The Trouble with Cupid

by Carolyn Haines

  "Oh, come on. They could be lying."

  "Maybe."

  When the officer was gone, Gregg told her he would take her home and come back and paint the doors again.

  "No way," she said. "You'll be here all night. Let me help."

  * * *

  It was after one o'clock when Holly let herself quietly in the front door of her brother's house. He'd left the porch lights and a living room lamp on for her. She was still wearing the thick Vanderbilt sweatshirt Gregg had given her to paint in and felt tired but happy. On getting out of his car, she'd given him a quick kiss on the cheek then hurried up the walk. She wondered if he was still thinking of her.

  Holly turned off the lamp and noticed there was still a light burning down the hall. Turning on the hall light, she went to the kitchen to find Ally folding a paper towel that looked to have something inside of it. She remembered Ally telling her that wrapping had been her favorite work at school.

  "Ally?"

  The little girl jumped. One in the morning was way too late for her to be out of bed, and they both knew it.

  "I was hungry," Ally said quickly. "Daddy didn't give me enough noodles for dinner. Plus no dessert except a pear."

  "Wow. That's a very sad story," Holly said. She saw her own reflection in a kitchen window, shocked to see her carefully straightened hair was a flurry of curly waves.

  "I'll go to bed now. Mommy lets me take my snacks upstairs."

  That sounded unlikely to Holly, but she was distracted and still feeling the high of spending the evening with Gregg. Why shouldn't her niece sneak a midnight snack upstairs when her mother was gone? It was so like something Holly herself would've done.

  "You go right to sleep after, okay, Munchkin? It won't be long before I wake you up to go to school."

  Ally told her goodnight and padded down the hall in her long white nightgown and bare feet.

  Holly realized she was peckish as well. It had been hours since she and Gregg had shared appetizers at the roadhouse. She made her favorite snack of cream cheese and Ritz Crackers and ate it while she checked her Facebook. Finished, she put her dishes in the dishwasher and turned out the kitchen light. As she made her way down the hall to the stairs, something crunched beneath her boots with almost every step. Squatting down, she saw a sparse line of shelled sunflower seeds leading to the stairs.

  * * *

  Trent knocked on her door in the morning and stuck his head in. "Somebody was out late last night."

  Holly groaned, wishing she'd gone right to bed when she'd returned.

  "Hey, I'm not going in until later this morning, so I'll wake Ally and take her to school. You can pick her up later," he said.

  Realizing it would mean she wouldn't see Gregg until later in the day, Holly sat up and almost said, No, I'll do it. But she decided that would make her seem too eager. Like she was getting too attached too soon. "Sounds good. Tell Ally I'll see her later. Also, there might be sunflower seeds on the floor downstairs."

  Trent gave her a puzzled look and shut the door. She was asleep again in moments.

  * * *

  Gregg was tired. If there was one thing he needed to handle a room full of five-year-olds and supervise the other staff, it was plenty of rest. The night had gone on too long because of the graffiti, and he felt discouraged and irritated. If only he'd been kept awake for a different reason, like Holly Burris staying the night with him, he wouldn't be regretting his weariness at all.

  This morning he held tightly to a mug of strong coffee as he welcomed the children. Was it his imagination, or did a couple of the parents eye him suspiciously? He tried to remember if there'd been anyone he knew at the roadhouse, but was sure he hadn't seen anyone. One of the mothers peered around the other open door to look at its front. Seemingly satisfied, she gave him a mirthless smile and hurried her son, Jacques, inside. What was going on?

  Today, the Larchick twins were running late, and their minivan jerked to a stop at the curb. The girls got out, a look of worry on their small faces, and hurried past him without responding to his Good morning, girls.

  To his surprise, their mother turned off the van and got out. She marched toward him brandishing an iPad.

  "Did you see this? How many times is this going to happen? What are you going to do about it?" She pushed the iPad at him.

