Joyce McDonald Hoskins

What could be better in this stressful world than to be taken away to a tranquil secure place? A quiet place, with a chief-of-police who is dedicated to keeping the peace. Life moves a little slower, the good people are a little better, and the bad ones don’t last long.

            Littleton Beach, Florida is a compilation of the best parts of all small-towns. It is not without its problems, but Chief Jack Sumner is a problem solver, except when it comes to keeping his ex-wife under control.

            The Adventure of Irene Sumner is unfolded in a fresh, episodic style. Stories and sub-stories mingle into exciting, clean fun.

            The Kiss is an excerpt from:  

     The Adventures of Irene Sumner

She started to open her mouth.

            “Sh. Hush.” Jack placed two fingers gently on her lips. “Sh. Listen to me. Give me a couple of minutes. I’ve got something important to say. Let me say it. Please.”

            Irene brushed his hand away from her face and nodded.

            “I’ve been wondering if, maybe, you said ‘Shut up, Jack’ half as much as you do, and I teased you half as much as I do, and if I promised to not sing Stormy Weather when your eyes sparkle, and we tried to have spirited conversations instead of horrendous fights, and if I promised you could have all the girl time you need, if maybe you would marry me, or something?”

            “You’re proposing to me?”

            “Since we’re both too old fashioned for the, or something, I guess I am. I’d blush every time the kids came over if we weren’t married.” Jack took a deep breath. “Don’t answer now. I’m just asking you to think about it.” Jack wet his lips and swallowed hard. “While you’re thinking, think about this: If Roger only had half of your heart, where was the other half?”

            “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

            “Don’t say anything.”  Jack shifted his weight and looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

            Irene stood in stunned silence.

            Jack took her hands. “Could you, maybe, put your arms around my neck and stand on your tiptoes?”

            She did as he asked. About halfway through the kiss, she relaxed and let her body melt into his. When he released her, he took her chin in his hand and caressed it. “And if we shouldn’t be able to do any of those things, I’m still asking.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, let go of her chin, placed his cap on his head, and turned to go. He paused with his hand on the door knob and turned his head back to her. “You think on it, Rennie. We’re sticking together until this thing is over. After that, we’ll see.”

            Irene stood, her mouth slightly open, stunned, until the phone rang. Landline. Probably a telemarketer. She picked up anyhow. A man’s voice said, “Look out the window.” She looked out. Jack stood between the two men from the campgrounds. One of them lifted a jacket to show her there was a gun aimed at Jack.

            She could hear her heart beating. Irene Sumner, if you ever needed a clear head, this is it. You will not panic. She looked through the bathroom doorway and saw Jack’s service revolver hanging on the outside of the shower door. For the first time ever, he made a mistake. She covered her mouth with her hand. Don’t scream.

            “Now, Ms. Sumner, you listen real good. If you call the police, he’s a dead man. Dead.”

            Irene tried to swallow, but her mouth was completely dry. “I’m listening.”

            “All we want is the bag of mail. That’s all. We’ll let him go, if you bring it to us. You’re not to go through it. You’re not to take anything out.”

            “I understand.” She watched them get into the car, trying her best to pay attention to every detail. She couldn’t see the plates when they pulled out.

            “You might as well tell me right now if you’re gonna call the police.”

            “Tell me where to bring the bag of mail.”

            “Call you back. Stay by the phone.”

            She paced the floor. Forced herself to sip some water. If Jack lives through this, he will kill me if I don’t call the police. It’s what he always told me to do if anything like this happened. She could hear the lecture. She’d heard her father give her mother the same one. Always, always call the police. Never do what they tell you to do. “Shut up, Jack,” she told the voice in her head. “What would you do? What would you do if they had me?”

            She suddenly remembered going to Sally Lynn’s church and the preacher’s message about divine intervention. Lord, I know I’m not a very good Christian, but if there is such a thing as ‘the edge’, could I have it? Tell me what to do.

            The phone rang. “Listen up.”

            “I’m listening.”

            “Bring the mail to the Holiday Inn.”

            “Which one?”

            “The only one there is. Room 114. There’s a gun pointed at his head. Anything goes wrong—he’s dead.”

            “Gotcha. Let me talk to Jack. I’ll not do it until I hear his voice.”

