by CeeCee James
“I’m simply amazed,” Kari said.
“Amazed? I thought you said you knew I could do it!” I said, slightly tartly.
“Oh, that’s just me encouraging you. Don’t you remember I was a cheerleader?”
I laughed. With her makeup scrubbed off and her hair tucked in a ponytail, it brought me back to high school. Only we weren’t friends then since we lived in different circles in those years. It was good to see the changes time could bring.
“And now you’re a real estate agent,” I reminded her.
“One who might not fit into her new wardrobe after all of this.” She lifted another doughnut.
“You know it’s worth it!” I grinned.
“And you should be a detective,” Kari said.
“Speaking of detective, Daisy thinks Gertie is insufferable now that she knows Gertie helped solved this murder. I can’t wait to see how Daisy tries to get her gossip crown back.”
“Aww, so Gertie is happy.” Kari smiled.
“Very happy. And her dog, Frosty, has a new friend. With both Randy Kay and Jerry in custody, Gertie has adopted their cat, Scooter.”
“Thats super sweet. Is the cat happy at his new home, do you think?”
“It sounds like it.” I made a face. “Gertie told me the cat was especially fond of yogurt.”
Chapter 22
It was a week later, and Frank was back home. And, true to style, he’d promised to take me on a fantastic date as soon as he came back. A date that will knock your socks off, he’d told me.
Well, maybe not quite my socks, but definitely my shoes. I slipped my tennis shoes onto the shelf and grudgingly accepted the orange-and-pink bowling shoes.
“Snazzy,” Frank commented, his eyes lighting up. “Can’t wait to see them on your feet, Cinderella.”
“Cinderella’s about right. Aren’t you supposed to be the one trying them on my feet?”
He looked a little worried at that comment, so I laughed and shook my head to let him know he was off the hook.
“So you ready to do some bowling, Short Stuff?” Frank asked.
Like I said, always the romantic.
Still, love was about appreciating the eighty percent of a person you did adore, and putting up with the other twenty. And, after all, he was challenging me.
I rose to the challenge. “Of course I'm ready. I was born ready.”
“You were born to bowl?” Frank asked, poking me in the rib.
Make that twenty-five percent. I tied my shoe and slipped the other one on with a grunt. “I mean, I was born to win.”
“Sexay…” he said, making fun of my grunt.
“Shut up. You’re sexy.” I stood and ran my fingers through his crazy hair.
He laughed and rubbed it. “Guess it’s time for a trim, huh? The rain and mud didn’t help it much this week.”
“How about if I win, I’ll trim it.”
His eyes widened. “You’re kidding?”
I shrugged. Let’s see Frank put his money where his mouth was.
He licked his lip and then grinned rakishly. “Okay, then I’ve got my own wager. If I win, I want a back rub.” He lifted an eyebrow. “A deluxe back rub.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned. The last time I rubbed Frank’s back I’d discovered he was hairier than my legs after four months of winter. But it didn’t matter. I was going to be the winner. I stuck out my hand to seal the bet when he pulled me close and kissed me instead.
I realized as I walked over to my lane, my heels clicking on the slick surface, that Frank felt like he was going to be the winner no matter which way this bet landed. He might not think that after I cut the words “lover boy” into his hair.
I grinned at the thought and got my ball. It was sparkly pink, and it just said strike all over it. I glanced in his direction. He smirked back at me.
Oh, yeah? Here’s proving who’s the best bowler. I raised my arm behind me to swing.
“Don’t forget to turn your hips in,” he advised.
I grimaced and tried to ignore him.
“Watch that foot of yours. I don’t want you to slip,” he added.
I could hear the laughter in his voice. “Cheaters are never winners, Frank,” I yelled back and let the ball fly.
Eight pins knocked down ,and the two that were left weren’t split. Not quite a strike, but not bad. I made my way back to Frank who watched me with one raised eyebrow. I may have had a smirky smile on myself.
“Get ready for a haircut,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “I’m thinking we might try a motif on the side.”
“Get out of the way, Short Stuff, and let me show you how it’s done. By the way, I want you to use that almond body butter of yours on my man sweater.”
He walked to his lane and swiveled the ball, his eyes measuring the lane.
“Watch your feet!” I warned.
He snorted. “Amateur.”
It turns out that a more accurate word hadn’t been spoken. Frank beat me so severely that I knew I’d never hear the end of it. But when I pouted, he called me a sore loser. There was no winning in this situation.
We went back to my place where Frank surprised me by having a heart-shaped pizza delivered. It was over the second slice that I forgave him for winning.
Afterward, he sat on the couch where he watched all my cooking shows. He even hated the same people I did. Made me love him more.
He pulled me close and whispered in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my back. “I love you.”
Ahh, he even said it first! “I love you more,” I said to try and one-up him.
“No, that’s impossible,” he responded firmly, holding my hand in his, his thumb stroking my palm.
I moved slightly away and narrowed my eyes. “How is that impossible?
“Because my heart’s like twice the size of yours, that’s why,” he said confidently.
