astonishment, “Really? That much?”
Macy smiled. “You sure you don’t want to keep it?”
“I’m sure. I want you to have it. But I would prefer you didn’t sell it, at least not for a while.”
“I promise to keep it always.”
“Was it used in the Civil War?”
“I don’t think it saw much action as it’s in pristine condition. It would have had a bayonet with it as well.”
“Check the drawer. Maybe it’s in there.”
Macy took the key out of the door and unlocked the drawer at the bottom of the cabinet. Allison crawled over to see the contents. Macy pulled out the bayonet lying on top of numerous boxes of ammunition. “You were right!”
But Allison was more concerned with the remaining contents of the drawer, boxes upon boxes of ammunition. “Why so many bullets?” she asked. “It looks as if someone was preparing for battle.”
“I have no idea, but it looks like several boxes are missing.” She pointed to a space in the middle where something had once been stored. She couldn’t help but wonder if the cartridges were for the missing sniper rifle.
Chapter Seventeen
Macy stared at the swirling pattern the melted marshmallows made in her hot chocolate as she stirred it with a spoon. Her mind wandered a lot these days since Allison returned to North Carolina.
“What’s wrong with you?” Gloria asked, finally sitting down opposite her.
Macy looked around Gloria’s kitchen, having momentarily forgotten where she was. “Huh?” she replied. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was thinking about how quiet the house is now that Allison’s gone home.”
“What I wouldn’t give for some peace and quiet,” Gloria exclaimed, thrusting her hands in the air. Becoming more serious she patted Macy’s hand. “You need something to keep you busy.”
Macy smiled, “I guess I do. Do you have anything in mind?”
“How are you going to decorate for Christmas?”
At that moment, Jeremy and Marty brought in two boxes labeled Lights. “Where do you want these, Mom?” Jeremy asked.
“Put them down there,” she said, pointing to a space in front of a small china cabinet. “We’ll have to go through them and make sure they still work.”
“You want us to do it now?”
“No, just finish bringing in the rest of the boxes. Put the tree decorations in the den.” Turning back towards Macy, Gloria continued, “Now then, where were we… oh yeah, we were talking about decorating your house for Christmas.”
“I really hadn’t planned on decorating. I’ll probably be going to the Poconos for Christmas.”
“Skiing?” Gloria asked, her eyes widening.
Macy nodded. “I usually go every year, it’s sort of a tradition.” Macy smiled inwardly, knowing she’d be with Jack.
“You should still have a tree,” Gloria remarked as if not having a tree was paramount to not celebrating at all.
“I suppose. I guess I’ll have to buy some ornaments.”
“Maybe the Smiths left some. Have you looked?”
“They left a few pieces of furniture in the basement and the garage only has gardening equipment.”
“What about the attic?”
“Attic? What attic?”
“You silly goose, you didn’t know you had an attic? It’s hard to tell what’s up there.”
Macy shook her head. “There’re no stairs so how could there be an attic?”
“Haven’t you ever owned a home?” Gloria asked.
“Not really. I’ve rented most of my life.” And lived in hotels during missions abroad, she thought.
“Most houses, especially these old ones, have attics. There’s probably a pull-down staircase somewhere on your second floor.”
“I’ve not seen one.”
“Have you checked the closets?”
“No, but I will,” Macy shrugged, wondering how she couldn’t know something so simple.
Gloria patted Macy’s arm. “It’s okay, honey.”
“I must be getting old,” Macy mumbled. But it did disturb her. How could someone with her observation skills miss that?
“Oh, don’t worry about it. If there’s nothing up there, then we’ll just have to go shopping!” Gloria giggled and a small snort emerged from the back of her throat. She immediately put her hand in front of her mouth. “Oops!”
“All I need is a wreath, a tree, and some decorations.”
“What about lights? Most every house on this street has outdoor lights. We’re probably one of the prettiest streets in the town at this time of year. Of course, it also brings increased traffic with people wanting to drive by, but we’re happy to help make their holiday more joyful.”
Great, more traffic, Macy thought.
The boys brought in several boxes and Gloria began examining them, pulling out one or two items, turning them over in her hands and gently returning them to the box. “Take these two back to the attic and put the ones marked outdoor decor on the front porch.” For the next fifteen minutes Gloria became a traffic cop pointing the boys in multiple directions.
Macy was left alone with her thoughts and her mind wandered to memories of outdoor lights. As a ten-year-old she had won her first medal for sharpshooting at the skeet range. She had been so proud of the large silver medallion carved with a shooter aiming a shotgun at a clay target. She smiled remembering that particular Christmas, her sister Breanna challenging her to prove she was as good a shot as everyone said. To show her, she and Breanna snuck out one night with her Daisy Red Ryder. One could say it was her first sniper attack. She remembered she and her sister lying in a deep patch of snow overlooking one of the empty resort cabins across the unpaved road, its Christmas lights all aglow. Their father had put up the lights the day before for guests who would be arriving the following week.
“There,” Breanna pointed. “See if you can hit one of those lights.”
