Chapter 2: Haughty Home
The warm breeze ruffled Joe’s hair as he turned off the sidewalk, the bag of groceries swinging easily at his side. He’d walked up the driveway of his childhood home a thousand times, past the freshly mowed lawn decorated with blooming trees. The songs of vigorously mating sparrows muffled the distant screams of hurried emergency vehicle sirens. As the asphalt changed to a lily-lined red brick walkway beneath Joe’s feet, the aroma of hot buttermilk pancakes slipped through an open front window to greet him. His mouth could practically taste the maple syrup he was toting to pour thickly over them.
Despite the silverware clattering into place all around the table, the people in the kitchen heard Joe enter the living room through the front door.
“Come on in, son! There’s a stack in here with your name on it!”
Fenton Haughty’s cheerful attitude grew from his popular status in the community. After a long career as a detective for the Baytown police force, Fenton started a new one as a famously successful private investigator. His naturally smiley brown eyes charmed even the scoundrels he hunted. He profited especially well from cases involving his former police force brethren who inevitably cheated on their spouses. These wives paid him so generously in ways financial and sensual that Fenton often wondered with starry eyes why their husbands considered straying at all.
Their Sunday morning breakfast tradition typically bustled with family chatter about the latest happenings. Already seated along with Fenton were Joe’s younger brother Frank and the boys’ aunt Gertrude Hardy, a silver-haired wiry old fussbudget who lived there too. Meanwhile their mother Laura whisked her petite frame around the room masterfully, serving her expert cooking in delicious portions.
“Was anyone else at Pop’s today?” Laura asked.
“Yes,” Joe replied. The boys had a way of answering yes or no questions just so.
“I mean... other than Ma?” she added with playful mock exasperation.
“Yes,” Joe replied. Come to think of it, he hadn’t noticed whether or not Ma was working in the side office. It added a bit of uncertainty to tomorrow’s headline in the Baytown Gazette that pleased him.
“There must have been a whole herd of customers there to make you so late arriving to breakfast,” Gertrude said bitterly. She did think fondly of her nephews, which never fully surfaced from under the many layers of a life dreadfully lived. Even at her best she was a crusty, wretched human being.
“Oh Aunty, there was quite a body count all right,” Joe said with an affectionate nudge that made her reflexively flail to keep her chair from nearly toppling over. An ambulance raced down Main Street. Frank caught on to Joe’s drift, his deep brown eyes twinkling at the realization in tune with his rugged movie star handsomeness. He was an inch shorter than Joe, while carrying more muscle on his frame.
Although Frank approached studying more casually than his brother, both were excellent students. In fact, the boys admired their father so much that they had become amateur sleuths themselves. In recent weeks there had been a string of unsolved armed burglaries. Baytown police were hot on the case; the boys had found it to be mostly uninteresting until now.
“Pop’s amazing. His prices are so low it’s almost a steal,” Frank said off-handedly.
Joe pushed a forkful of pancake into his mouth without looking up. “Mmm-hm. Some customers more than others. Pretty alarming.”
“Hard to stay alive in business like that,” Frank returned.
“Things do change.”
“Competitors always gunning for you.”
“Yep. If he didn’t have a good head on his shoulders he’d be a goner.”
“Imagine if he didn’t have Ma.”
“Easy to do.”
“Joseph Patrick Haughty!” Gertrude declared. “What an awful thing to say about that nice woman!”
Laura was preoccupied rinsing batter off a pan. Fenton continued reading the Gazette, apparently not noticing, though one might have interpreted a hint of a smirk forming on his lips.
“Gosh, I’m sorry Aunty,” Joe said with a sag of the shoulders. “Better wash my mouth out with soap!”
Frank hopped up. He and Joe were so close that they read each other like professionals. He pecked his mother’s cheek at the sink before trotting around to Joe and Gertrude’s side of the table with a bottle of liquid soap.
“Here you go, Aunty! This’ll help!” He squeezed a fragrant green stream into her water glass with gusto. Since his aim was a little sloppy, the majority of it landed on the harpy’s breakfast. Much of the rest soaked her lap.
“Oh, heavens!” she crowed. Her hands flew into the air involuntarily, just long enough for Joe to pin them over her head.
