Digging Up Trouble

by Heather Webber

  Kevin held his surprise well, I'd give him that. He'd be great at poker. "You sure you want to go that route, Bill?"

  "I'm sure."

  "All right, then."

  Bill glared at me, then went back into Growl.

  "He's not going to take this out on Riley, is he?" I asked.

  "Not if he wants to live. What?" he said. "What's that look?"

  "You're a good dad."

  "But a rotten husband."

  "Maybe you'll be a good ex."

  "Five days."

  Oh God. He'd been counting too.

  "I'm sorry, Nina."

  "I know."

  I drove toward home wondering about Bill's evasiveness. Why not just show Kevin the blackmail letters? Was he afraid to admit why he was being blackmailed?

  He'd have to eventually.

  Unless he planned to get rid of the letters, deny they ever existed.

  Too bad I'd made copies.

  I wondered how soon Kevin would get a warrant. Probably not until morning. Our county judges were notorious for not liking to be disturbed at night unless it was an emergency of epic proportions.

  Maybe Kevin could pull a few strings.

  I'm sorry.

  I was too. I was still torn about letting him go for good. My heart was still somewhat attached to him, like a painful sticky burr.

  What I guess I really needed to decide was if I was ready to move on with Bobby.

  Was I?

  My cell rang, and I wondered if it was Bobby, if it was divine intervention telling me what I should do.

  I looked at the readout.

  Ana.

  Bummer.

  "Hey," she said. "Where are you?"

  "Tylersville headed east."

  "Turn around. Come pick me up."

  "Why?"

  "Jake called."

  "Jake?"

  "You know, the cute bartender. He knows what JeanClaude's been up to."

  "What?"

  "Wouldn't tell. Said something about telling me over dinner."

  "Was I even invited?"

  "Well, no. But I need you there."

  "Why?"

  "To keep me in line. I'm really going to try to make this thing with Shakes work out."

  "Okay."

  "Thanks. Oh, and thanks for not making a joke about my commitment to Shakes."

  I'd been so close. "No problem."

  I banged a U-ey, was at Ana's in fifteen minutes. She bounded into the car in a turquoise camisole and a beaded miniskirt.

  "What?" she said.

  "You're not dressed like you're trying to work things out with Shakes." I took back roads to the highway.

  "A girl's got to look good."

  "Now you sound like Maria."

  Ana made the sign of the cross. "Maybe I could put on a sweater."

  "Do you have one?"

  "No."

  I rolled my eyes.

  Ana and I speculated about Jean-Claude's job all the way to the river. I didn't bring up any dead people. Or lawsuits. Or blackmailers.

  I needed a mental break.

  People filled the seats at Paul Brown Stadium, and I wondered what event was going on there, since it wasn't football season.

  My cell rang and Ana picked it up, flipped it open. "Nina Colette Ceceri Quinn's phone. . . . What?" Her concerned gaze shot to me.

  "What?" I asked.

  "We'll be there as soon as we can," she said, then hung up.

  "What?" I asked, my palms sweating.

  "There's been an accident."

  I had a weird déjà vu feeling of Tam telling me the same thing.

  "Not Riley?" I said.

  "No. Mr. Cabrera and his new girlfriend. The girlfriend's dead. Mr. Cabrera's in the hospital."

  I exited at the next off-ramp, got back on the highway and headed back to Freedom.

  Twenty-Four

  It was one of those hot muggy July days that just promised bad tempers and thunderstorms.

  I looked around the Grabinskys' backyard and felt none of my usual excitement at starting a job.

  Maybe because this job had been started, then put on hold.

  Or maybe because today there would be no surprise at all.

  Everyone must have felt the same way because they walked around like they were tiptoeing around a casket.

  I shuddered at the creepiness of it all.

  Ignacio and his crew were working with Kit on readying the yard for topsoil.

  Kit had shown up this morning sans BeBe . . . and sans hair.

  "I didn't like the staring," he said when I'd asked about it.

  Like people didn't stare at the skull tattoo. I didn't press because, truthfully, I hadn't liked the hair.

  It was almost ten and there had been no BeBe sightings. I was adopting a don't ask, don't tell policy where she was concerned.

  Stanley Mack had enlisted Coby's, Marty's, and two of Ignacio's men to help with the deck. They were just starting with the support beams.

  Deanna was due to arrive at noon, to oversee the flowers and shrubs.

  The original sod had dried out, and Noreen hadn't wanted to pay for another load, so she opted instead to buy grass seed. The look definitely wouldn't be the same, but there was little I could do about it.