  On the screen was a photograph of the school's doors as they'd looked the night before, with the obscene images blurred. The blurring made the graffiti seem more suggestive. Gregg saw the online masthead of the county newspaper above the photograph. The headline read Local School Targeted Again by Vandals. How had it gotten to the paper so quickly? Fewer than ten hours had passed since the police had come by. Would they have sent it right to the paper? Surely there weren't reporters hanging around the county police station at midnight on a Tuesday in the middle of February. What about Holly? She'd been taking pictures. But why would she send it to the paper?

  "Well?" The Larchick twins' mother was impatient for an answer.

  "It's taken care of," Gregg said. "See for yourself." He closed the door slightly to show her the re-painted door. She wasn't impressed.

  "It seems dangerous to me, you having these kind of people hanging around the school. They might show up during the day. These kids are vulnerable. They're supposed to be safe here!"

  He did his best to allay her concerns, telling her the police were working on it, but nothing moved her. He was only just able to convince her not to retrieve her daughters and take them home.

  "You need to get some security," she said. "I'll be interested to hear your plans. I think I'll organize an emergency parents' meeting.

  He nodded goodbye to her, thinking, Awesome. That will be a big help. Can't wait.

  The thought of a roomful of angry, afraid parents plagued Gregg throughout the day. He couldn't afford to hire long-term security for the school. Digital security would be expensive as well, but he'd look into finding some inexpensive outdoor cameras. Except the school's Internet was almost dial-up slow, and would never handle the data. After talking to the officer the night before, he understood that graffiti was not that big a priority for the police. The school was one small business, and they had an entire county to patrol.

  The children were settling into comfy places for afternoon quiet hour when a dark shape appeared in a closed window. Trouble sat on the outer sill, not trying to get inside, but only peering into the classroom. He seemed content to watch the children watch him.

  It gave Gregg an idea. He told the student teacher he would be in his office with the door closed for fifteen minutes or so.

  Gregg first called the newspaper to talk to the editor, Rick Hazen, who was a friend.

  "No idea where that photo came from,” Rick said. “It showed up as an anonymous drop on our contact page. We confirmed it with the cops before we put it up this morning."

  Somehow it didn't surprise Gregg to hear that the contribution had been anonymous. Rick told him they could eventually find the source, but he couldn't share the information because they promised on the website to keep it anonymous. "We'd never get another good lead if we gave people up," he said. "Sorry. I'd like to help, Gregg."

  His next call was to Holly. She picked up immediately.

  "Hi, I'm glad to hear from you. Is everything okay? Is Ally all right?" In the span of a few seconds, Holly's voice went from sounding excited to worried.

  "She's fine," Gregg said. "I think she's tired. She hasn't been her energetic self today. It's quiet time now, and I wouldn't be surprised if she's already napping. Listen, there's something I need to ask you."

  "Okay. What?"

  "After you took pictures of the doors last night, did you do anything with them? Put them on your Facebook page, or send them to the newspaper? It's okay if you did." He added that because he really didn't want to be angry at her if she had.

  She was quiet for a moment and he thought she might have hung up.

  "Holly?"

  "Why
would I do anything like that? That's the last thing I'd do." He heard irritation in her voice.

  "Never mind. Really. I'm sorry. I had to ask," he said. "I promise it's nothing personal. I didn't think you had."

  "I hope not. Who would do something like that?"

  "I think it was whoever did the graffiti. I think they wanted everyone to see it even though we painted over it. Somehow they knew we painted over it, and that no one would ever see it if they didn't do something."

  Holly gasped. "That's horrible. It's creepy as hell."

  "I agree. I've got a plan. It might sound kind of dumb, but I think it's worth a try."

  * * *

  "Popcorn?"

  Holly held out the open bag of cheese popcorn to Gregg. They'd been parked in the pitch-dark parking lot of the business across from the school since nine thirty. It was now eleven thirty and they'd already eaten the cheese cubes and grapes and miniature Reese's Cups Holly had packed for snacks. Ally had watched her packing curiously, asking why she was going on a picnic when it was dark. "Because that's the best time for grown-up picnics," Trent had said, winking at Holly.

