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Lunch Time Reading! Enjoy This Free Excerpt From KND Thriller of The Week: James Fox’s Dust Pan Girl

On Friday we announced that Dust Pan Girl by James Fox is our Thriller of the Week and the sponsor of thousands of great bargains in the thriller, mystery, and suspense categories: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!

Now we’re back to offer our weekly free Thriller excerpt:

Dust Pan Girl

by James Fox

5.0 stars – 7 Reviews
Or currently FREE for Amazon Prime Members Via the Kindle Lending Library
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here’s the set-up:
A YOUNG GIRL IS STABBED IN THE DARK BY HER OWN FATHER. HER MOTHER RACES HER TO THE HOSPITAL ONLY TO FIND OUT SHE IS OKAY. SHE SAVED HERSELF BY CARRYING HER MOST PRIZED POSSESSION. AN OLD METAL DUSTPAN THAT SHE LOVES TO PLAY WITH IN HER COAT. THE STORY BRINGS TO THE SMALL TOWN OF HOOD RIVER OREGON A CON MAN OF UNQUESTIONABLE SKILL, WHO WILL EXPLOIT THE SITUATION FOR MONEY.

And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

DUST PAN GIRL FIRST THREE CHAPTERS

Chapter One

Oct 31st 5:00 PM

“The worst way to start a book is to read the first page. It always reeks of desperation.”

I hear Cort talking to me, but I can’t answer him. He stuffed a gag in my mouth when he was tying my arms and legs together. I turn away from him and look out towards my home.

Hood River is a bustling place. I can see Mt. Hood looming over the valley blocked by the tall foothills of the Cascade Range. There are houses standing watch as the Hood River pays tribute to the wide Columbia. That massive river splits Oregon and Washington apart. Bridges like this one try to stitch them together again.

`           That’s where I am now. On a bridge, and it’s a gorgeous Halloween evening in the fall of 2011. This is the day I’m going to die.

“Janet! Are you listening to me?”

Cort pulls on the rope in his hands. One end is tied to his waist. From there it leads to an old metal trunk that belonged to Steven Oakley Crates. Most everyone called him by his intended nickname Socrates. From there the rope is tied to my legs. Cort will jump off the bridge and the trunk will follow him, and I will be pulled off the bridge and sink slowly to the bottom of the river.

As Cort pulls on the rope the trunk scrapes along the metal guardrail where it sits. The screech the metal trunk makes me scream through my gag. I can’t move. I don’t even think I could jump forward over the guardrail. Even if I did the weight of Cort and the trunk would still pull me over the side of the bridge.

I hear loud popping coming from the Oregon side of the river. Then loud booms and smoke rising. The State Police had formed a line to hold back the thousands of people in the crowd. They formed right at the toll booth in two tight lines.

Out of the smoke stumbles a figure toward us. At first glance I think it’s a disorientated cop. The figure lumbers forward a few steps and stops. One figure becomes two as hands pop out of the waist and hoists the torso off and down to her feet.

The little boy nicknamed Smoke Bomb points towards Cort and I, then turns back to the toll gate hurling more smoke bombs at the frazzled police. I know it’s her before she takes the helmet off her head. She walks with the swagger of Superman and the pace of my 8 year old daughter.

I’m ambivalent.  I want her here and I don’t. I want to see her before I die, but I don’t want her to watch me die.

“Look at her, Janet! The worst book we ever opened. We could have been happy together. Still, maybe they’ll write a book about us, and this is how it’ll end. That little girl is going to watch us die. Then she’ll know what she did to us. Don’t worry, Janet!  She can’t hurt you anymore.”

I hear the whumpa whumpa whumpa of a helicopter above.  I can barely recognize a reporter leaning out the side door. He points at us and talks into a microphone. I turn away from him and look back at my daughter. I named her Comet because the night she was born a shooting star flashed across the night sky..

Please God, be good to her.

I see her take off her helmet and her long black hair sails in the wind. She reaches behind her back and pulls out her dust pan that shines brilliantly in the sun.

A voice on a loudspeaker booms from the helicopter.

