“Hattie and Irene won’t be joining us,” Grandma said when she came back to the table.
Greta sighed and picked up her purse. “Those girls!”
“Sometimes I wish I could let go and be like them.” Virginia admitted, as she stared at them. “Look how much fun they’re having. Do you think we’re missing out?”
We all looked at the two friends on the dance floor, dancing their hearts out and laughing at Lloyd as he danced like Elvis…or was that a Michael Jackson impersonation?
“You can only be who you are,” Greta said with a sigh. “And we are not that.”
We watched as Hattie and Irene suddenly began sticking dollar bills in Lloyd’s Speedo. Yep, Greta was right. We were definitely not that.
“Come on,” Grandma said, pulling us away from the train wreck unfolding in front of us. “We need to go talk to Rosa.”
8
The café was empty except for a man in a business suit. He was sitting by the window drinking his coffee and when we walked by, I noticed he was reading the news on his phone. My stomach felt sick as Rosa came out from the back and greeted us.
“Hello,” she said brightly. “Just the four of you today? Or will Hattie and Irene be joining you?”
“Actually,” Grandma said, “no table for us today. We were wondering if we could talk to you in the back?”
Rosa’s face grew serious as she scanned each of our solemn faces. “Of course,” she said, worried. “Come on back.”
The kitchen smelled like garlic and onions, and my mouth began to water. No one cooked like Rosa. Everything she made was perfection. Her two sons were busy cleaning the grill, and her daughter-in-law was making a red sauce in a bowl bigger than any one I had ever seen. Rosa’s three-year old grandson sat at a little table in the back corner, coloring. I loved seeing how her whole family was there, working together.
“Should I ask them to step out?” Rosa asked, motioning toward her family.
We looked at each other. Should we?
“No,” Grandma finally said. “They can stay. This affects them too.”
I could tell Rosa was really worried now. She told her family to stop what they were doing, and we all made a little circle in the kitchen, except for the little boy who kept coloring.
“We thought you should hear this from us,” Grandma began, “instead of hearing this from the police.”
Now Grandma really had their attention.
“What is it?” Rosa asked, worry catching in her throat.
“There’s been another murder, and it appears to be just like Ricky’s.”
Rosa let out a cry that was more of a wail, and her daughter-in-law caught her before she went to the ground. The two huddled together while the younger girl consoled her by rubbing circles on her back.
“What happened?” Rosa’s oldest son, Ronnie, asked, as tears filled his eyes.
Grandma explained where the body was found and about the tattoo.
Her youngest son, Robert, who everyone called Bobby, spoke with fury. “They’re going to find out who did it this time, right?” He was so angry he was practically shaking.
“It’s okay,” Ronnie said, trying to calm him down. “The police will catch the person who’s behind this.”
“Oh yeah, like they did last time?” Bobby shouted. “Do you think maybe this new death will make the cops take this seriously? It’s been three years since Ricky’s death, and they’ve done nothing, NOTHING, to find his murderer!”
Ronnie tried to pull Bobby close to him, but Bobby pulled away. “Ricky died and everyone just forgot he even existed!”
“We didn’t forget,” Greta said softly. “We’ll find out who did this. I can promise you that.” She reached out with open arms, and Bobby let her hold him close for a moment. “We’ll figure this out,” she reassured him as she patted him on the back. “We won’t rest until we do.”
I saw Virginia wipe a tear from her face. She was obviously feeling the same emotional overload I was. Just when I didn’t think it could get much more emotional, over ran the three-year old. “What happened?” he asked. “Why’s everybody so sad?”
Rosa finally pulled away from her daughter-in-law. She reached out for the little boy. “We’re okay, Sam,” she said. “We just got some sad news. But we’ll be alright.”
“What is it?” the boy wanted to know. Rosa looked at the young woman, who then picked up the boy. “It’s okay, honey,” she said to her son. “Let’s walk down to the ice cream parlor and get your favorite ice cream.” For the moment, that was enough for the little guy to forget what was happening around him. He happily took his mom’s hand and as they turned to leave, she looked back at Rosa. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
“I will be, Celeste. Thank you. You just take good care of my Sam.”
Celeste smiled. “I will.”
Rosa turned back to us. “She’s the sweetest daughter-in-law. And look at my little grandson. He’s the spitting image of his uncle.” We watched as Sam and Celeste walked out the back door, little Sam clutching an old, beat-up teddy bear.
Tears rolled down Rosa’s cheeks. “If I could show you a picture of Ricky when he was a baby, you’d be shocked at how much he and Sam look alike. Some days, my heart hurts so bad all I can do is hold little Sam close. It makes me feel like my son is with me again.”
Ronnie pulled his mom close and held her for a minute. Then he pulled away and smiled at her. “You can come hold little Sam whenever you want – especially if it’s at night. That kid is a terrible sleeper.”
Rosa laughed and patted her son on the back. “You’re a good son. But there’s no way I’m giving up my sleep.”
For the second time since we walked into the restaurant, my heart swelled with the love in the room. This family worked together, encouraged each other, and made each other laugh, even in the midst of crisis and heartache.
