The Trouble with Talent

by Kathy Krevat

  Joss kept his arm around me as we left the station, the November air chilling my arms. It seemed so weird that the sun was shining and everyone was going about their business when something so awful had happened.

  The car rental office was only a few blocks away and we all stayed silent until Joss pulled up in front. I got out of the car to hug Yollie. “It’ll be okay,” I told her.

  She nodded and we watched them go in before pulling away from the curb.

  “Where’s Kai?” I asked, remembering that it was Joss’s weekend with her.

  “She’s helping Elliott with costumes,” he said. “Gemma will be picking her up soon.”

  “At my house?” I asked. That was just plain weird.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Is that okay?”

  I held back the Not at all I wanted to say. “It’s fine.” My voice sounded strained.

  He didn’t pursue it. “The news is saying someone died.”

  I nodded and told him what happened. After a few attempts at explaining what we were doing there, I had to start over at the beginning of the story when I picked up Steven at Benson’s house.

  “You did the right thing,” he said, his voice sounding offended that Yollie gave me a hard time for interfering.

  I paused. “I’m not sure now. Steven’s almost grown up and knows what he’s doing.”

  He came to a stop at an intersection and glanced over at me like he wanted to argue, but one look at my bruised face must have reminded him what I’d recently gone through. “What happened after that?” he asked instead.

  I told him about Yollie picking me up and heading over there, all the way through the explosion. He stopped the car hard in front of my house, with a look of disbelief on his face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You smelled gas and went inside to save some guy you met once. And hated?”

  “I didn’t hate him,” I protested. “I didn’t think the concentration would be high enough…”

  “To explode?”

  I bit my lip and nodded. “Wouldn’t most people do that?”

  He gave an incredulous laugh. “No, Colbie. They wouldn’t.” Then he frowned, as if realizing what he was getting into by dating me and perhaps not liking it. Or maybe because that kind of thing doesn’t happen to normal people.

  “Well, I didn’t end up saving him because he was already dead,” I said.

  He reached over to grab my hand. “That was too close.”

  I nodded, remembering Yollie’s words. It could have been worse.

  “Let me open the door for you,” he said, as he came around the car.

  I didn’t really need the help, but I let him, since I could see how concerned he was.

  I focused on not limping and ended up bumping into him when he stopped. “Are you going to look into this one?” he asked. He knew my history with murder investigations.

  “No way,” I said. “Norma is all over this and doesn’t need any help. I’m staying away from it.”

  He lifted one eyebrow, clearly not believing me. Then he said, “Narrator’s voice: No, she didn’t.”

  “Not funny,” I said, even though it kind of was. I turned to the front porch to see a beautiful woman watching us.

  She waved. “Joss! I just saw the goats, and I swear they’re already bigger.” She was somehow both glamorous and athletic, wearing diamond earrings that shone through her long black hair. Sunlight caught the edge of her sunglasses, and her amazingly high cheekbones glimmered with some highlighter that I’d never be able to afford. Her cropped shirt showed rock-hard abs and her yoga pants were slung so low, they could be hip huggers.

  Dismay filled my stomach. This had to Joss’s ex-wife, Gemma. I mentally catalogued my explosion-blown hair, bruised face, and skinned knee. I couldn’t have looked worse if I tried. I stopped my hand halfway up to smoothing my hair and put it down, knowing it was futile.

  Joss stared at her, distinctly uncomfortable. He must not have thought ahead to what the two of us meeting would be like.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said, once she focused on me. “What happened?”

  Joss guided me up the stairs, keeping himself between his ex-wife and me. “She was in an accident but she’s fine.”

  I stopped and held out my hand. “Hi,” I said, proud that my voice was clear. “I’m Colbie.”

  She grabbed my hand with both of hers, squeezing a little too tightly. “I’m so delighted to meet you. Kai has told me so much about you and Elliott.”

  “Come in,” I said, working very hard to be gracious.

  Just then, my dad opened the door, looking confused at the combination of people on his porch. “What are you doing chatting out here? Come in and tell me what the hell happened.”

  “Dad,” I said, trying not to sound like my teeth were clenched. “This is Gemma, Kai’s mom. Gemma, this is Hank.”

  He blinked at her for a moment and then said, “Welcome. Kai’s a delightful kid.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “That’s so nice of you to say.”

  Joss seemed a bit dazed as we moved inside. Gemma stared around with interest, checking out the family photos that I’d recently put up in the hallway.

  Trouble stayed on the stair landing, watching the stranger intently from between the bars.

  Elliott and Kai took that moment to run out of the dining room wearing the Simba and Nala masks and singing, “I Just Can’t Wait to be King.” They even did some of the choreography before starting to laugh too hard to continue.

  “Oh my,” Gemma said at the same time Kai noticed her.

  “Hi, Mom!” Kai said. “Isn’t this mask cool?”

  I’d always thought that Kai looked like a miniature Joss, with his curly brown hair and blue eyes, but the high cheekbones and tiny nose were definitely her mom’s.

  Gemma nodded. “It certainly is. Do you have all of your stuff?”

