THE KEITH CAPER
It was cold in San Pueblo. Cold for two days before Christmas in California, anyway. Cold enough for handsome Keith Partridge and his carrot-topped brother, Danny, to wear jackets as they walked downtown.
Danny was taking in the cheery atmosphere, stopping to peer in the storefront windows with the unbridled enthusiasm of his eleven years, but Keith's mind was elsewhere.
As the group's lead singer, it was Keith's responsibility to write two new songs for the family's upcoming New Year's Eve concert in Seattle, and right now he was suffering what artists refer to as a dry spell. He had hoped that a brisk walk in the cool air would be edifying, but it wasn't helping. He was still as dry as a bone, and getting more desiccated all the time.
As Danny stopped at yet another window, Keith's thoughts were diverted for a moment to a big black car in the street behind them. He got the impression that it been following them for some time, although he couldn't be one hundred percent sure. He had been preoccupied with those recalcitrant songs, after all. Shrugging off the paranoiac feeling, Keith squinted up at the words painted on the window in front of them: Dewey's Comic Nook.
"C'mon, Danny. We'd better get home. Mom wants me to help put up the tree." Keith shoved his cold hands in his pockets.
"In a minute, in a minute. I just remembered, I forgot somebody very special on my gift list." Danny's freckled face was pressed against the glass, causing a fog to form on it as he spoke.
"Yeah?" Keith was skeptical, his delicate features scrunched in doubt. As looks went, these brothers were definitely on opposite ends of the spectrum. "Who?"
"Me!" Danny grinned. "There's a Spiderman comic in there with my name on it."
Keith sighed, shaking his long, shaggy brown mane. "It's almost six o'clock. Store's probably closed." Was it his imagination, or had the black car stopped? He didn't dare look back over his shoulder.
"Nope. There're a couple people at the counter. C'mon, Keith, it'll only take five minutes, I promise!"
Again Keith sighed, looking more and more dubious. And becoming more and more tempted to look behind him. Then, "Five minutes," he said sternly. "Then I'm leaving without you."
Danny was off like a shot. Suddenly feeling a chill, Keith pulled his coat closer around him.
A noise behind him caused him to whirl around. Suddenly a gloved hand clamped over his mouth while the other arm wrapped around his chest, rendering him immobile. He was propelled away from the window, to a door about four feet away; out of the store's occupants' views. "Don't move," a heavy voice grated in his ear.
Paralyzed, Keith nodded, his astonishingly brown eyes wide with fear, his heart pounding against the muscled arm still tight around his chest. He felt something pressing hard into his ribs as he was shoved forward. "In the car, and no funny business, or I'll kill you right here and now," The Voice ordered.
Believing every word, Keith stumbled blindly towards the waiting vehicle. But just before he was pitched inside, he managed a terrified wail, "Danny!"
Then everything went black.
Inside the store, Danny was opening the door in time to see Keith being forced into the black monster. In shock, he watched as the car screeched away from the curb with his older brother in it. Bolting forward, Danny dropped his newly purchased comic book. "Keith?!" He screamed, his prepubescent feet carrying him swiftly into the street just as the car careened around a corner and out of sight. "Keith!" Danny yowled again, his throat burning from the effort.
Horrified and confused, he just stood there, staring after the now departed vehicle. Then he did what any normal eleven-year-old boy would do. "Mom!" he wailed, tearing in the direction of home.
As Shirley tried to calm her hysterical son, Reuben was on the phone with the police.
"Yes, the singer!" Reuben's insides were Jell-O, but he had to maintain some modicum of calmness in the chaos erupting around him. "Not ten minutes ago, in front of…" He put his hand over the receiver. "What was the name of the store?"
Danny looked blank, pale, empty. "I don't remember!" He blurted, slapping a hand to his forehead. It had taken a full twenty minutes before any of the Partridges could get a full sentence out of him, and now this.
"Yes you do, Danny. Think. You were buying something." Shirley, herself congealed within, gripped her middle son's shoulders as if there were no tomorrow. And for Keith, it was exactly that, from what she could gather.
"Yeah." Danny nodded numbly. "A…a comic book."
