D is for Drunk

by Rebecca Cantrell

  “A prisoner?” Brendan asked.

  “Because she is handcuffed.”

  “Handcuffed?” Sofia held her handcuff-free arms up. “I’m fine.”

  Mrs. Grigoryan had a knowing smile. “I see how it is.”

  Brendan looked between the two of them.

  Sofia tried to put the attention somewhere else. “So, Mr. Grigoryan, the case you are offering us is to look for your missing water?”

  “And to make Marcel choke on it.” He smiled.

  “We’ll look into it and get back to you by the end of the day,” Brendan said.

  He rose to his feet and ushered them out of his office.

  Mrs. Grigoryan stayed behind. She patted Sofia on the arm. “You are a clever girl.”

  “Clever?” Sofia asked.

  Mrs. Grigoryan laughed. The sound was much too big for her little round figure, full of mischief and knowing. “And maybe a little bit naughty?”

  Brendan was ahead of them, talking to Mr. Grigoryan in his soothing voice, clearly trying to calm him down and have him stop worrying about his neighbor. Mr. Grigoryan handed him a folder.

  “These are my water bills,” he said. “See them for yourself.”

  “I will,” Brendan promised. “And we will call you later. But please remember what I said about keeping a cool head.”

  Everyone shook hands with everyone, Sofia shaking hands a little more vigorously than usual to make up for not shaking hands when everyone came in.

  Mrs. Grigoryan held her hand for a long moment and smiled. It was more than a little creepy.

  CHAPTER 5

  T he door had barely closed behind them when Aidan spoke. “We have to take that case, Dad.”

  “Neighbor cases are trouble, you know that. How many times were you called out on them when you were on the force?” Brendan folded his arms. “I saw my first kid shot on a neighbor beef.”

  “Really?” Sofia asked.

  “One neighbor had a dog that always barked. The other neighbor stormed over to shoot the dog, missed and hit the kid. He ended up in a wheelchair, and the guy who shot him wanted to go back for the dog.”

  “Yikes.” She was feeling grateful for her sheltered upbringing. None of their neighbors ever shot at them.

  “Fighting neighbors are a lot like a domestic dispute in a lot of ways,” he said. “Volatile.”

  “They’re a mess, I agree,” Aidan said. “And if we had anything better to work on, I’d say we shouldn’t take one, but we don’t. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “It’s a slump,” Brendan said. “Businesses go through slumps.”

  Sofia hadn’t been too worried about the recent slowdown at work. Now, she was.

  “We can’t be so picky,” Aidan said. “Not if we want to keep paying rent.”

  “And expensive car payments?” Brendan asked.

  “The Lemon Drop isn’t that expensive,” Aidan said. “I got a deal.”

  “You named your car?” Sofia said. “The Lemon Drop?”

  “What’s your car called? Herbie?”

  “Herbie is white,” she said. “My car is red. And it’s called a Tesla Roadster. It doesn’t need a name, because it’s not a pet.”

  Although she was now trying to think up a cool name for it. Wonder Woman’s plane was called the Wonder Dome. She liked the sound of that, but she was pretty sure Aidan could get a lot of mileage out of it. Maybe she ought to call it Christine, after the car in the Stephen King novel. She was red. And Christine would eat a car named Lemon Drop for a tasty snack.

  “What was going on with you during the interview?” Brendan turned his scowling cop eyes on her.

  “Nothing?” She didn’t like lying to him.

  “This isn’t about Sofia being fidgety.” Aidan came to her rescue. “This is about us taking on a new case. The guy’s loaded. Did you see his suit? Plus the Mercedes and the vineyard. He can pay our fees.”

  “This kind of situation can turn ugly,” Brendan said. “Best to calm things down, not rile them up.”

  “Let’s look through his bills, talk to the water company. Maybe we can find a peaceful solution, leave everyone happy,” Aidan said. “It doesn’t have to get volatile.”

  She had a feeling Mr. Grigoryan was angry about something that ran deeper than the water, but she didn’t say anything. Something about Mrs. Grigoryan had her on edge.

