Chapter 27: That's a Wrap!

In the end, the only people that got charged with anything were Hardaway and Olson.  Both had outstanding charges for other crimes, but there was plenty of evidence connecting them with the disposal of stolen money and goods from the Brotherhood Club’s rackets.

Richards, of course, was incapable of facing charges, having gone to face that one no earthly lawyer can ever defend.  His kids, however, were also free of charges.  Each of them seemed relieved to confess the crimes they’d pulled off, even if it was rather uncomfortable for them.  Brittany told of all the times she’d driven the getaway car for robberies.  Jimmy told of his part in bank holdups, as well as the arson at Mrs. Wilson’s house.  Soon, the police knew without a doubt that there had never been any midget bandits—it was all members of the Brotherhood Club.

Since Blackwell was a small town, though, most of the plaintiffs knew most of the children involved.  They realized that youths like Brittany McPherson and Jimmy Redford would never have committed crimes if it hadn’t been for Richards.  And so, most of them chose not to prosecute.  They realized that Richards had been the true offender, and they knew the kids in the club had suffered enough guilt to keep them from breaking the law again.  Especially Brittany, who tearfully admitted to the police that she wouldn’t still be alive if it weren’t for Auburn.

Speaking of Auburn, she got off easy too, though not scot-free.  Actually, she faced no kidnapping charges.  Everyone at the Larkin Hotel testified that they had gone there of their own free will—Brittany and several of the other kids reported that they had known their missing relatives’ location almost the whole time.  As the parents were forced to digest the awful reality that Richards was an evil maniac, they had little trouble discovering that the Purple Porcupine wasn’t actually a desperate criminal after all.  Particularly when they saw Auburn’s picture.  How could that thin, auburn-haired girl with the small nose and mouth possibly be the desperate crook the newspapers had portrayed?

And so, no parent in town pressed charges against Auburn.  Nor did the nursing home—in fact, Mrs. Grayson was allowed to leave and get her own place.  Auburn’s family now occupied her old house, but she found a stylish residence on the south side of town, the perfect size for her and her granddaughter.  With all the money she’d saved, purchasing it was no issue.

But we’re getting distracted here.  Auburn may not have faced punishment from the authorities, but she did receive some from her parents.  Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds were extremely interested to learn of their daughter’s many escapades, and they were a little upset about them.  Especially when Brittany told a Wichita reporter about Auburn’s dizzy spell on top of the tank.  “You might have been killed!” Mrs. Reynolds told her daughter, at least twenty times, always following up with, “We’re not going to let that happen again.”

And so, Auburn was grounded—until Brittany’s uncle had a chance to work her into his schedule.  In reality, the punishment was not that strict.  Both Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds began spending more time with their daughter, and they made sure she got out of the house more regularly.  Mr. Reynolds started taking her to Braum’s each night for ice cream, and Mrs. Reynolds took her along to the insurance office three days a week.  This proved an effective sales strategy, as Auburn’s fame had spread all over the northern OK/southern KS area.  Upon seeing the girl, prospective customers would say, “You mean, you’re that Mrs. Reynolds?  Mother of the girl that saved Blackwell?  What a wonderful daughter you have!”  A woman who’d instilled in her daughter such a strong determination to do the right thing, no matter the cost, could be trusted to sell insurance, and Mrs. Reynolds’s commission tripled the next several months.

Even abandoned buildings—well, one, anyway—benefited from the episode.  The real owner of the Larkin Hotel, upon hearing the story, saw a new purpose for the hotel—a tourist attraction.  He arrived in town, determined to fix it up and turn it into a museum.  At least, partly a museum.  The rest of it would be the Purple Porcupine Daycare Center, where your kids would be safe from any dangers that might present themselves.  Upon hearing about Auburn’s gigantic grocery bill, the citizens of Blackwell took up a collection, presenting Auburn with a full refund, as well as an extra $1500.

Perhaps the best part, though, came two months later, when the bell tinkled at the Conoco on Doolin Avenue.  Since school had started up, Brittany was only working Saturdays, but that’s what this particular day of the week was.  She looked up just in time to see her best friend walk in.

“Hi, Auburn!” she grinned, not a hint of fear or worry in her voice.  “Where are your bodyguards?  Did you sneak here by yourself?”

“Sneak’s not the word,” smiled Auburn, walking over to the counter.  “I had my final checkup yesterday.  Your uncle’s fixed me up completely.  No more dizzy spells ever again!”

“That’s wonderful!” said Brittany.  “This calls for a celebration!  Have a soda, on the house!”

“Oh, should I?” said Auburn.  “Wouldn’t that be stealing?”

Brittany shook her head.  “I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”

“I’ve kind of got a reputation to keep up,” Auburn said, walking over to the refrigerator.  “The Purple Porcupine doesn’t steal anything worth less than twenty dollars.”

“Except news headlines, fame, and popularity,” said Brittany.  “By the way, did you hear about Valentine?  He’s gone out of the detective business completely!”

“Really?” said Auburn.  “I know I had him fooled for a while, but he really helped us out at the refinery.”

“He did, but he decided the profession was getting too stressful for him, so he closed his office and moved to Watonga.  He’s started an after-school club there, designed to get kids involved in community service and build their character.  Only problem is, Watonga’s seen a drastic increase in crime since its founding.”

Auburn plunked her Big Blue on the counter and stared straight into Brittany’s eyes.  Brittany stared straight back, unblinking—for three seconds.  Then, both girls burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding, of course!” said Brittany.

“Oh, I knew you were,” said Auburn, “because the Purple Porcupine’s sending ransom notes this time!  I’ve been doing some stuff in Watonga, too…”

That part was a joke too, or so I’m told.  But if you’re ever in a small town in Oklahoma, and you see a Purple Porcupine sticker, please contact the authorities at once.  You know who to blame.

THE END

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SPOILER ALERT!!!

The next story on this blog’s all written and ready to go.  It’s Terror at Glasgow Station, and if you plan on reading it anyway, you might want to skip this next paragraph and surprise yourself.  If you need to know what it’s about first, then go ahead.  I won’t give away what happens…

It started out as a typical winter evening for twelve-year-old Marilyn Dawson, waiting at the train station for her father’s freight to come in.  She had no idea she was about to be joined by six gangsters, also waiting, but for a slightly different purpose.  They wanted to meet her father’s freight too, but they wanted to meet it with the Empire Builder—in a head-on collision!  Could Marilyn escape and warn her father in time, or would she be forced to wait in—

TERROR AT GLASGOW STATION

A 10-part story coming next week!