Laurie grabbed the yellow pages from near the phone where Reuben stood ever so quietly dying inside.
"Bookstores!" She tore through the pages, then thrust the open book at Danny. "Which one!" Laurie nearly sobbed. Keith was, after all, her best friend, not counting her mother. Extremely close, they'd had their share of tragedies, but none as horrifying as this.
Danny's chubby finger scanned the page. "Dewey's!" He announced wide-eyed after a few seconds. "Dewey's Comic Nook."
Reuben repeated the information, his legs threatening to fold beneath him, but he managed to remain stoic. Again, to Danny: "The car."
"Black. Big. Like a…a caddy," Danny answered. "It turned north on Main Street."
"License plate?"
This time, Danny shook his head, his eyes lowering. "It got away too fast." He had failed. Looking up at his mother, he muttered, "I tried, I really did."
"It's all right." Shirley took his round face in her trembling hands. Her dark eyes pierced Reuben. "Are they at least going to look for him?" She had seen more than one movie where the police refused to look for someone they considered an adult until twenty- four hours had passed. Keith was only seventeen. Still a child; still a baby. Her baby.
Reuben held up his hand. "Thank you, officer. Yes, we'll be here." Hanging up the phone, he swallowed hard. "They've got every available officer on it." He cast an encouraging smile towards his little group. "They'll find him, gang," he said softly. "Keith's smart, level headed. And blessed."
Shirley nodded in agreement, her whole body numb. That was an understatement. In the past decade and a half, Keith had overcome appendicitis, numerous broken bones, mobs of girls tearing at him and just about every childhood disease that was tossed his way. But a kidnapping? It was the not knowing. The uncertainty…
"It's my fault!" Danny bellowed. "He wanted to go home, but I had to buy that stupid comic book!"
"Stop it, Danny!" Shirley's voice was as stern as he'd ever heard it. It was almost angry. "If you had been with him, they probably would have grabbed you, too!"
"And then there would've been no one to tell us anything," Reuben chimed in. "If it had to happen, it's best this way." He let himself fall on the couch at last. Only an hour ago, he was home eating the biggest hoagie sandwich ever made, free from the concerns of the world. Funny how life could throw such a vicious curve ball.
"So, what happens, now?" Laurie clutched at the front of her blouse, her hauntingly blue eyes moving from Reuben to Shirley and back again.
The blond manager shook his head. "We wait, I guess. For the police to come; for a phone call…"
"Shouldn't we drive around and see if we can find the car? At least I've seen it." Danny gravitated towards the door.
"That's a good idea," Laurie agreed. "I can take Danny downtown and we can start from the beginning."
"Let the police handle it," Shirley said firmly. They're professionals."
"But I hate waiting!" Laurie began to pace. "Oh, Mom, what are they doing to him? Is he hurt, is he bleeding?" Now the tears came. It was like a crack in the dam burst open. She couldn't voice the One Question: Is he alive?
Trembling, Shirley turned away from her daughter. Laurie had put into words what her heart was aching to say. And it was frightening.
Realizing her faux pas, Laurie grabbed her mother, pressing her head into Shirley's. "I'm sorry, Mama…"
Shirley swallowed the cantaloupe in her throat, patting Laurie's comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know." It barely came out as a whisper. She began to sway as the events of the past half-hour washed over her.
Laurie's hold on her tightened. "Get a chair. Mom's fainting!"
Reuben managed to get one of the dining table's chairs under Shirley just as the pretty mother of five (or was it now four?) sank onto it.
While the mother dropped out, the son was dropping back in, albeit slowly and painfully. Silence loomed around him as Keith awoke, disoriented and achy; unclear on his surroundings or why or how he got there. He guardedly opened his eyes. For some reason, his left arm hurt, and pain ripped through his skull. He saw flashes of light as he gingerly lifted his head. It was dark, that much he could tell, and at first he thought he was alone, but that theory was soon proved wrong when he heard snoring. Pushing himself up, he could barely make out a figure about twenty feet away sprawled in what appeared to be an easy chair.