“Yeah, but you forgot yours has a little ice at the bottom.”
He snorted. “Go get the almond butter.”
The next morning, I’m happy to report I did make pancakes. And Frank rated them as superb. Well, what he actually said was that they were a step up from the cake that I’d made last month that had fallen in the center, but who’s keeping track of actual quotes.
And so with that, I’d end my story. Except for one tiny part.
At the moment, I was on my way to Oscar’s house, sent there because of a text from Cecelia that came in at nine am.
She wrote—Oscar would like to thank you for getting him gas.
I smiled as I read it. Bubbles showed Cecelia was still typing, and then another text popped up. —He would also like his change from his twenty back.
I groaned. Now, I’d forgotten about his change, but I didn’t think he was hurting for money. Still, I scrounged what I had left, plus another dollar for the corn nuts that I’d purchased, and headed over there. Frank had to go to work, so I was by myself.
I had to admit, I wondered if the money had to do more with me not seeing Oscar that night I’d brought the gas can back. Maybe it was his way of making an excuse for me to come over. We always had good conversations, and it could be that Oscar was as lonely as Cecelia had said and wanted to talk. He had two sons, but something happened long before I met him that had caused a falling out between them all. He never spoke of it and never spoke of them.
When I arrived, Oscar was already outside working on his lawn. In fact, he had it half mowed. He waved to me from behind the mower. I walked up to the porch where Peanut sat panting in one of the chairs. I scooped the pup up and sat with her on my lap.
A few minutes later, Oscar came up to join me.
“So, I hear you had a hand in catching the guy who murdered Devon Walters,” he said. He didn’t meet my eye, instead took a chug from the water bottle he’d left on the table.
“I guess I did,” I said, rather proudly.
“It was his punk friend, Jerry, who did it huh? They went to college together. Always t
he ones closest to us.”
“Stole Joe’s knife and stabbed Devon with it,” I said with a shrug.
“Huh. Never thought that guy had it in him. Always thought Jerry was all foam and no beer.” He wiped his arm over his sweaty brow. “Come on, let’s go inside for a minute.”
I followed him inside where it was considerably cooler. Oscar filled his water bottle again from the kitchen tap. I set the change on the table, quickly trapping a quarter that tried to roll away.
“Here’s your money,” I said.
He came over and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. His gaze landed on the money, and he pushed the coins around a bit.
“Georgie, I’m telling you, you’ve had me a bit worried chucking out Mikey McCoy’s name like you’ve been doing.”
I frowned. “How do you know I’ve been saying Mikey’s name?”
“I’ve got ears. And so does he.”
“Yeah, well, they’re reopening the case on Derek Summers. He was my fiancé, in case you forgot.”
He heaved a sigh. “I don’t forget nothing. Wish I could, but it’s all locked in there tight.” He tapped his head and gave me an appraising stare, before looking away. “And you don’t listen worth a hill of beans. Cecelia says you always were that way.”
“Hey, now,” I protested. “Don’t be listening to her tell my childhood stories. I was a good kid just so you know.”
He wheezed out a laugh. “A good kid. That’s not what I heard.”
There was a loud knock on the door. Oscar glanced at me and slowly rose with a groan.
He waved me off as I stood to answer it. “You sit down, now. I’ve got it. It’s my house after all.”
He had it, but I still followed after him with Peanut in my arms. I was curious who would might be visiting.
Oscar opened the door to reveal a young woman standing on the step. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, but she might have been younger. It was hard to tell. Her face was clean from makeup and held an innocent glow.
“Help you?” Oscar growled out in his usual gruff way.
“Mr. O’Neil?” the woman asked. She bit her lip, suddenly looking very unsure.
“What’s it to you?” he asked.
“I’m your granddaughter.”
THE END
Cecelia’s Pancake Recipe
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups milk
2 TBS granulated sugar
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
The secret to this recipe is to sift the dry ingredients together twice. In a separate bowl, stir together the milk, egg, oil and vanilla until well mixed. Stir wet mixture into the dry ingredients with a wooden spoon. Do not use an electric mixer.
Heat a lightly-oiled frying pan over medium heat. Pour in one scoop of batter. Brown on one side until bubbles pop on the edges, and then flip.
Your result with be a fluffy, old-fashioned pancake. Serve with real maple syrup or fruit syrups.
As a variety, place sliced banana rounds in the pancake before you flip it. Delicious!
Thank you for reading Slash in the Pan! Here is the rest of the Baker Street Mysteries, as well as a few more series to whet your appetite. Have a great day.
Baker Street Mysteries
Cookies and Scream
Crème Brûlée or Slay
Drizzle of Death
Oceanside Hotel Cozy Mysteries
Booked For Murder
Deadly Reservation
Final Check Out
Fatal Vacancy
Suite Casualty
Angel Lake Cozy Mysteries
The Sweet Taste of Murder
The Bitter Taste of Betrayal
The Sour Taste of Suspicion
The Honeyed Taste of Deception
The Tempting Taste of Danger
The Frosty Taste of Scandal