I could completely understand why the Glock Grannies had formed. They wanted to find the person, or persons, involved in causing this family so much pain. And now I was a part of it too, and I would make sure the murderer was caught. And hopefully, it would give this sweet family some closure.
I suddenly felt stronger than I had in a long time, maybe ever. I was full of purpose. I looked at Grandma Dean, expecting the same from her. But instead I was shocked to see the look on her face. She was pale and her eyebrows were furrowed—something she rarely did because she was convinced it would cause wrinkles. Was she sick? Worried? One thing was for sure—it wasn’t good, whatever it was.
9
I was exhausted as I drove to the little coffeeshop to meet Detective Owen. He had called me right after dinner and asked if I still wanted to meet for coffee. I didn’t, but I didn’t want to be rude. To be honest, I had completely forgotten I had even called him earlier and asked him out.
As I drove to the coffeeshop, I thought about how it had been one of the longest days of my life. Maybe it was because I had seen a dead body, maybe it was because of the emotional conversation with Rosa and her family, or maybe it was because it felt like I had managed to fit nine million things into one day… Whatever the reason, I just wanted it to be over.
When I pulled up, I was happy to see that the parking lot was relatively empty. And I was even happier still when I walked in and saw they had a whole tray of fresh cinnamon rolls. I ordered two and a vanilla latte and sat at a table, thankful that I had beat Owen there.
My first bite of the cinnamon roll was heavenly. The strong taste of cinnamon warmed my body while the sweet frosting chased away the negative feelings that had clung to me all day. I was glad I ordered two. This had definitely been a two cinnamon roll kind of day.
Suddenly, I felt like someone was watching me. I looked up from my cinnamon bliss to see Owen staring down at me, a big smile on his face. “I could tell you were really enjoying that, so I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“Very funny,” I said, taking another bite.
“Is
that one for me?” He pointed to my second roll.
I didn’t answer, just stared at him like he was nuts.
He laughed and said he’d be right back. It didn’t take long for him to return with a large coffee and two of his own cinnamon rolls. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about ordering so much food, so I ordered the same.” His lips rose in a little smirk.
I started to say something sarcastic, but then I noticed how tired his eyes looked. I’d had a long day, but I couldn’t imagine the kind of day Owen had. Suddenly, I realized there was something different about him. What was it? He looked down at his cinnamon roll and sighed. He sat there for a moment and ran his hand through his hair. It looked like he needed a haircut. But that wasn’t it, there was something else that was different. He looked up at me, a soft smile on his face. “What?” he asked. “Do I have something wrong with me?”
“No,” I laughed. “You just seem different.”
“Different? How?”
I just shrugged. “I don’t know. Just different.”
Owen took a big swig of his coffee, and I watched him as he took a minute to let the caffeine get in his system. “It’s been a rough day,” he finally said.
And then it hit me. He seemed vulnerable. I had never seen him like that. He was always so strong and cocky, always in control, always had an answer for everything. And here he was now—quiet, defeated almost. I hated to admit it, but it made him seem even sexier. I didn’t even know he had a soft side. Maybe this coffee date would be enjoyable after all.
I stuffed the last bite of cinnamon roll in my mouth and watched him as I chewed. He pushed around his roll with a fork and for just a second, I felt bad not using my own. But what kind of person used a fork to eat a cinnamon roll?
“This latest case must really be wearing on you. Any idea who the victim was?”
He stared up at me, a look of hurt in his eyes. “So, that’s why you asked me here? To find out more about the case?”
I didn’t expect that kind of reaction from him. Of course that was what this was about. Did he think it was a date? I remembered how hurt I was when I first moved here and he asked me out for coffee and I thought it was a date but found out it was just so he could get some information about Grandma Dean. And now I just accidentally did the same thing to him. But wait, did that mean he had feelings for me?
He didn’t even give me time to answer. “I’m sorry, I have to run. I’ve had a long day.”
“No, wait,” I said as he picked up his plate and coffee. “I’m sorry, I was just making conversation. You seemed really down, and I thought it might be because of the case. I don’t really know you well enough to assume it was anything else.”
Owen stood there for a moment thinking it over. Finally, he put his plate and coffee back down on the table. “I’m sorry. You said I’m not myself, and I’m really not.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He sighed and slumped down in his chair, running his hand through his hair again.
“I’ve been kind of dating this girl and it’s not really working out.”
A sting of jealousy ran through me, which was absolutely ridiculous since I was kind of dating Joe…and had a fiancé back in Illinois. I started to slip into my own depression before I remembered that this conversation was about Owen, not me.
“I’m so sorry,” I finally managed to say. “Why isn’t it working out?”
His tired eyes stared back at me. I could tell he wanted to tell me, but wondered if he should.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable talking to me about it.” As I said it, I reached out and touched his hand. I was surprised at how warm it felt.
“Why isn’t it working?” he repeated my question. “Because she’s too busy making it work with someone else.”
“Oh,” I said. “She’s dating someone else? Had you guys agreed to be exclusive?”