            There was a moment of silence, and then she heard. “You know what to do Irene, do it. Call the police.”

            “Yes, dear.”

            The phone went dead.

            “She’s bringing you the mail. She’s never done what I told her to do. Ever. I don’t reckon she’ll start now. She’s bringing it.” Damn. Lord, if I live through this, will you forgive me for hitting a woman?

            “Cripes, the Chief of Police. We’d better pull this off or we’re dead men.” Paul paced the floor while Barclay held the gun on Jack.           

            “We didn’t know until he came out in uniform,” Barclay said.

            “Hey, where’s your gun? Leave it on the floor by the bed when you took a tumble with the ex? That’ll make you forgetful.” Paul laughed and then stopped. “Hey, does that dame have your gun?”

            “We have to check them in nowadays when we go on vacation. Get them back when we report back for duty,” Jack lied.

            “She know how to use it?” Barclay asked.

            “Naw. She hates guns.”

            “He’s tellin’ the truth. Can you picture that snooty New Englander with a gun?” Paul said.

            Lord, I know that was a dumb prayer I prayed before, and I know you don’t hear too much from me. This is a foxhole prayer if there ever was one, but, please, somehow, let her get out of this okay. Don’t leave Marcy and the boys without both of us. Um. Thanks.

A strange calmness came over Irene. Must be, ‘the edge’—or divine intervention—or maybe both. She put the brown bag in the trunk, patted Jack’s service revolver, and got in the car. It had taken a while to adjust the belt and holster just right for her. She thought about Jack teaching her to use it. He had insisted and was a relentless teacher. “How many times do I have to kill the cardboard man before you will let me stop?” He’d paid no attention to her tears and made her keep at it. I got good, but I hated him a little for making me do it.

            He went to the second location. Why? He always instructed me to never go to a second location. He wanted to lead them away from me, that’s why. She put her blinker light on. Criminals always make mistakes. My father said that. Hope it’s true . As she pulled into the Holiday Inn parking lot, she called and asked for room 114.

            “I’m in the parking lot. Going to the ladies’ room, and then I’ll be there. No. I cannot hold it. I’d attract attention if I peed on the floor.” She squared her shoulders feeling rather proud of herself.

            She went into a stall and called Jack’s assistant Chief of Police, Dave. She filled him in, told him her plan, said there was no sense wasting time trying to talk her out of it, took the mail and went to 114 and lightly knocked. I’ve detached into a calm, coolness.

            Paul let her in. Her eyes quickly found Jack. She bent over and set the bag on the floor. She had a cigarette in her mouth and a lighter in her hand. “Damn, Jack, you made me start smoking again.” She spoke around the cigarette as she lit it, and then quickly let it fall out of her mouth and into the bag. She gave the bag a hard kick and screamed. “Bomb! I’m taking us all out!”

            Firecrackers began banging and popping. Barclay fired the gun he was holding on Jack. The bullet grazed Jack’s left arm taking a piece of flesh before it lodged in the wall. Jack was still able to jump up and sucker punch Barclay with his right. Irene had drawn, fired, and killed Paul before he could flinch. The fireworks continued to pop and bang.

            Jack kicked Barclay’s gun to the other side of the room. Irene had her gun leveled on Barclay who was still on the floor. “Put some pressure on that wound, Jack, you’re bleeding.” She kept the gun on Barclay as she walked to the bathroom door, reached in, and tossed Jack a towel. “You didn’t forget your handcuffs in addition to your gun, did you? Could you manage to cuff that jerk so I can put this gun down and kiss you.” She went back to Paul’s body and tried to find a pulse in his neck. “I killed a man, Jack.”

            “You did what you had to do.” Jack had wrapped the towel tightly around his arm and was in the process of cuffing Barclay to the bottom of the bed. “I am so proud of you.” He got up and went to her, putting his one good arm around her. “You remember that, even if I smack you, I’m very proud of you.”

            “You forget,” she put both arms around his neck with the gun still in her hand, and stood on her tiptoes, “I know how to make you forget that thought.”

            Dave arrived followed by police officers, firemen, paramedics, reporters, and motel management. “What a mess. My God, Jack, it looks like a war zone, is there anything you won’t do to get her back?”

            Jack broke the kiss for an instant. “No, nothing.” Using his good right arm he hid their faces with his cap and continued the kiss.