“Dust Pan Girl is on the bridge! I repeat Dust Pan Girl is on the bridge!”

Out of all the things I have in my brain the only coherent thought I have is a question.

How did it all come to this?

Oct. 28th 6:00 am

I was in my bakery.  How does so much dirt get tracked in here? I didn’t even have ten customers yesterday. I still need to pull my pastries out of the oven. Where’s Comet? “Comet Estevez!  Come down here!” That slow gait of hers isn’t going to help my stress level.

“Yeah, Mommy?”

“Comet, I need you to come sweep this up. C’mon like a big girl.”

Comet rubbs the sleep from her eyes.

“Mommy needs your help.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Comet grabs the broom from my hand.

“Good. I saw an old dust pan on a nail over there.” I head back to the kitchen. I look behind me and see Comet staring up at the dust pan on the wall.

The pastries are hot from the oven. Of course I don’t like a few of them. I put them toward the back of the display case. The heat steams up the display case glass for a couple of seconds. Now everything is ready, I can take a few minutes and run Comet up to her school.

“Comet! Where are you?” That girl! It’s everything I can do not to yell at her all day. “Comet Estevez!” She’s hiding, wonderful. She likes to pull this sort of thing right before school. I feel the warm mask of anger on my face.

The bakery isn’t very big. There’s a customer seating area, that doesn’t get used. There’s a small display case and a cash register that rarely get used. There’s the kitchen, but she wouldn’t hide in there. She could’ve gone upstairs to her room. “Comet! We have to leave.” I hear some movement from over by the bathroom.  I walk in and see her standing in front of the mirror. She had tied a red towel around her neck, and changed her clothes again, putting on some blue tights. She looks at me. “I’m Dust Pan Girl!”

“No, sweetie you’re late.”

It takes some inner magic to get her ready for school again without yelling. I lock up the bakery and head for the car. My sad little hatchback has seen better days. The tires are bald, there’s rust creeping up the wheels, brakes are questionable, and there’s a crack in the windshield. All of this would be no problem if the stubborn thing would stop starting every morning, but it does every time. We head up the hill slowly. I don’t have time to let the car warm up more, so it’s a little cold inside. Comet snuggles down her coat like a shy turtle. The coat is too big for her, but slightly used and cheap it was hard to pass up when I bought it.

Comet stares out her window quietly. We live in a great town. Hood River, Oregon. It’s great because there is almost always something to do. In the summer there’s windsurfing and kite boarding on the Columbia. Hiking and Camping is plentiful here. In the winter we have several ski resorts open on Mount Hood. The town is less than an hour from Portland, and only a few hours from the beach.  It’s the perfect place to have a small business. My bakery sits on the best downtown street. There is almost always plenty of foot traffic, except right now.

Hood River is like a smaller version of Aspen, Colorado with more to do, but there is one major slow period too. When the waters of the Columbia get cold in the fall, and before Mount Hood gets some serious snowfall is when things get slow. I sit in my bakery everyday hoping for enough customers to walk in the door. Each and every day I pray for more. I wouldn’t be in this spot if I could say no to Cort, but I’m scared at what he’d do to us if I didn’t give him money.

Hood River is a town built entirely on hills. My hatchback hacks and coughs climbing Hospital Hill towards Comet’s school. The rhymes in my head tell me I could afford some small car, only if Cort had not taken it so far. PAY ATTENTION! I almost was in a crash. My little car would’ve finally been trash. Today would be bad timing, for too much inner rhyming. “Comet?” I say. “What will you do in school today?” She looks up from under her hood, a nod to let me know she understood.

“Mommy! Did you almost hit someone again?”

I can’t lie to her. “Almost sweetie, but we made it.”

“Mommy, you scare me when you do that.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” My head clears when I talk to her. When she grows up I’ll tell her how much she helped me through it all. “Here we are Comet, I love you.”

“Mommy this is the wrong school.”

“What?” I look around. She’s right. Comet went to this school in kindergarten, but now she goes to one out past the orchards. “Hang on, we’re running a little late.”