His hand to his throbbing head, Keith eased his feet to the floor. The cot beneath him creaked and he froze, waiting for a reaction from his roommate. The person snored on and Keith rubbed the back of his neck, looking carefully around the room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to see that the room was sparsely furnished, with a couch, the easy chair…and a telephone! His heart leaped and he lurched up, but it was not to be. His legs dissolved under him and down he went. Cringing from both the fall and from the noise it made, he looked over at the still-sleeping form. It remained motionless and Keith drew in a deep breath, clutching his curiously aching arm.
The dizziness waned but it was quickly replaced by nausea as the person nearby stirred in the chair. As quickly as he could, Keith eased back onto the cot and lay down, defeated for the moment. It was then that the door opened and someone entered, flipping on a low-wattage light. Keith froze on the cot, closing his eyes as the door slammed shut and whomever it was in the chair jumped awake.
"Hey, Vinnie, the kid awake, yet?" It was The Voice he'd heard earlier.
Another male answered somewhat sleepily. "I don't think so. Did you call his family?"
"No. We'll do that from here. That way he can talk to 'em to prove we've got him, and that he's okay. For now." The first man ominously emphasized the last two words.
Keith swallowed, cautiously opening one eye. His captors looked pretty much how they sounded: two strong-looking men, slightly older than him. The sleepy one was scruffy; bushy-haired with a day's growth of beard, disheveled clothing, while the other had a little neater appearance, with a close haircut and mustache.
Vinnie glanced Keith's way. "You think we should ask for a million, Marty? I mean, we don't wanna price ourselves out of the market."
Marty laughed unfeelingly. "They want him back in good condition, they'll pay it. Besides, we've got more to bargain with. This syringe will do most of our talkin' for us." He patted his shirt pocket.
Again, Keith swallowed, feeling really sick, now. What kind of madness was he dealing with? For one thing, the Partridge Family didn't have a million dollars, not even for his safe return. And he didn't even want to think about what the syringe comment meant. Now he knew what he had to do: escape; and fast. But there wasn't even time to plan. A hand grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him off the cot.
"C'mon, Partridge. Time to call the nest."
It was cold in San Pueblo. Cold for two days before Christmas in California, anyway. Cold enough for handsome Keith Partridge and his carrot-topped brother, Danny, to wear jackets as they walked downtown.
Danny was taking in the cheery atmosphere, stopping to peer in the storefront windows with the unbridled enthusiasm of his eleven years, but Keith's mind was elsewhere.
As the group's lead singer, it was Keith's responsibility to write two new songs for the family's upcoming New Year's Eve concert in Seattle, and right now he was suffering what artists refer to as a dry spell. He had hoped that a brisk walk in the cool air would be edifying, but it wasn't helping. He was still as dry as a bone, and getting more desiccated all the time.
As Danny stopped at yet another window, Keith's thoughts were diverted for a moment to a big black car in the street behind them. He got the impression that it been following them for some time, although he couldn't be one hundred percent sure. He had been preoccupied with those recalcitrant songs, after all. Shrugging off the paranoiac feeling, Keith squinted up at the words painted on the window in front of them: Dewey's Comic Nook.
"C'mon, Danny. We'd better get home. Mom wants me to help put up the tree." Keith shoved his cold hands in his pockets.
"In a minute, in a minute. I just remembered, I forgot somebody very special on my gift list." Danny's freckled face was pressed against the glass, causing a fog to form on it as he spoke.
"Yeah?" Keith was skeptical, his delicate features scrunched in doubt. As looks went, these brothers were definitely on opposite ends of the spectrum. "Who?"
"Me!" Danny grinned. "There's a Spiderman comic in there with my name on it."
Keith sighed, shaking his long, shaggy brown mane. "It's almost six o'clock. Store's probably closed." Was it his imagination, or had the black car stopped? He didn't dare look back over his shoulder.
"Nope. There're a couple people at the counter. C'mon, Keith, it'll only take five minutes, I promise!"
Again Keith sighed, looking more and more dubious. And becoming more and more tempted to look behind him. Then, "Five minutes," he said sternly. "Then I'm leaving without you."