  I'd seen her first thing that morning but not since. I hoped she was off eating something because she looked like she'd lost ten pounds in two days.

  I found a quiet spot near the front porch and called the hospital. Mr. Cabrera was having tests done and wasn't in his room. Riley had stayed the night with him, refusing to leave his bedside. The two had a bond I didn't quite understand but respected.

  Then I called Ana. Again. After dropping me at the hospital last night, she'd taken a taxi home to get her car and gone back to the Blue Zone alone.

  I'd yet to hear from her.

  Yawning, I clipped my phone to the pocket of my jeans and looked around at all that still had to be done.

  It had been a late night. I'd managed an hour of sleep in a hospital chair, not nearly enough, and woken up with a crick in my neck.

  My cell rang. My mother.

  "Chérie, what's this I hear about Donatelli? The neighbors are all abuzz about it."

  The neighbors being my neighbors. My mother was still overseeing the demo of my bathroom. Promises had been made about a Sunday finish.

  "He's going to be okay," I said.

  "I heard the woman didn't make it."

  "No." The doctors had said massive head trauma caused her death.

  "What happened?"

  The accident had been witnessed by at least a halfdozen Mill residents, but it made it no less bizarre or easy to understand.

  "Seems Boom-Boom and Mr. Cabrera had been on their way to the local cribbage game after dinner last night when Boom-Boom started driving her golf cart erratically and yelling about polar bears chasing after her."

  "Polar bears? In the Mill?"

  "I don't understand it either." Mr. Cabrera had been wearing a polar bear shirt the other day but wore mallards yesterday.

  "Mr. Cabrera bailed out just as Boom-Boom jumped the curb and crashed into a tree."

  "Do the doctors think she had a heart attack? Mrs. Daasch mentioned she had a heart problem."

  "When were you talking with Mrs. Daasch?"

  "She was walking her cute little fluffy dog this morning. Very sweet lady. Nasty dog."

  I had to agree. Loofa looked angelic, but had a devilish personality.

  "Tried to chew my Jimmy Choos."

  "Mrs. Daasch?" I asked with a smile.

  "Don't be a smart aleck, chérie. That lovely man across the street, the one with the flapping robe? He said Donatelli had broken an ankle?"

  Flash Leonard. "Luckily that was all. They're keeping watch to make sure there's no internal injuries."

  "Has Boom-Boom's family been notified?"

  "I don't know."

  "I'll see what I can find out."

  Oh Lord. My moth
er fit perfectly in the Mill.

  "And I'll organize a committee to make sure Mr. Cabrera is properly cared for when he gets home. He's going to have a hard time getting around."

  "Thank you," I said.

  "For what?"

  "For being you."

  "Don't get me teary. My mascara will run. I don't need raccoon eyes today. I have too much to do."

  I smiled. "Sorry."

  "Apology accepted."

  "How's my bathroom?"

  "What's that?" She made whirry noises into the phone. "You're breaking up."

  "Good-bye, Mom."

  " 'Bye, chérie."

  In truth I wasn't all that worried about my bathroom. I knew my mother would have everything under control. Eventually.

  I called the hospital again. Mr. Cabrera was still having tests run. The doctors were trying to determine whether to operate on Mr. Cabrera's ankle or to just cast it.

  What I hadn't told my mother, and what hadn't been spread around the Mill yet, was that the doctors suspected Boom-Boom had been under the influence when she crashed.

  Of what, remained to be seen.

  I started for my truck to grab the design plan when I spotted Meredith Adams marching my way. I turned and speedwalked away.

  "Ms. Quinn! Ms. Quinn! I know you hear me."

  I wanted to start sprinting. Two things stopped me. One was that my body was an aching mess between being knocked down by BeBe the other day and sleeping on that chair last night, and the other was I knew Meredith was tenacious. She'd probably chase me.

  So I stopped.

  "I assume you have all the proper permits to be working here?"

  Kit had double- and triple-checked all the permits. We'd had to pull a few strings, and Kit even paid a little under the table to get it done, but everything was in order.

  "Don't you have better things to do?" I asked.

  Her cheeks turned red. Probably not from the heat. "Your disrespect for the rules of this neighborhood is abominable."

  I looked over her shoulder as she lectured. A small white four-door pulled up behind the utility trailer. I knew that car.

  I squinted as Mrs. Krauss got out of the car, tugged on something.

  A black something. A big black drooling something.

  Oh no.

  I started for the car, but Meredith stepped in front of me.

  "I have work to do," I said.

  I caught Mrs. Krauss's eye. She looked upset. Again I tried to step around Meredith.