  “I’ll look into it,” Brendan said. “See if there’s anything easy we can do, and we’ll go from there.”

  That was his my-word-is-law voice. She wasn’t going to argue with that. Aidan looked like he wanted to, but before he could get started, Brendan said, “I’d like you to use the free time you’ve been telling me about to upgrade the software on the office computers, get the printer serviced.”

  Aidan hated doing that kind of stuff. Sofia stifled a smile.

  “And I’d like you to go over the case reports for the past six months, Sofia,” Brendan said. “See if you can learn something about procedure.”

  He swept back into his office and closed the door. He sure wasn’t happy about the prospect of having to take this particular case.

  She made a mental list while she was supposed to be reading the reports. It was called ‘Reasons Why Brendan is So Crabby.’

  Because he’d seen a neighbor dispute turn into a bloodbath.

  Because the agency really was running low on money, and he’d have to let them all go, starting with her.

  Because his underwear was too tight.

  CHAPTER 6

  Sofia looked around at her sister’s immaculate kitchen. Emily was making spaghetti and meatballs, and a giant pot of spaghetti sauce simmered on the stove. It smelled like heaven.

  “I’d love a glass of wine,” Sofia told her sister as she snuck a spoonful of sauce out of the pot. The sauce tasted even better than it smelled—tomato, basil, oregano, and a bunch of mystery spices only Emily knew. “A big one.”

  Emily took the spoon off her and put it in the sink. “Rough day at work?”

  She thought about her really rough days at work—when people kidnapped her, shot at her, or humiliated her in public. “Even worse. A boring one. But the morning was good.”

  Emily poured her a glass of red and handed it to her. “Tell me about your morning. I had to start off talking to Van’s teacher because he took apart the sprinkler system and flooded the classroom.”

  “Was he in much trouble?”

  “Not for Van, no. Anyway, tell me about your morning.”

  “I went swimming at the beach in front of my house.” She took a sip of wine. “And—”

  The kitchen door burst open, and two blond kids came flying through. She set her wineglass on the counter to intercept them.

  “Auntie Sofia!” Violet hugged her around the waist. With her blond curls and cherubic face, Violet had the face of a seven-year-old Shirley Temple, but she had the temperament of a professional wrestler.

  Van grinned and waved. “Hey!”

  Playing it pretty cool for a six-year-old.

  “Hey back!” Sofia tousled his hair.

  Emily’s husband Ray came in behind them. “Good to see you, Sofia.”

  “You, too,” Sofia said.

  Violet bounced up and down on her toes. “Wanna see my new move?”

  “Will it hurt?” Sofia looked at Van instead of Violet. If Van flinched, she didn’t want to see it. Van shrugged.

  “It’s called the samurai slice, and it won’t hurt unless I have a sword. Which I would be very responsible with.” Violet looked hopefully at her mother, but Emily shook her head.

  Violet pouted for a second, then dropped into a samurai stance, lifted an invisible sword up, and slashed it straight through Sofia’s abdomen.

  “I’d be in bad shape if that were a real sword,” Sofia said.

  “Your guts would spill right out onto the floor in a twisted mess. I read it in a book.” Violet lowered her sword, bowed, and dashed off.

  “Where would
she get a book like that?” Emily gave Ray a look.

  “Not me.” He backpedaled out of the kitchen, pulling Van along with him.

  “You were saying, about your morning,” Emily said.

  Sofia told her about the latest client and his neighbor problems.

  “The neighbor over on that side,” Emily pointed with a wooden spoon, “likes to walk around his yard naked whenever there’s a full moon. Sometimes he howls. Ray went over and talked to him about it. He says he’s taking moon baths.”

  “Well, you guys are definitely getting mooned.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Aidan.”

  “I know.” She really had.

  Emily stirred her sauce. “When was the last time you had a date?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Violet spilled in through the door with Van right behind her.

  “Tomorrow?” Violet asked. “Do you need me to show you some self-defense moves?”

  “What did I say about listening at the door?” Emily asked.