I drive into the right school with plenty of time for Comet to make it to class. I on the other hand need to haul some. No more rhyming right now I need to focus. What else do I need to do before I open up this morning? Put money in the cash drawer, start brewing some coffee, turn the sign to open, and hope that I will get enough customers today to pay for next month’s rent. Beyond all of that I hope that today I won’t see Cort. I’m tired of working so hard just for him to take it from us. I don’t even want to think about how much I’ve given him this year alone. Why can’t he get his act together? Grow up and be a man? I could use some help from time to time. Not just another bill that walks and talks and slaps and shakes. Not another day when he just takes, takes, takes.

I pull into my parking spot, and walk down the hill to my bakery. On the way in I turn the sign to open. I turn on the lights and look around. I don’t see any reason why I can’t make money today. I walk behind the counter and fill the cash drawer. Behind me on a table against the wall I hit a button and the coffee starts to brew. Soon I hear the drips.

In my head I have a number. It’s seventeen. That is how many customers I need this morning so I can make rent next month. After that all my bills are paid up and I can use the last few days this month to make money for Comet and I to live off of. During the summer I’d make enough in the first two weeks of the month to take care of all that. In the winter it’s usually two and a half weeks, but still I make plenty of money. It’s just this point in the fall that I have trouble

I would be fine if Cort would leave me alone. Sometimes he disappears for a while. I love those times. He’ll be gone, and I can relax. Deep down I’d like to see him drown. Deep down I wouldn’t even frown. Deep down I might even say yay! Deep down I hope he dies today…

I feel dark when I think about that, but after all that Cort has done to me I can’t help it. I try to forget it as I see a customer walk in. She’s one of my regulars. I smile and fill a tall cup of coffee and load her up with pastries. She thanks me and leaves. Sixteen more customers, and I can make rent next month. I wonder if there was anyone like me on the planet. Seven billion people are out there right now. I wonder if any of them rhyme when they think inside their head.

 

 

Oct 28th 9:00 a.m

The outside of the Bel Air, California mansion gives off the impression of great wealth. The people who live here are not hurting in the recession at all. To them it must seem like a nightmare they don’t bother on having. This is especially true since the occupant of this monstrous place is not human. You might say that anyone living in such decadence can’t be considered human, but in this case it is almost worse. The occupant of this mansion is a cat. The richest cat in southern California is the sole heir to a high end cat food fortune. Her name is Buffy.

Buffy is a brilliantly white cat with green eyes the color of money. Buffy’s biography on the corporate website states that she loves being brushed, playing with cotton balls, and is very spry for being 22 years old. That is what the website says.

Right now there is a wonderful meet and greet of the winners of some lame contest. The lower grass field of the cat food mansion is busy with well-groomed cats, well groomed women, some very bored men, photographers, and caterers. Behind all of this sits a man named Angel. Angel is twenty, good looking and energetic. He is a soccer player in the day, and a poker player by night. Angel has been stuck in L.A.’s junior games of poker for some time, since no one believes him when he says he’s got money in the bank. It eats at him constantly. This hindering of his game is why Angel has killed Buffy six times.  Angel is the next heir of the cat food fortune after the cat dies. Buffy the cat has been poisoned, dropped, kicked, dropkicked, stabbed, and shot. Angel is growing impatient with how many lives the old cat has had. So, feeling impotent he has reached out to some of his poker buddies with a challenge. Five million dollars will be transferred to the man who can actually kill Buffy.

Sitting in a car outside the mansion is a unique individual. His phone rings and he answers it. “Frank, how are you, my boy.”

“Lucky, where in the world are you?”

 “Frank I am in Bel Air at the moment. I am enjoying a gorgeous morning.”

“Lucky we need to talk. Things are getting tight for you. The last royalties for your TV shows are starting to dry up. You’ve eaten through the last stocks you got from wife #2. Wife #3 is fighting your alimony status. Your rental in the hills is over with at the end of next week, and there’s a tow truck waiting outside your other house for the Mercedes.”