He looked shocked. “You have to agree to that kind of thing?” He put his head in his hands. “I’m not good at this, Nikki. I’ve been divorced for five years and I don’t date. I don’t have the time to date. But it gets lonely sometimes…”
My heart broke for him. I never thought about him as a normal person…with feelings. This was a lot to take in.
“How did you meet her?” I asked.
“She works at the courthouse. I see her every time I go in there. I always thought she was pretty, and she was so funny.” He stared off, and I could tell he was imagining her at that moment. “I finally got the courage to ask her out and she said yes. Apparently, she’s already said yes to half the precinct.” He shook his head. “I feel like such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” I assured him. “She’s obviously not looking for someone to be serious with. She’s just having fun right now.”
He looked even more hurt. Clearly, I wasn’t helping.
“You’re going to find someone, Owen. Someone who will love you for the amazing man that you are.”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “You think so?”
I smiled. “I do.”
Owen heaved a sigh and apologized. “I’m so sorry about tonight. If it’s okay with you, I’m just going to head home.”
“Of course,” I said. “If you need to talk, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “I don’t know what your grandma and her friends were up to today, praying for the victim and all, but I know they’re up to something.”
He stared at me for a second, and I was expecting his statement to be followed up with the usual threat, but instead he just shook his head. “I’ll see you later, Nikki.”
Poor guy. He must be exhausted.
I sat there for a minute, looking down at the vanilla butter cream frosting on my second cinnamon roll. It was the only thing that seemed right in the world at that moment. I had been surrounded by so much sadness all day. I ate my cinnamon roll in silence and when I was finished, I was pretty sure I was carb drunk. I was going to regret this tomorrow, but tonight, I was thankful that all my troubles had been eaten away.
I left, ready to go home and put the day behind me. It was a beautiful evening and I had the windows rolled down in Grandma’s car. It was dark as I pulled out of the downtown area onto a residential street. Suddenly, a bicycle swerved in front of me. It came out of nowhere. I slammed on the brakes and hit the horn, narrowly missing the bike and its rider. With my heart pounding, I carefully got back up to speed and passed the again swerving bike. As I did, I heard the rider, or rather, riders, cackle in laughter. It took me nearly a block to realize who the laughter had belonged to. I was almost positive it was Hattie and Irene. I did a U-turn at an intersection and headed back their way just as a police car was pulling them over.
I parked the car across the street in a church parking lot and ran over to them just as the cop was getting out of his car. I didn’t recognize him, which was strange because I felt like I knew a lot of people on the force.
“You know these two?” he asked me as I approached.
“Yes, I do,” I answered. “I’m so sorry if they’ve been causing trouble.”
“Oh, they’ve been causing trouble all right.” He gave Hattie and Irene a serious look as they stood next to their bike. “We’ve had several calls about two ladies knocking over garbage cans and riding through people’s yards.”
“It’s not our fault,” Irene spoke up.
“She’s right,” Hattie added. “It’s the alcohol’s fault.”
The two women snickered like drunk schoolgirls. The officer was not amused.
“Ma’am, can I ask you to step over here,” he said, motioning toward his police car.
Irene sauntered over. “You can ask me to do whatever you want, as long as it’s not kinky.”
Hattie stumbled over behind her. “But you can ask me to do the kinky stuff.”
They laughed again, nearly falling over on each other.
“I’m so s
orry about this,” I said to the officer. “They’ve had a rough day. I can take them home, and I promise you I’ll make sure they sleep this off and they won’t be a bother to anyone for the rest of the night.”
He looked at me hesitatingly but finally agreed. “Okay, but if I so much as see them again tonight, they’ll be spending the rest of the evening in jail.”
“Understood,” I said as I grabbed Hattie and Irene by the arm. “Come on, you two, we’re going home.”
Hattie dug her feet in the ground. “But what about the bike?”
I turned to look at it. “Where did you even get that?”
“We stole it,” Irene said loudly.
I turned to see the cop shake his head as he got back in his car. He clearly didn’t want to deal with this.
I marched them across the street to Grandma Dean’s car. “Tell me where you got it from, and I’ll text Joe and ask him to swing by and get it.”
“We stole it from the grocery store,” Irene said.
“Oh no!” Hattie added. “We left the booze in the bike basket!” She tried to struggle free to run back across the street, but I held firm.
“You two have had enough! Now into the backseat! Both of you!”
They climbed in, and Irene put her head back and closed her eyes. Hattie pressed her face against the window and looked longingly at the bike. “Bike basket booze,” she whispered. “I’ll never forget you.”
We drove to the retirement community in silence. I was tired and furious. This must be what it felt like to be a parent. I made sure both ladies made it inside their apartments before I made my way to Grandma Dean’s.
When I walked inside, it was dark except for a light above the kitchen sink. Grandma must have gone to bed early, which was odd for her. I flipped on the main light and saw an empty wine bottle on the counter, and only one glass in the sink.
This case was clearly getting to the Grannies. It seemed like one by one, they were falling apart. I just hoped Greta and Virginia were handling things better.
A Family Affair Page 4