  Again she blocked me.

  I thought about pushing her down, but didn't want to be sued.

  I heard Brickhouse say something in German, and BeBe took off, galloping toward us at full speed.

  "Eee!" I screamed.

  Meredith spun, saw BeBe, and dashed up the Grabinskys' front steps, plastering herself against the front door.

  I braced myself for impact and was surprised when BeBe bypassed me and chased after Meredith.

  Thoughts of more lawsuits flew through my head until another German phrase cut through the air and BeBe came to an abrupt halt and sat at the bottom of the stairs.

  Brickhouse trudged up the lawn, handed me the leash.

  "Are you okay?" I asked, despite myself. She looked horrible, with no makeup, white spiky hair every which way, and sad, sad eyes.

  "I cannot do it."

  "Do what?"

  "Stay away. I tried. All night, I tried. But I cannot. He needs me and I need him."

  Ah. Mr. Cabrera.

  "I must go. Fire me if you must. I know you want to anyway."

  "Um, excuse me," Meredith said. "Will he bite?"

  I shrugged.

  She moved toward the step, and BeBe lurched forward, but didn't go up the steps. However, she bumped into the pot of pansies, knocking it over. The terra cotta split in two, spilling soil all down the steps.

  Meredith jumped back, banging against the front door.

  I couldn't help but smile.

  "This isn't funny," she said. "I'll sue!"

  "Over what?" I asked. "Technically, you're trespassing."

  She opened her mouth, closed it again.

  My cell rang, but I pushed the silent button. "I understand, Mrs. Krauss. Just come back when you can. We will manage."

  Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why are you being so nice?"

  "Why'd you make me soup?"

  She nodded and started walking away.

  "Wait!"

  She turned.

  "What about BeBe?"

  She said something in German, and BeBe trotted over to me, sat at my feet. Brickhouse bent down, looked in BeBe's eyes and said something I didn't understand to her.

  "She'll be fine."

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Meredith dart down the steps, dash down the driveway.

  "Tell Mr. Cabrera I said hi."

  Mrs. Krauss patted BeBe's head and walked away.

  I looked down at BeBe, held out my hand. She slobbered it. I smiled. Some things just didn't change. "You made a mess," I said to her.

  She licked me some more.

  I picked up the two pieces of terra cotta, set them aside. I scooped as much soil and plant as I could and carried it down the steps. I set the remnants in the grass and made a mental note to have Deanna find a place for it.

  I turned to walk away when something sticking out of the soil caught my eye.

  Bending down, I tried to make out what it was. Some sort of plastic. I carefully dug through the soil, trying to do as little damage to the roots of the plant as possible.

  It took some doing, but I finally pulled it loose. A sealed plastic sandwich bag.

  It held pictures.

  A car door slammed, and BeBe went nuts. I slipped the pictures into my back pocket, turned and saw why.

  Tam was standing on the sidewalk, one hand on her big belly, the other shading her eyes against the unforgiving summer sun.

  "Tam!"

  BeBe took off.

  "Gesundheit!" I yelled, chasing after her, trying to catch her before she toppled poor Tam.

  "Weiner schnitzel! Sauerkraut!"

  Where was Brickhouse when I really needed her?

  "Run, Tam! Run! Farfegnugen!"

  When BeBe got within three feet of her, Tam held up a palm and said, "Stop."

  BeBe stopped.

  I huffed and puffed. "How'd you do that?"

  "I have a way with animals."

  She had on a pair of lime green capris and a large white T-shirt. Her hair was a mass of curls, her cheeks rosy.

  She looked good.

  "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

  BeBe inched closer to Tam until she was practically a pair of drooling slippers. Tam patted her head.

  "The doctor said I could resume normal activity. The baby's lungs are mature enough now so that if I do go into labor again, it will be safe to deliver."

  "Are they sure?" I was a worrier by nature.

  "They're the ones with the degrees. I just thought I'd stop by and see how the yard was doing."

  "Are you going to come back to work?" I asked, hopeful.

  Her curls bounced as she shook her head. "Think I'll rest until the baby's born. Don't want to push it. You're in good hands with Ursula."

  Hmmph.

  "Oh," she said. "I've got those books for you."

  She opened her car door, leaned in and pulled out the accounting books. She talked as we walked to my truck, BeBe on our heels.

  "At first glance everything seems to be in order."

  "But?"

  "It's really odd. On certain days of the week the store is barely floating by. On others, business is booming."

  I thought about the possibility of Bill skimming from the days' takes. "Would those barely getting by days be Monday, Wednesday, Friday?"