  “My backpack’s in the kitchen,” Kai said.

  Gemma followed her for a few steps and then stopped when she saw the costume mess in the dining room.

  “It gets kind of crazy around here before a show,” I explained.

  “Of course. What a nice little hobby for all of you,” Gemma said. She turned to me. “Do you sew?”

  Was that an insult? She said it in such a nice tone that I couldn’t tell.

  “Gemma,” Joss said in a warning voice.

  He knew her better than I did. I had to assume she was getting in a dig.

  My dad answered her with narrowed eyes, “No, I do.”

  She blinked, seemingly stunned that he sewed, or maybe that he was so obviously defending me.

  Then, because we needed more drama, the doorbell rang its nerve-jangling “Yankee Doodle Dandy” song, and Annie and Lani walked in.

  Annie was my dad’s neighbor and girlfriend. She was the one who had convinced me to move home when my dad was sick, and was now a big part of our family. She wore a sparkly hat with girl power stenciled on it and carried a plateful of baked goods. As soon as she moved closer, I caught the delicious scent of bananas and nuts.

  “Hi everyone,” Annie said. “I come bearing muffins. Look who I found on the porch. Lani!” Annie said as she introduced herself to Gemma.

  “I’m Gemma, Kai’s mother.”

  Joss was looking more stressed every minute. “Kai!” he called out. “Time to go.”

  Lani slipped by me and reached out to shake Gemma’s hand. “I’m Lani.” She turned to me and gave me a hug. “I come empty-handed, but full of love.”

  “Love for those muffins,” I teased. “You can come in anyway.”

  “What’s going on?” she whispered in my ear. Today she wore a tank top with swirls in all colors of the rainbow over purple jeans and sandals that looked like they were sprouting sunflowers from between her toes.
>
  “Later,” I said with a tight smile.

  “Now, Kai!” Joss said, with a hint of desperation that I totally understood.

  Finally, Kai and Elliott came out of the kitchen and their faces grew wary, sensing the tension in the room.

  “Okay, then,” Joss said. “Out the door.” He practically shoved both his daughter and ex-wife through it.

  Kai threw out a quick, “Thank you for everything,” before Joss went outside and closed the door emphatically behind them.

  I huffed out a deep breath. “Wow.”

  “Wow is right,” Lani said.

  “She seems like a very nice lady,” Annie said, but I wasn’t sure she meant it.

  My dad put that all aside and grabbed me by my shoulders and looked into my face. “You’re okay?” he asked as if he was demanding that I actually be okay.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  He took a moment to pull me close for a hug and then said, “Muffins first or shower?”

  “Muffins,” I said. “Definitely muffins.”

  With the crowd thinned out a bit, Trouble came down to sniff at me. You stink. But she joined me when I plopped down on the couch at Annie’s urging.

  I filled them in on what had happened at Benson’s, and none of them were surprised that I’d found another dead body. That would concern me if I wasn’t so tired.

  Elliott made me tell the story twice, and asked a lot of questions about how being in an explosion felt. Then he wrote down everything I said. He’d recently heard that one of his favorite writers recommended taking lots of notes about details in your life so that he could pull from them later. He was writing a play but still thought he’d be a Broadway actor when he grew up. Sometimes he said he’d be a small business owner like me, but that he’d sell something cool like skateboards instead of cat food.

  I asked Lani to call Quincy and tell him that Norma would be contacting him and why. She readily agreed with my most likely interfering with a police investigation idea and dialed his number, but he didn’t answer. She left a message for him to contact her.

  My dad’s concerned frown never left his face. “I don’t know how you get into so much trouble.”

  “Like anyone could anticipate a garage exploding?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Not that. The whole dead guy thing.”

  I couldn’t blame him, since I had gotten involved in local murder investigations before. “This one has nothing to do with me,” I told him.

  Trouble meowed. That’s what you said the last time.

  “So we’re not going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Lani asked when my dad and Annie went into the kitchen for muffin reinforcements and probably some private smooching.

  “Elephant?” I asked. “Oh you mean Joss’s ex-wife.” My casual tone didn’t faze her.

  “Yeah,” she said. “She’s gorgeous. And she just arranged to meet her competition.”

  “She did not arrange anything,” I said. “She couldn’t know that Joss would have to pick me up at the freakin’ police station.” Then I thought more about what she said. “You think she’s trying to get back together with Joss?”

  “I don’t think it,” she said. “I know it. She didn’t dress like that to pick up her kid. You better watch out for her.”

  Great. Something else to worry about.

  “Is there something wrong with me that I’m more shaken up by meeting my boyfriend’s ex-wife than…you know?” I asked Lani.

  “Than finding a dead body and getting blown up? Absolutely not,” she said, loyal to the end. “Besides, I’m sure it’s all just compounded together. Jealousy on top of extreme panic.”

  “Let’s go with that,” I said.

  Chapter 4

  Watching the evening news was a bad idea; reporters had driven the twenty miles inland from downtown San Diego to make wild speculations about the murder of a “beloved music teacher” in the small town of Sunnyside. At least the police hadn’t released Yollie’s or my name.