  “Not to do it.” Violet had already assumed her stance.

  “What’s this guy’s name?” Van crossed his arms and tapped his foot. He looked like the disapproving dad Sofia never had.

  “Action,” Sofia said.

  “What?” Emily nearly dropped her spoon.

  Damn Aidan for putting that into her head. “Jaxon. I meant Jaxon. Jaxon Ford.”

  “How did you meet?” Van wasn’t dropping his scowl. Sofia felt bad for Violet’s future boyfriends.

  “And do you remember the Nutcracker?” Violet asked. “That one’s always handy.”

  Yup, Sofia felt sorry for those future boys for a lot of reasons. “I saved his life.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Sofia had finished her story, promised that Van and Violet could come to the Riders of Randorin, and ordered three more tickets on her phone. Saving Jaxon’s life was getting expensive.

  A man in a three-piece suit walked into the backyard of the house next door. He looked like a banker. Sofia raised her eyebrows and looked over at Emily. Emily pretended to howl at the moon.

  Sofia was grateful her neighbors were Tex, the retired Texas wildcatter, and Gray Cole, the movie star. Tex constantly gave her advice on men and lingerie and weapons. Gray played every women’s dream on screen, but really throbbed for other men. He and Sofia were good friends and she’d stood by him while he dumped one weeping lingerie model after another. He was also a constant source of industry gossip, fashion advice, and fancy tea. Tex and Gray seemed so normal compared to what everyone else had to deal with.

  Dinner was delicious. Only one glass broke, Van’s, one plate of spaghetti dropped, Sofia’s with a strong assist from Violet, and Sofia snagged the last piece of garlic bread. She’d swallowed the last bite before Violet said, “Are you and Maloney, Jr. getting married?”

  Ray had a meatball go down sideways, and Emily pounded him on the back and handed him a glass of milk.

  Sofia didn’t say anything and hoped the moment would pass.

  As if.

  “Well?” said Van. “Are you?”

  “I think your father should chew more carefully,” Sofia said. “Are you OK, Ray?”

  “Will you be Mrs. Maloney?” Violet swiped her napkin across her face. “Can I be your Best Man?”

  “Maid of Honor,” her mother corrected.

  “There’s not going to be a wedding. I’m not dating Aidan Maloney. We’re just colleagues. I’m going out for the first time with Mr. Jaxon Ford tomorrow. Maybe you can be Maid of Honor at that wedding.”

  “I want to be the best, not the maid,” Violet said. “Let Van be the maid of honor.”

  “I’m too messy to be a maid. Maids clean things up.”

  “Bed-time.” Ray rose from the table. “I’ll take these two up, and let you have some time for girl talk.”

  Emily smiled over at him. Both she and Sofia knew the endurance event that lay ahead of him. Ray was a good guy.

  He turned to the kids. “Last one in bed is a rotten egg.”

  They flew up the stairs.

  Emily took a slow sip of wine. “How does Aidan feel about Jaxon?”

  “Why should he feel anything?”

  “So, he hasn’t done a full search of Jaxon’s background, turned up a fatal flaw, and suggested you’d be better off dating someone else?”

  Sofia laughed. “He did do a background search, actually, and told me Jaxon checked out. He must be squeaky clean, because Aidan couldn’t find a single piece of dirt on him, except for one parking ticket he paid late, which Aidan said might be a sign of a disregard for the rules, or deep-seated irresponsibility.”

  Emily smiled. “Aidan’s a tough grader.”

  “Then he gave me a long lecture about the dangers of dating people you don’t know anything about. Not because they might be serial killers, which is Mom’s standard lecture, but because they might waste your time. He said dating needs to be more directed.”

  “He does have a complicated system for it.” Emily laughed.

  “Did you know he’s signed on to a new dating site?”

  Emily shook her head. “How many does that make?”

  “Ten. But he claims this one is different. It’s called the Science of Love, and you have to fill out a psychometric test. It’s a hundred pages long.”

  “At least it weeds out people with short attention spans.”