Don’t worry about it, Frank, it will all be fine. I want to tell you a story about a few of my new friends. You see I was in a Bel Air mansion last night playing a limit game of Omaha. During this game I find out that the young man I sat across from was named Angel. He’s the heir to some overpriced cat food fortune. He is unable to collect his inheritance until the kitty passes away. Which I’m sure had happened sometime five or six years ago. So he tells his friends that he will pay five million to whoever can get the job done. They all try their best, but in the end they don’t realize the source of a pet’s immortality.”

Frank is silent on the phone for a moment. “A butler?”

 “No a caretaker is what his title is. He controls all of the assets and insures the safety of an oblivious feline. For his part he has done his job extremely well. The cat has lived longer than anyone could’ve guessed. Angel and his friends are not bright enough to shed light on the truth. The cat has died several times, but never in public.” Lucky puts his car into drive and starts down the street. Ahead of him an intentional accident occurs. A man in a truck delivering fish to nowhere bounces off an elderly woman with a wind chime in the back of her car. The collision spreads fish all over the road. The wind chime rings in the back of the car which had its windows rolled down. From out on the grass a set of ears twitch in the wind. A young doppelganger jumps off a pillow and runs full speed toward the sound, which to her ears is suspiciously close to the dinner bell. Out on the road there is a feast before her eyes that she had never seen. Greater than anything ever offered to her, she runs to the first fish and begins to nibble. Lucky speeds up.

“Frank, there have always been opportunities to make more money. Don’t worry about that. What we need to do is be ready for them when they come our way.”

“Being your lawyer is never boring Lucky. By the way Natalie has been calling. I think she found out.”

“What could she find out?”

“She found out enough to realize she isn’t going to be rich by marrying you.”

“Don’t worry about her.”

“You know, Lucky she is pretty young.”

“Prospectors are always young, Frank.”

Do you think she’ll get the picture?”

She’ll get all the pictures. Have the hired guys bring the pictures back in the house. Dr. and Mrs. Steinz will want things back to normal when they come back from Europe next week. Once Natalie sees the pictures she’ll know everything that needs to be known. I suspect she’ll try a few more auditions before heading back to Nebraska.”

“I thought she was from Kansas?”

“She is from Kansas, but I found out her high school squeeze is a young QB in Nebraska. He’s nothing special mind you, but he will go in the third round of the NFL draft this year. She’ll coat tail him into the league for awhile, and probably settle down as a second wife to a decent tailback. Maybe I’ll run into her some day when I buy the 49ers.”

“You still dreaming of that, Lucky?”

“I dream about it all the time, Frank.”

What are we going to do in the meantime? I would like to get paid at some point too.”

“That won’t be a problem for long.” Lucky makes a left up a slight hill, an oblivious cat is right in front of him. “By the way Lucky, I got a call that you owe someone big for a game. Hollywood.”

“Tell Spiderman to back off, I’ll get him some action the next time I’m in town.”

“Wasn’t him. Big Boy is looking for you.”

“That is a different matter.” Lucky tenses up. The knuckles around the steering wheel stretch white. “How much is it by his count?”

“Six million.”

“Well I have a need to disappear for a while. I’ll call you when I land.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What about your expenses? Should I just erase Lucky and start fresh.”

“Prep that. I will need a new set of papers to work from. I’ll call you when I come up with a new name. As far as your expenses don’t worry…” THUMP THUMP “..the cat is in the bag.” Lucky rolls down his window and smiles at an overdressed and soon to be unemployed caretaker. The despair in his face is the funniest thing Lucky has seen in a long time. Dozens of guests, contest winners, photographers all come to witness the horror of it. Among them Lucky sees Angel. He nods approvingly, and they both know that Buffy is dead for sure this time. Angel raises his fingers to his eyes and rubs his middle and index finger together with his thumb. That gesture is the international sign of money.

“Frank are you still there?”

“Lucky! What did you do?” Frank mockingly portrays disapproval. “Angel will call you in an hour or so. It won’t take him long to get access to the money, but it doesn’t matter. He has enough piled up in his other trust fund to pay us. When he does I would like you to do me a small favor and go get something out of hawk.”

“The baseball cards?”

