CHAPTER 47

Ethyl Esther let out a screech that made Rude Crawlback’s eyes tear up and his shoulders jump to his ears. 

“What’s going on out there?” he yelled, thundering through the door. 

Ethyl Esther’s head was buried in her hands. When she looked up, her face was white and blotchy. Her eyes bugged out so far that Rude felt his stomach lurch. 

“It’s gone,” Ethyl Esther’s voice was so high pitched, it was almost inhuman. “My Grandma’s French whisk. The one she brought from Chicago. The one I use EVERY day!”  

She had ransacked the kitchen utility drawers, and once again utensils were scattered everywhere. She looked even more light-headed than usual. Flighty even. She had to grab onto a drawer handle and hold on for dear life.

“You’ve got to stop this nonsense.” Rude said, trying to even-out his voice. “it’s just got put somewhere.”

“No!” Ethyl Esther stamped her foot. “You know exactly who’s doing this.  At least twice a month he comes cruising through the back lot, right after two o’clock. He thinks because he doesn’t see my car, I’m not here. But I walk most mornings and I see him. I just slip out the back when he comes in the front.”

“Whoa, you’re talking about Hoolahan? Are you sure?”

“I have it on good authority.  Besides, that man’s been hounding me since three days after my Hubert died, and I’m sick of it. You’re the boss, it should be up to you to stop this, you’re just too lazy to do anything. But I’m ready to go out there and give him what for.”

“But Ethyl, the guy outweighs you by at least ninety pounds, and he’s almost seven inches taller. What’re you gonna do?” 

“I’m ready! I’ve been ready for a while” Ethyl Esther reached way under the lowest  kitchen shelf and pulled out a cloth sack with something weighty at the bottom. “I’ve never been this mad at anybody, I never wanted to be, but I want to make him hurt.” 

Rudolph Crawlback was not a violent man. In his opinion, confrontation was a waste of physical energy. Still, he had always been that boy without a mother and, though he would never admit it, Ethyl Esther filled an empty niche. Besides, business had been slow of late, and Rude knew that any kind of ruckus would bring people flocking to hear the details.

“Okay,” he said grabbing the largest cast iron skillet he could see. “Okay, let’s go teach him a lesion.”

 They had just worked themselves into a frenzy and were marching to Rude’s pick-up when Mort screeched into the parking lot.