  "If I eat anymore I'll fall asleep. Glad we didn't pack any wine. I'd be out for sure," Gregg said. "Are you really warm enough?"

  They couldn't take a chance running the car, lest the graffiti artist hear it and realize they were being observed. Gregg had been certain that the person would show up again. There'd been an online uproar about the photograph in the comments section of the newspaper's website. Most people had been supportive of the school, saying it was an innocent victim of vandalism. But a few—and Gregg told Holly he suspected Mrs. Larchick and her ilk—declared that it showed that the school wasn't a safe place for children and should be moved or shut down completely.

  "Very cozy," Holly said. "But we can't fall asleep." It felt good to be with Gregg, even if they were in a cold car, eating popcorn and taking only small sips of water so they didn't have to get out to pee. She wasn't as certain as Gregg that someone would show up tonight. Thus far they'd only seen a dozen cars go by and two people walking large dogs.

  They talked quietly, and told each other silly, juvenile jokes.

  "Wish we could sit closer," Gregg said, indicating the emergency brake between them. "You seem awfully far away."

  "I can only try." Holly snuggled against him as closely as she could, ignoring the hard edge of the console against her hip. His breath was warm on her hair, and she remembered dancing with him the night before. The car was close quarters, but the longer she was close to him, the more alive her body felt. She turned her face to his.

  When he kissed her, she didn't want him to stop. His mouth held just the right amount of softness, and his kiss was urgent and hungry. He eventually pulled away, but she tightened her arm around him and kissed him harder. Everything around them seemed to disappear. With her eyes closed, she imagined them in a cabin in the mountains, away from the rest of the world. He slipped his hand into her jacket and ran his hand tenderly up her side, touching the curve of her breast. She sighed her encouragement, and he moved again, and his hand was against her skin, warmer than his breath.

  There was a sudden thud against the windshield, and they sprung apart, breathing heavily. Holly covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She wasn't sure what she was looking at. The light from the streetlamp was obscured by something black right in front of them.

  "Oh, God. It's a cat," she said with a nervous laugh. She adjusted her bra and sank back in her seat, relieved. "You think it's Trouble?"

  Gregg wasn't laughing. "Look," he said.

  The cat had jumped off the car. Across the street, they could see a figure in dark clothes in front of the school. Gregg hadn't replaced the spotlight, wanting to give whoever was doing the damage an excuse to return. The figure stayed as close as possible to the bushes near the entrance, sticking an arm out to spray the paint.

  "Call the police. I'm going over there," Gregg said.

  "What if they're armed?"

  "I doubt it. They're a coward, whoever they are. Paint is a pretty lame weapon."

  He opened his door with nerve-wracking slowness, trying not to make any noise. Holly was glad they'd remembered to switch off the automatic dome light. She watched as he disappeared into the shadows beyond the streetlight, then dialed the police. It took Holly a second to remember the address of the school, but the dispatcher said they had the location from the school's name. She described what she saw in front of her: a person in dark clothes with their head covered, spray-painting graffiti on the school's doors. The dispatcher told her a car was on its way. As she hung up, she almost hoped that the police would get there first so Gregg wouldn't be in danger.

  But the police didn't get there first. Holly got out of the car to crouch in its shadow to watch.

  The vandal worked quickly, drawing pictures similar to the ones from the night before. Whoever it was, the vandal was no artist, but the images were identifiable. Finally, she saw Gregg step out of the shadows and heard him speak sharply. The vandal was at least half a foot shorter than Gregg, and whipped the paint can around, aiming for him. But the paint had run out, so they turned to run away. Gregg, being taller, was on the vandal in a few strides. Holly cried out as they grappled, and ran toward them, not giving any thought to what she would do. She had no weapon.

  A siren split the quiet night. The figure suddenly twisted beneath Gregg and pushed him against the wall. As Gregg tried to get up, the vandal scrabbled away, also trying to rise. But another figure came out of the shadows. Trouble, the black cat, threw himself onto the vandal’s back. Now that she was closer, Holly could see the vandal was definitely a man. He screamed as Trouble dug into his neck and back, keeping him from rising to his feet.