“Naughty naughty words!” Joe sang. “Someone else just moved to the front of the soap line!”
For the next 60 seconds she struggled hopelessly while Frank waterboarded her with her own drinking glass. Fenton and Laura shared a chuckle over a witty comic strip.
After the boys engaged in a few more minutes of unspeakable acts, their aunt retired to her room.
Despite the silverware clattering into place all around the table, the people in the kitchen heard Joe enter the living room through the front door.
“Come on in, son! There’s a stack in here with your name on it!”
Fenton Haughty’s cheerful attitude grew from his popular status in the community. After a long career as a detective for the Baytown police force, Fenton started a new one as a famously successful private investigator. His naturally smiley brown eyes charmed even the scoundrels he hunted. He profited especially well from cases involving his former police force brethren who inevitably cheated on their spouses. These wives paid him so generously in ways financial and sensual that Fenton often wondered with starry eyes why their husbands considered straying at all.
Their Sunday morning breakfast tradition typically bustled with family chatter about the latest happenings. Already seated along with Fenton were Joe’s younger brother Frank and the boys’ aunt Gertrude Hardy, a silver-haired wiry old fussbudget who lived there too. Meanwhile their mother Laura whisked her petite frame around the room masterfully, serving her expert cooking in delicious portions.
“Was anyone else at Pop’s today?” Laura asked.
“Yes,” Joe replied. The boys had a way of answering yes or no questions just so.
“I mean... other than Ma?” she added with playful mock exasperation.
“Yes,” Joe replied. Come to think of it, he hadn’t noticed whether or not Ma was working in the side office. It added a bit of uncertainty to tomorrow’s headline in the Baytown Gazette that pleased him.
“There must have been a whole herd of customers there to make you so late arriving to breakfast,” Gertrude said bitterly. She did think fondly of her nephews, which never fully surfaced from under the many layers of a life dreadfully lived. Even at her best she was a crusty, wretched human being.
“Oh Aunty, there was quite a body count all right,” Joe said with an affectionate nudge that made her reflexively flail to keep her chair from nearly toppling over. An ambulance raced down Main Street. Frank caught on to Joe’s drift, his deep brown eyes twinkling at the realization in tune with his rugged movie star handsomeness. He was an inch shorter than Joe, while carrying more muscle on his frame.
Although Frank approached studying more casually than his brother, both were excellent students. In fact, the boys admired their father so much that they had become amateur sleuths themselves. In recent weeks there had been a string of unsolved armed burglaries. Baytown police were hot on the case; the boys had found it to be mostly uninteresting until now.
“Pop’s amazing. His prices are so low it’s almost a steal,” Frank said off-handedly.
Joe pushed a forkful of pancake into his mouth without looking up. “Mmm-hm. Some customers more than others. Pretty alarming.”
“Hard to stay alive in business like that,” Frank returned.
“Things do change.”
“Competitors always gunning for you.”
“Yep. If he didn’t have a good head on his shoulders he’d be a goner.”
“Imagine if he didn’t have Ma.”
“Easy to do.”
“Joseph Patrick Haughty!” Gertrude declared. “What an awful thing to say about that nice woman!”
Laura was preoccupied rinsing batter off a pan. Fenton continued reading the Gazette, apparently not noticing, though one might have interpreted a hint of a smirk forming on his lips.
“Gosh, I’m sorry Aunty,” Joe said with a sag of the shoulders. “Better wash my mouth out with soap!”
Frank hopped up. He and Joe were so close that they read each other like professionals. He pecked his mother’s cheek at the sink before trotting around to Joe and Gertrude’s side of the table with a bottle of liquid soap.
“Here you go, Aunty! This’ll help!” He squeezed a fragrant green stream into her water glass with gusto. Since his aim was a little sloppy, the majority of it landed on the harpy’s breakfast. Much of the rest soaked her lap.
“Oh, heavens!” she crowed. Her hands flew into the air involuntarily, just long enough for Joe to pin them over her head.
“Naughty naughty words!” Joe sang. “Someone else just moved to the front of the soap line!”
For the next 60 seconds she struggled hopelessly while Frank waterboarded her with her own drinking glass. Fenton and Laura shared a chuckle over a witty comic strip.
After the boys engaged in a few more minutes of unspeakable acts, their aunt retired to her room.
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