Danny was off like a shot. Suddenly feeling a chill, Keith pulled his coat closer around him.
A noise behind him caused him to whirl around. Suddenly a gloved hand clamped over his mouth while the other arm wrapped around his chest, rendering him immobile. He was propelled away from the window, to a door about four feet away; out of the store's occupants' views. "Don't move," a heavy voice grated in his ear.
Paralyzed, Keith nodded, his astonishingly brown eyes wide with fear, his heart pounding against the muscled arm still tight around his chest. He felt something pressing hard into his ribs as he was shoved forward. "In the car, and no funny business, or I'll kill you right here and now," The Voice ordered.
Believing every word, Keith stumbled blindly towards the waiting vehicle. But just before he was pitched inside, he managed a terrified wail, "Danny!"
Then everything went black.
Inside the store, Danny was opening the door in time to see Keith being forced into the black monster. In shock, he watched as the car screeched away from the curb with his older brother in it. Bolting forward, Danny dropped his newly purchased comic book. "Keith?!" He screamed, his prepubescent feet carrying him swiftly into the street just as the car careened around a corner and out of sight. "Keith!" Danny yowled again, his throat burning from the effort.
Horrified and confused, he just stood there, staring after the now departed vehicle. Then he did what any normal eleven-year-old boy would do. "Mom!" he wailed, tearing in the direction of home.
As Shirley tried to calm her hysterical son, Reuben was on the phone with the police.
"Yes, the singer!" Reuben's insides were Jell-O, but he had to maintain some modicum of calmness in the chaos erupting around him. "Not ten minutes ago, in front of…" He put his hand over the receiver. "What was the name of the store?"
Danny looked blank, pale, empty. "I don't remember!" He blurted, slapping a hand to his forehead. It had taken a full twenty minutes before any of the Partridges could get a full sentence out of him, and now this.
"Yes you do, Danny. Think. You were buying something." Shirley, herself congealed within, gripped her middle son's shoulders as if there were no tomorrow. And for Keith, it was exactly that, from what she could gather.
"Yeah." Danny nodded numbly. "A…a comic book."
Laurie grabbed the yellow pages from near the phone where Reuben stood ever so quietly dying inside.
"Bookstores!" She tore through the pages, then thrust the open book at Danny. "Which one!" Laurie nearly sobbed. Keith was, after all, her best friend, not counting her mother. Extremely close, they'd had their share of tragedies, but none as horrifying as this.
Danny's chubby finger scanned the page. "Dewey's!" He announced wide-eyed after a few seconds. "Dewey's Comic Nook."
Reuben repeated the information, his legs threatening to fold beneath him, but he managed to remain stoic. Again, to Danny: "The car."
"Black. Big. Like a…a caddy," Danny answered. "It turned north on Main Street."
"License plate?"
This time, Danny shook his head, his eyes lowering. "It got away too fast." He had failed. Looking up at his mother, he muttered, "I tried, I really did."
"It's all right." Shirley took his round face in her trembling hands. Her dark eyes pierced Reuben. "Are they at least going to look for him?" She had seen more than one movie where the police refused to look for someone they considered an adult until twenty- four hours had passed. Keith was only seventeen. Still a child; still a baby. Her baby.
Reuben held up his hand. "Thank you, officer. Yes, we'll be here." Hanging up the phone, he swallowed hard. "They've got every available officer on it." He cast an encouraging smile towards his little group. "They'll find him, gang," he said softly. "Keith's smart, level headed. And blessed."
Shirley nodded in agreement, her whole body numb. That was an understatement. In the past decade and a half, Keith had overcome appendicitis, numerous broken bones, mobs of girls tearing at him and just about every childhood disease that was tossed his way. But a kidnapping? It was the not knowing. The uncertainty…
"It's my fault!" Danny bellowed. "He wanted to go home, but I had to buy that stupid comic book!"
"Stop it, Danny!" Shirley's voice was as stern as he'd ever heard it. It was almost angry. "If you had been with him, they probably would have grabbed you, too!"