  Two police cruisers pulled up and a pair of cops hustled out. By the time they reached the man, Trouble had disappeared again. The man was still hitting at his own back, screaming. The officers grabbed him by either arm and forced him to lie on the ground so he could be cuffed. Holly ran to Gregg.

  "Are you all right? What can I do?"

  He gave her a thin but rakish smile. "Let's talk about that later," he said quietly. "But first I guess we get to paint the doors again."

  After a few minutes, the man on the ground was calmer. The police made him promise not to thrash anymore before they helped him to his feet. Holly was interested to see how cool they remained, and how they treated the man with a kind of patronizing respect. She and Gregg stayed well away. But once the man was standing and his black cap had fallen off, Holly recognized the nosy young man from the health food store. Wetumpka is my town, he'd said. She shivered.

  "Can you tell me what you're doing here tonight?" one of the cops asked. "This is willful destruction of property."

  The young man looked so wild-eyed that Holly didn't expect him to make any kind of sense. But he lifted his head to look at Gregg and spoke clearly, with a spike of venom in his voice.

  "You came to town and took half her kids. You're not even from around here. Miss Marian told me what you were doing. She wanted her students back, and I told her I would help her. She said she'd pay me, but I wouldn't ever make Miss Marian pay me. It's your own fault," he spat. "You should have stayed away. You ruined everything!"

  * * *

  Everything was ready. The wine was chilling in a wine cooler, Ally's mac and cheese was in the oven, and Holly was in the kitchen, showered and dressed. She was a tired from being out late and painting the school doors for a second night in a row, but it had been worth it. Gregg would arrive soon, and the four of them would sit down to a dinner of poached salmon, asparagus, and whipped garlic potatoes. Well, three of them would be enjoying those things while Ally ate mac and cheese.

  "You want a drink?" Trent called from the living room. "Bar's open."

  "Bourbon," she answered. After double-checking everything in the kitchen, Holly nipped upstairs to check on Ally. She was surprised to find her on her bed, shrouded in he
r old baby blanket.

  "What's wrong, sweetie?" Holly pressed her fingers against her niece's forehead. She didn't seem to have a fever.

  "I don't feel good," she answered. "I don't want any dinner."

  "Is it your tummy? Are you worried about something?"

  Ally turned away to face the wall. "I miss Mommy."

  Holly stroked her hair. "Of course you do, Munchkin. She'll be home in just three days."

  "I'm going to sleep now."

  Holly thought she looked too worried and alert to sleep but didn't say so. In half an hour she'd probably be downstairs, ready to play.

  "Where's the princess?" Trent asked when she return to the living room.

  "Have you noticed she hasn't been herself these past couple days?"

  Trent nodded. "I figured she's missing Andrea."

  "Maybe."

  She took the glass of bourbon he offered her and took a sip. "Oooooh, a double. You're feeling generous," she said.

  "It's a celebration. You and Gregg slew the Wicked Witch of Toddler Land. Who knew she would hire a hit man."

  Holly sat in a chair opposite the window so she could watch for Gregg's car. "Gregg says now the guy is saying he never talked with Miss Marian about doing anything to the school. That it was all his idea."

  "I've dealt with him at the health food store. He's a loon."

  "Yeah, but there's no evidence," Holly said.

  "Miss Marian's has been an institution in this town for decades. Everyone went there. Even Andrea. Miss Marian called here after we didn't sign up for her kindergarten class. She was upset, but we'd already made the decision."

  "Sounds like it was the right one."

  * * *

  Holly had finished her bourbon by the time Gregg's car pulled up. She felt pleasantly tipsy, and eager to see him. In only four more days she'd be returning to Atlanta, and she didn't know what would happen after that. They'd only be three hours apart, but she wasn't sure if they could sustain a long-distance relationship. Did he even want a relationship? Did she?