“No, the value of those things drops all the time. I’ll be able to pick up some huge stashes for next to nothing in the coming years. No, I want you to go get my cufflinks.” Frank pauses for a moment. “Oh I know, the black onyx with the diamonds. What did they say 1ct?”

 “One percent.”

 

Chapter Two

Oct 28th 12:15 p.m.

A principal of a small town elementary school doesn’t have a large office. There is a small computer desk with a decent chair. Two filing cabinets crammed into the back corner by a window. Photos and diplomas and charts line the walls. In front of the desk there are two chairs. All three chairs in the room are now occupied.

“Mary, you’re the principal. Do you think we need to call her mother?”

Mary shrugs. “I don’t think this is a major issue guys. Sometimes a dust pan is just a dust pan.”

Tom the underemployed P.E. teacher and Ms. Stevie the overworked 3rd grade teacher look at each other. Tom pipes up. “This could be used as a weapon.” Tom touches the metal dust pan. It’s old and black and heavy. The edge of the scoop is worn down and sharp.

Ms. Stevie looks at Mary. “I don’t think this girl had anything malicious in mind. I think she was just wrapped up in a fantasy. She was running around the school yard like she was a super hero.”

Tom coughs. “This thing could hurt somebody. I say suspend her for a few days so she’ll learn her lesson.”

Mary sits with her hands folded. She reaches over her head and cracks her knuckles loudly. “I think that is an overreaction Tom. She is a 3rd grader. This isn’t a weapon. It’s a dust pan.” Tom blinks like his eyes are burning him. “Anything can be a weapon if it is metal and sharp.” Tom runs his finger along the edge of the dust pan. “You’d be surprised what that thing can cut.” Mary looks at them both. “I know that we need to be careful with items brought on school grounds, but in this case I don’t see it as much of a problem. Ms. Stevie would you please tell young Ms. Estevez not to bring it again, and she can pick it up and the end of the school day here in my office. Tom in the future, when you are on campus, please bring these things to the full time staff.”

“Why?” Tom’s face gets red. Mary leans forward. “Unfortunately you are not around enough to know which kids are the troublemakers. Dragging that little girl in here and yelling at her was not the right thing to do. You scared her pretty bad, and for what? A dust pan?”

Ms. Stevie looks at Mary. “I think I’ll leave.”

“Thank you, is Ms. Estevez still in the waiting room?”

Ms. Stevie nods. “Tell her I’ll talk to her about this myself.” Ms. Stevie leaves.

Mary feels embarrassed, the young teacher didn’t need to see the principal talk down another teacher. That should be the case even if that teacher was here only 6 days a month. “Tom, you and I go back a long way.” Tom crosses his arms and flexes his old chest. “I’m sorry your job keeps getting chain-sawed by the budget, but when you are here I need a calm cool head or I can’t have you here at all.”

Tom stands up. “Mary I hope you have fun finding someone to replace me.” Tom leaves Mary’s office. She thinks that she’ll get a call from the teacher’s union about this soon enough. It won’t come to much, but the state will probably fund Tom’s retirement. So, it might turn out to be a good thing.

Tom storms out of the office area without looking at Comet. Tom comes right back in the office ten seconds later with another kid and walks up to Mrs. Thornbrush the stalwart secretary. “Tell Mary I know this item shouldn’t be on school grounds period.” Tom leaves a firecracker on the counter with the fuse half burnt off. He sits an old fourth grader next to Comet and leaves. Comet looks over the boy, she had seen him before. He had been in the fourth grade group since Comet was in the first grade. Mrs. Thornbrush picks up the firecracker and walks into Mary’s office. The young boy looks around and reaches into his pocket. From a small tube he rubs something that smells funny on his hand. He then reaches into another pocket and pulls out a lighter. He squeezes the flat button on the lighter while squeezing his hand around it. After a few seconds he strikes the lighter and opens his hand. Comet looks as the fire dances in the boys’ eyes. She sees him smile. He sees her and closes his hand extinguishing the flame. “What did you do?” he asks her. “I brought a dust pan to school.”