  I slept badly and somehow turned off my alarm without gaining consciousness. My dad knocked on my door at eight, holding a cup of coffee. “You okay to go to work?” he asked. “Elliott said to let you sleep. He got a ride to school with a friend.”

  Trouble trailed behind him, complain-meowing loudly. You better be okay enough to feed me.

  I sat up, trying to shake the sleep out of my brain. “What friend?” I took a sip of coffee.

  “That girl who’s co-vice president with him,” he said, with a smile.

  I smiled back. We both thought Elliott had a crush on Sasha, the girl who had battled him for the position of vice president of the drama club. At some point, they decided to be co-vice presidents and with their mutual love of musical theater, had become friends. She’d been over several times ostensibly “helping” with costumes, always right beside Elliott.

  She was adorable, with dark curly hair, brown skin and brown eyes that seemed to light up when she was looking at Elliott. I think she was one of the reasons he gave in on his initial wish to have the club perform Hairspray. Along with Lani’s costumes and the drama club teacher explaining that The Lion King was an epic tale of resistance against tyranny.

  I’d made the mistake of asking him once if he “liked her liked her” and his furious denial answered me. Dad and I had met eyes and let it go.

  I fed the cat and grabbed a shower, hiding the worst of the bruise on my cheek with makeup before heading out much later than normal. I arrived at my commercial kitchen to find the parking lot cordoned off with yellow police tape, the crime scene investigation truck outside. All of the employees who normally worked the early shift were milling about on the sidewalk, under the careful eye of a lone policeman behind the tape. I was already feeling anxious because both Lani and Zoey had told me they tried to call Quincy a bunch of times and he never answered or called them back. That was very unlike him.

  Zoey grabbed my arm, making me wince. She was the strongest tiny person I knew. “Sorry,” she said. “But you have to help Quincy.”

  “Start at the beginning,” I said. “What’s this all about?”

  “Your cop friend showed up at seven a.m. with a freakin’ warrant to search the entire kitchen,” she said, outraged. “She said they’re looking for the murder weapon and anything that could link Quincy to the murder of Benson what’s-his-face.”

  My stomach felt like butterflies were having a death match in it. “Oh no,” I said. “That’s crazy.”

  “Tell that to your friend,” Zoey said. “She looks serious as hell.”

  “I can’t get in there and talk to her now.” I bitterly resented that the two-story building had only a few windows and I had no idea what was going on inside.

  “With all of those people in there, we’re going to have to clean the crap out of that place before we can cook again,” Zoey said. “You have to look into this thing.”

  I shook my head. “Quincy can afford the best investigator money can buy.”

  “Then he should hire you.” She pointed at me. Zoey hated any injustice, and this kind of problem for her friend would be at the top of her list.

  I should feel flattered that she believed in me so much, but I was sure Quincy would hire a professional private investigator, maybe someone who used to work for the FBI or something, especially since his life might hang in the balance.

  Norma came out, followed by crime scene techs holding plastic evidence bags of kitchen tools—when I looked closer I realized they had grabbed anything that resembled a sharp stick and might be the murder weapon.

  Like anyone with half a brain would actually bring something like that to work the day after a murder.

  Norma was in total professional mode, brushing by me without an acknowledgement that we were friends. Her partner Detective Ragnor gave me a sympathetic smile, but I di
dn’t know if it was because of Norma’s behavior or because my friend was in trouble.

  I wanted to say something in defense of Quincy, but what good would it do? Norma had to follow this path of investigation until it was finished even if it didn’t lead anywhere.

  We waited another hour for the last investigator to leave, grateful that they took down the crime scene tape on their way out. Zoey and I raced inside and up the metal steps to Quincy’s office, our feet sounding like thunder, while the others headed into the kitchen to put it back together. Zoey beat me by a mile, and even with all of my recent running, I was huffing and puffing when I got up there.

  Quincy leaned back in his desk chair, his hands folded over his stomach. He looked thoughtful rather than alarmed.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I didn’t do it, so they won’t find anything.”

  “Why are they going after you so hard?” I asked. “And where were you yesterday?”

  “That’s the problem in a nutshell,” he said “My wife got real upset about my little fight. After I talked to you, she made me go to an all-day yoga retreat in Julian. No cell phones. No electronics. I got home after dark to the press waiting outside my house with no idea why.”

  “Oh good,” I said. “Then you have an airtight alibi.”

  He nodded. “I do, but according to the detective, they can’t find the yogi. He took off to India or something and he doesn’t own a cell phone, so until he comes back, I just might be under suspicion.”

  Quincy’s eyebrows were furrowed. I recognized that look. He was deep in thought, exploring all of the possible ways this situation could go. When he was making a business decision, I let him have the time to think and he always came back with the most insightful statements, all the possibilities weighed against his vast experience, and then he’d say something brilliant.

  This time, I didn’t have the patience to wait. “What are you thinking?”

  He spared us a brief glance and said, “I’m wondering why there’s such an immediate big push like this. It seems to be more than me being a suspect.”

  “Norma’s been off track before,” I said. “But eventually she gets to the right person.”