Macy loaded the gun with BBs, cocked it, aimed at the red bulb on the corner of the porch, and fired. “Pop,” came the sound as she hit the target and the light exploded.
“Lucky shot,” Breanna commented somewhat disparaged. “I bet you can’t do it again!”
Cocking the gun, she took aim. “Pop,” a second sound, then ‘pop, pop, pop’ and more bulbs exploding as she continued to cock and shoot. Finally, out of BBs, they both sat up.
“Well, by my count you hit 86 out of a 100. Not bad. I guess you earned that award after all!” she said, slapping Macy on the back.
Macy was pleased with her performance but more importantly she was happy her sister acknowledged it. All was well until the next day when their father discovered her feat. He was furious and for the first time in her life she received a spanking. It didn’t hurt her physically, but she had disappointed her father and that saddened her terribly. He also took away her medal and announced she was never to compete again.
Gloria re-entered the kitchen and filled each of their mugs with more hot chocolate from a pot on the stove. “Are you okay?”
Macy nodded. “Thinking about when I was a kid.”
“I loved Christmas as a child,” Gloria mused, seemingly reflecting back to wonder-filled times. “So, are you going to put up lights?”
“Not this year, maybe next. I’ll just enjoy yours.”
That night Macy sat on the rocking chair on her front porch holding a cup of hot tea, a heavy quilt draped around her. She smiled at the Christmas lights across from her, lining the porch and eaves of Gloria’s home. There must have been hundreds of them, maybe even thousands and it was indeed, truly beautiful. But for some reason Macy felt an urge she hadn’t had in a long time.
Reminiscing back to her childhood, she continued her thoughts from earlier in the day. She remembered the Christmas following her attack on the cabin lights, how she made her way again to another unsuspecting cabin. She hit 94 out of 100 that year. And once more she received another spanking, but worse than that her father took her BB gun away. She remembered Breanna whispering to her afterwards. “You should have a perfect score next year,” and walked off giggling leaving Macy to stand alone, for this time she could not sit.
The following year, Macy borrowed a friend’s rifle and made her way to another resort on the other side of the lake. She had promised her father she would never attack the lights of any of ‘his’ cabins again so she was forced to go elsewhere. Breanna had said she would cover for her, and she did. However, only one cabin sported lights and they were tiny white bulbs, not like the larger ones in past years. Macy checked to make sure no one was in the cabin and took her position across from it. She fired at a tiny light. It made no popping sound, but it went out. She took aim again and again, each light going out. Finally, the last one was hit. She sat back and smiled, proud of her new score.
The next day her father came to her and asked if she had been over to the Grayson’s resort. Breanna had suggested a copycat assassin, but their father just stared at Macy with cold dark eyes. She knew she couldn’t lie. “Yes sir.”
“How many did you hit?” he asked sternly, his arms folded across his chest.
“150 out of 150,” came the reply.
“Then you’re done with this… this quest of yours? No more lights, ever?” he demanded.
“Yes sir,” she replied quietly. He turned and walked away.
What memories! Macy continued to stare at the lights across the street knowing she’d kept the promise she had made many years ago. She looked upwards and whispered, “Love you, Pop!” And then she grinned and murmured, “Oh, to have a BB gun again.”
Chapter Eighteen
Macy had been invited to Gloria’s Christmas party, her first outing with the neighbors as a group. She had felt comfortable talking to them individually on her walks or the few times she’d run into someone at the grocery store or bank. But attending a get-together and chatting nonchalantly for more than a few minutes was a bit unnerving. She examined this feeling carefully, knowing full well that on any number of her missions she had had to hobnob with dignitaries as well as locals and converse. So why was this different? Perhaps she was losing her mojo, or was it age? Then she realized she needed more practice talking to normal people.
Knowing she would be faced with questions on her background, work, and life in general, Macy practiced her speech on multiple subjects besides the normal “How do you like Landen?” or “Isn’t this weather crazy?” Each time she passed a mirror or while she cleaned, she would stop and give an answer to some random question. She figured that would help with the spontaneity.
Then the party came. Macy had baked one of her favorite Christmas desserts and presented it to Gloria as she arrived.
“Oh, Macy, you didn’t have to do that,” Gloria said as she opened the Tupperware container. “Yum, they look delicious! What are they?”
“Medove rezy,” Macy smiled.
“May doe what?”
Macy laughed. “They’re honey cake slices.”
“Oh, of course. From France?”
“Slovakia.”
“Leave it to you to come up with something different. Come on in and say hi to everyone. I’ll put these on the table with the other desserts.” Gloria turned and walked towards the dining room.
Macy entered the living room, which was lavishly decorated in reds, golds and greens with garland and holly draped everywhere. In the corner was a huge overly decorated Christmas tree with an assortment of ornaments, some old, some new and many handmade, probably by Jeremy and Marty. Holiday music played softly in the background.
Several neighbors had arrived and once she had greeted everyone, had a few drinks, Macy began to relax. Most of the people carried the conversation and didn’t really question her on any particular topic. All they wanted was to have a good time and enjoy the ambiance, which was a great relief for Macy.