“Why?” he says. “Because I’m Dust Pan Girl.”

He smiles at that. “What did you do?” she asks him. “I brought a smoke bomb to school.”

“Why?” she says.

“Because I’m Smoke Bomb.”

“Ms. Estevez.” Mrs. Thornbrush looks at Comet with eyes that have seen everything. She is neither amused, bewildered, or the least bit reactive to anything Comet has done. In that way Mrs. Thornbrush is the best judge of what happens at the school. When Comet passes her Mrs. Thornbrush goes back to her desk. Before she sits down she looks over at the young boy, and raises an eyebrow. To anyone who knows her this gesture would be on par with a statue that sneezed.

Inside Mary’s office the principal looks at the young girl. “Don’t be scared Ms. Estevez. I’m not going to call your mom about this. I do want you to know that you shouldn’t bring this dust pan to school.”

Did I break a rule? Mary wonders aloud for a moment. “No, you didn’t break a rule, but I can ask you not bring it to school.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mary thinks for another moment. She can’t call the dust pan a weapon. It’s too ridiculous. “Your dust pan might distract other students here. So they can’t learn.”

That actually might be true Mary thought. “Other kids bring stuff here. One boy in my class is always bringing stuff. We call him IPOD.”

“Why?” Mary asks.

“His real name is Isaac Paul Odell. So the kids call him IPOD. He’s got cool games he shows us at lunch.”

Mary changes her tactics. “Ms. Estevez. Why do you want to bring a dust pan to school?”

Comet looks up at her. “Because I’m Dust Pan Girl.” Mary doesn’t like the moniker. She convinces herself that this girl might never live down that nickname. “Ms. Estevez do you know that at some point you won’t want to be Dust Pan Girl.”

Comet shrugs. “I just started.”

Oct 28th 2:30 p.m.

Mary walks outside the school building. There is a line of buses on her right and longer line of SUVs on her left. Hood River shut down one of its elementary schools this year. That leaves Mary’s school with another in town, one more in the middle valley and one in the upper valley. Still no matter where kids live their parents all request transfers to Mary’s school. Mary would like to think that’s because she’s a great educator, or she keeps nice facilities, or even that she has a great teaching staff, but she knows different. As the bell rings the kids with the designer clothes take a left toward the SUVs and the kids with the hand-me-downs take a right towards the buses. Mary sees Comet taking a right. She also sees a young Mr. Odell taking a left and follows him. Mrs. Odell drives a very nice car that makes Mary jealous when she sees it. As Isaac jumps in Mary waves and says hi. She wants to say something to Mrs. Odell, but doesn’t. What could she say? Hi, I was wondering if you could not load your son up with rechargeable plastic envy and send him into an elementary school. Could you also not shop for his clothes in the swanky end of the mall? Thank you. All I want is for these kids to be friends. Mary walks back to her office a little sadder. She wonders what chance Dust Pan Girl has in this world.

Comet loves riding the bus home. She draws little shapes on the windows. She laughs with the other kids. Sometimes she rides up front, sometimes in the way back. Today she is somewhere in the middle, and she’s sitting with someone she never sat with before. Smoke Bomb.

“I never saw you ride this bus before.” Smoke Bomb shrugs. “I usually get a ride with my Mom, but she didn’t show up today. So, I’ll go home with you.” Comet laughs.  “You can’t go home with me you have to go home with your family.”

“Why? They don’t like me.” Smoke Bomb smiles at Comet. “Do you like me?”

“Yeah, why not?” The older boy gets red in his face. He’s much larger than Comet, but smaller in some ways. The bus driver is a friend of Janet’s. So he will drop off Comet right at the bakery. Smoke Bomb gets off with her. As they leave Comet runs right into the bakery, but Smoke Bomb pauses and watches the bus drive up the street a ways and stop. There are small flashes, some smoke, and a lot of screaming and laughing. Smoke Bomb smiles and walks into the bakery.

As he walks in, Janet greets him. “Hi little boy are you lost?”

“No Mommy, he’s my friend.”

Smoke Bomb smiles. “Comet, how did he get here?”