  “I think picking up guys drowning in the ocean is probably as good.” She remembered Jaxon’s long muscular leg spread across the board. “Maybe better.”

  “Maybe you guys are both trying too hard. Maybe love is right in front of you.”

  “Maybe it’s time to clear the table.” Sofia began stacking plates.

  Emily watched her work, with that enigmatic smile Sofia hated.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sofia read through the papers on her lap one more time. They were Mr. Narek Grigoryan’s water bills. As he’d said, the costs had gone up ten percent three months ago and had stayed high. They had been pretty consistent before. She glanced out the window again. Aidan had moved all of three car lengths.

  “If you switch into the left lane, it’s moving,” she said.

  “No point in stressing out the Lemon Drop. That lane will stop moving soon, and then this one will start moving. That’s how it works.”

  “You drive like my grandmother.” In point of fact, Sofia’s grandmother had been a very adept driver—much faster and more comfortable with risk than Aidan.

  “Sounds like a wise woman.”

  She wasn’t going to get the car moving any faster unless she conked him on the head and tossed him onto the PCH, which didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “These bills show Mr. Grigoryan is right about his water costs. Maybe someone is stealing from him.”

  “Or maybe he has a leaky pipe. Or the water company has a bad meter.” Aidan inched forward another car length. “Don’t make assumptions.”

  “Speaking of assumptions, how was your scientifically calculated perfect date last night?”

  “What makes you think I had one?”

  “Because it was Wednesday.” He went out on dates on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He’d once told her those were the statistically best nights to date. She’d mercifully forgotten why.

  “We were scientifically compatible.” His jaw tightened.

  “Your voice says there wasn’t any chemistry,” she said.

  “It’s not about chemistry. It’s about science.” The car moved forward a foot.

  A jogger on the beach was moving faster than them. She’d needle him a bit more. “Chemistry is a science.”

  Instead of answering, he tapped his phone and country music filled the car—Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow up to Cowboys as sung by Waylon Jennings. Picking the most annoying reaction, she sang with old Waylon right up until they got off the highway at Cross Creek Road. They drove past a Starbucks, and she had a craving for coffee, but she’d
already had a cup this morning. Maybe she was addicted.

  They turned left on Civic Center Way. She’d never been to the water company, but the library was up this way. Aidan parked across from a white building with columns in front. Not fancy Greek columns, more like giant white matchsticks. Golden hills rose up behind the building. Expensive houses perched on top of each nearby hill.

  “I brought you along because Dad told me to,” Aidan said, “and I need you to wait in the car.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll get in the way,” he said.

  “How?”

  He took a yellow folder off the dash, opened the door, and got out. She hopped out and followed him. He stopped. “Just wait in the car. Please.”

  Aidan didn’t often say please. Like almost never.

  “OK,” she said.

  He headed off to the water building. She followed him, pretending to turn toward the library, but doubling back. If Aidan didn’t want her to see what he was up to, it had to be good. Plus, she was never going to learn anything if he made her wait in the car all the time. This was a chance for her to practice her surveillance skills.

  He walked through the building as if he’d been there a thousand times. Why would he have spent time at the water building before? She kept back, worried he would turn around and catch her.

  He walked into an office and stopped in front of a desk. The desk held a neat pile of paper, a computer monitor, and a sprawling fern. Why was everyone else better with plants than she was?

  She was next to the doorway by a spinning rack of brochures. The rack was too short to cover her completely, and she’d look ridiculous if she crouched behind it. She knelt and pretended to tie her shoe, listening for all she was worth.

  She glanced up at the flyers in the rack. They were mostly about water conservation, but she snagged one about checking for leaks in your pipes. That might come in handy, and she didn’t think Aidan had come here for the literature.

  Sofia sneaked a quick glance, then hid behind the brochures again. Her suspicions were confirmed. A woman in a tight blue dress had emerged from another office and bounced along toward Aidan, flipping blond hair behind her shoulders. Another of Aidan’s conquests? That must be why he’d wanted her to wait in the car, so he could flirt to get the information he needed and he thought Sofia would cramp his style.