"And then there would've been no one to tell us anything," Reuben chimed in. "If it had to happen, it's best this way." He let himself fall on the couch at last. Only an hour ago, he was home eating the biggest hoagie sandwich ever made, free from the concerns of the world. Funny how life could throw such a vicious curve ball.
"So, what happens, now?" Laurie clutched at the front of her blouse, her hauntingly blue eyes moving from Reuben to Shirley and back again.
The blond manager shook his head. "We wait, I guess. For the police to come; for a phone call…"
"Shouldn't we drive around and see if we can find the car? At least I've seen it." Danny gravitated towards the door.
"That's a good idea," Laurie agreed. "I can take Danny downtown and we can start from the beginning."
"Let the police handle it," Shirley said firmly. They're professionals."
"But I hate waiting!" Laurie began to pace. "Oh, Mom, what are they doing to him? Is he hurt, is he bleeding?" Now the tears came. It was like a crack in the dam burst open. She couldn't voice the One Question: Is he alive?
Trembling, Shirley turned away from her daughter. Laurie had put into words what her heart was aching to say. And it was frightening.
Realizing her faux pas, Laurie grabbed her mother, pressing her head into Shirley's. "I'm sorry, Mama…"
Shirley swallowed the cantaloupe in her throat, patting Laurie's comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know." It barely came out as a whisper. She began to sway as the events of the past half-hour washed over her.
Laurie's hold on her tightened. "Get a chair. Mom's fainting!"
Reuben managed to get one of the dining table's chairs under Shirley just as the pretty mother of five (or was it now four?) sank onto it.
While the mother dropped out, the son was dropping back in, albeit slowly and painfully. Silence loomed around him as Keith awoke, disoriented and achy; unclear on his surroundings or why or how he got there. He guardedly opened his eyes. For some reason, his left arm hurt, and pain ripped through his skull. He saw flashes of light as he gingerly lifted his head. It was dark, that much he could tell, and at first he thought he was alone, but that theory was soon proved wrong when he heard snoring. Pushing himself up, he could barely make out a figure about twenty feet away sprawled in what appeared to be an easy chair.
His hand to his throbbing head, Keith eased his feet to the floor. The cot beneath him creaked and he froze, waiting for a reaction from his roommate. The person snored on and Keith rubbed the back of his neck, looking carefully around the room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to see that the room was sparsely furnished, with a couch, the easy chair…and a telephone! His heart leaped and he lurched up, but it was not to be. His legs dissolved under him and down he went. Cringing from both the fall and from the noise it made, he looked over at the still-sleeping form. It remained motionless and Keith drew in a deep breath, clutching his curiously aching arm.
The dizziness waned but it was quickly replaced by nausea as the person nearby stirred in the chair. As quickly as he could, Keith eased back onto the cot and lay down, defeated for the moment. It was then that the door opened and someone entered, flipping on a low-wattage light. Keith froze on the cot, closing his eyes as the door slammed shut and whomever it was in the chair jumped awake.
"Hey, Vinnie, the kid awake, yet?" It was The Voice he'd heard earlier.
Another male answered somewhat sleepily. "I don't think so. Did you call his family?"
"No. We'll do that from here. That way he can talk to 'em to prove we've got him, and that he's okay. For now." The first man ominously emphasized the last two words.
Keith swallowed, cautiously opening one eye. His captors looked pretty much how they sounded: two strong-looking men, slightly older than him. The sleepy one was scruffy; bushy-haired with a day's growth of beard, disheveled clothing, while the other had a little neater appearance, with a close haircut and mustache.
Vinnie glanced Keith's way. "You think we should ask for a million, Marty? I mean, we don't wanna price ourselves out of the market."
Marty laughed unfeelingly. "They want him back in good condition, they'll pay it. Besides, we've got more to bargain with. This syringe will do most of our talkin' for us." He patted his shirt pocket.
Again, Keith swallowed, feeling really sick, now. What kind of madness was he dealing with? For one thing, the Partridge Family didn't have a million dollars, not even for his safe return. And he didn't even want to think about what the syringe comment meant. Now he knew what he had to do: escape; and fast. But there wasn't even time to plan. A hand grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him off the cot.
"C'mon, Partridge. Time to call the nest."