“He rode the bus with me, Mommy.” Janet is displeased, but handles it well. “Uh Huh. Well does your Mommy know you are here.” Smoke Bomb shakes his head and looks at all the goodies. “Do you know your phone number at your house?” Smoke Bomb nods. “Can you tell me your phone number?”

“I don’t want to,” he says. “You’ll call my mom and she’ll come get me.”

Janet’s eyes open. “Would you like a cookie?” Smoke Bomb nods. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a cookie if you tell me your phone number.” Smoke Bomb gives it to her. Janet makes the call. “Hi. My name is Janet. I run Janet’s Bakery downtown. I think I have someone who belongs to you.” There is a sigh on the other end of the line. Some muffled swears. “I’ll be right down.”

Smoke Bomb eats his cookie with glee and follows Comet into her playroom. There is a place for shoes and a small indoor castle. There are words on the outside of the castle. “What does that say?” Smoke Bomb asks.

“Fortress of Attitude. My Mom made it for me.”

“I like it.” They play together for a while and Smoke Bomb is incredibly happy. They form a superhero team together. Smoke Bomb and Dust Pan Girl. Smoke Bomb wants to light off some small smoke bombs but he used his last ones on the bus. It doesn’t matter to him much though. They laugh and play for half an hour until Smoke Bomb’s mother shows up.

“I’m so sorry for all the trouble Ms. Estevez.”

“Janet Estevez, and that is my daughter Comet.”

“How do you do.” Smoke Bomb’s mother is a large woman with a nervous temper about her. She’s embarrassed and rightly so. “My little boy is always getting into trouble. William! William come here.”

“That’s not my name!” Smoke Bomb shuffles his feat towards her.

“You’ve had a big day William, why don’t you pick out some more goodies from Ms. Estevez and we’ll take you home. Smoke Bomb lazily points at a few treats in the case. Janet packs them all up while the Smoke Bomb’s Mom pays for them. “Do you know the history of this building? I’m part of the local historical preservation group.” Janet shakes her head. “Well this used to be part of a larger country store, but they sold anything you wanted. Do you live in those apartments up there?”

Janet nods her head. “Do you know why they don’t have windows in the bedrooms?” “No, but I have a good imagination.” Janet didn’t want Comet to learn any of that just

yet. “Thank you for coming in, you and you’re son are always welcome.”

“I am?” Smoke Bomb lifts his head. “Can I come tomorrow?”

Janet looks at the boy’s mom. “It’s up to Ms. Estevez.” Janet is a little shocked that a mom would carelessly let some stranger look after her son. “I can pick him up at about the same time tomorrow.” Janet is put in a tough spot.

“Sure thing. Comet say goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Smoke Bomb.”

“Bye Bye, Dust Pan Girl.”

The rest of the evening things picked up in the bakery. Apparently Smoke Bomb’s mom put on Facebook how wonderful the goodies at the bakery were. Janet actually saw some summertime levels of traffic in her bakery. These weren’t the usual 7-8 dollar customers either, they were spending upwards of 20 dollars. Janet was happy. She had made enough not only to pay rent, but she had enough to go buy Comet some winter clothes. She found her daughter asleep in the Fortress of Attitude. “Comet, Sweetheart wake up.”

“Yeah, Mommy,” she whispers with her eyes closed.

“We need to go to the store and buy you some winter stuff.”

Comet smiles and opens her eyes. “Yeah! Winter Stuff!” Janet lets her put on her coat while she grabs the night deposit for the bank. One of the nice things about working downtown is that everything is in walking distance. Janet locks up the bakery and starts up the street. Hood River is a nice town really. Janet’s bakery is on the low end of a street that climbs up to the library. The bank is only a block away from the bakery. Tonight that’s a block too far.

“Janet. Hi!” Comet frowns from underneath her coat.

“Go away Captain Dirt.”

“Comet, be quiet.” Janet stands tall looking at him. He’d lost weight. He was skinny in his face. His oversized smile glowed in the dark like the Cheshire cat. He wears a dirty jean jacket like a clothes hangar, and some stained cargo pants. “How did we do today?” His grin cuts deep into Janet. She’s scarred and scared of him.

“Slow time of the year, just enough to pay bills y’know?”

“Janet c’mon. I saw big women leaving your store with big boxes not a half hour ago.” “I don’t need it all this time. I just need a little to help me cut down. Things are getting

better for me these days.”

“Go away Capt. Dirt!” Janet pushes Comet to the side, she keeps getting in the middle of them.

Cort Roberts looks down at Comet. “Why don’t you shut up while the big people talk huh? You little worm germ.”

“Leave her alone, Cort.” Janet cocks her head. “I can’t help you out anymore okay. I have to look out for my daughter.”

Dirt laughs. “Look out for her. Listen to me. She’s the reason why we’re so messed up Janet.”

“I’m not messed up. You are. You can’t have any more money Cort.”

Dirt’s smile fades. “Can’t or won’t, Janet? My mom owns that building. You owe me.”

At this point other people on the street stop to watch. “They might own it, but you never will. They cut you off, Cort.”

He smacks her hard in the face. She feels tears in her eyes and pain rush to her cheek. “I’m the only reason you’re not out on the street, Janet. You owe me. Now pay up.”

It takes a lot out of her, but she manages to say, “No”.

Dirt can’t believe it. “You will pay me.” From under his coat he tugs at something. Janet backs up. Dirt grabs her hair. “You don’t say no to me!”

“Get away from me, Cort.” Janet cries hard.

“You don’t like me, Janet. Fine.” His arm moves reaches back into the air with a knife in his hand. Janet freezes solid.

The knife thrusts forward. “Mommy!”

Dirt looks down. He sees a little girl with a knife in her. It scares him, and he runs. He can hear Janet behind him screaming. Great, he thinks. I forgot the cash.

Janet grabs Comet up in her arms. “No. NO. NO!!” There are people around instantly. A car pulls up and they get her and Comet inside. Tires screech all the way up hospital hill. Janet holds her hand down hard against Comets’ chest, and rocks her back and forth. There’s nothing she can do. They pull up to the Emergency Room and the driver helps them inside. “She was stabbed,” is all that Janet can say. The nurses put her on a bed and a young woman doctor carefully unzips the coat.

A photographer always has his camera with him. That is from an old movie, and it’s true. JT had snuck into the Emergency Room to get a picture with a celebrity skateboarder who’d broken his arm while in town. JT was shocked when they brought in the little girl. Something bad was wrong with her. Shot maybe. As they started to unzip her he instinctively held up his camera and took a picture. What he and everyone else saw was a miracle. Down feathers from the jacket floated around like angels. The little girl had a smile on her face. Her chest wasn’t covered in blood. It was covered with an old metal dustpan that had a fresh scratch in the middle. JT took more pictures, and caught a quote too. The little girl sat up and raised her arms to say. “Dust Pan Girl Saves The Day!”

Chapter Three

Janet finally stopped crying when the cops had been there for ten minutes. JT hung around in the background eavesdropping. When the doctors were done checking Comet for injuries, Janet told the cops that she wanted to go home. The cops thought that was a bad idea. Besides they wanted to sit on the bakery to see if Dirt would show up again. One of the cops looked at Janet and asked, “Could you spend the night at a family members’ house? A friends?”

Janet told them that her family was all in Mexico, and single mothers had few friends. “She does have an old high school teacher.”

Socrates walks into the ER room. A balding man in his seventies, pug-nosed and pot bellied. “She can stay with me tonight.”

Janet sobs relief.

Socrates drives back to his assisted living apartment in silence. Janet sits in the back seat holding a sleeping Comet in her arms. Streetlights flash through the window and light up Comets’ face. Janet can’t stop looking at her. She rhymes to herself in her head.

She’s alive. She’s alive. My heart took a dive.

She has life. She has life. It was not cut by a knife.

I need her grins. I need her spins. With her each day begins.

Without her I have no history, or victory.

Without her I….

Continued….

Click on the title below to download the entire book and keep reading

James Fox’s Dust Pan Girl>>>>

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