Killer Tied
Page 23
“I’ll need to talk with all of you down at the station,” she said.
“You’re arresting us. But what for?”
“No, I’m not arresting you, but I do need the three of you to help me put together this story.”
“We’re being arrested?” asked Brenda. She looked at me, worry creasing her brow. “Are you arresting my other daughter, too?”
Oh, boy. There were some issues that still needed to be worked through.
“Eve is not your daughter, Mom,” said Eleanor.
And then there were some issues that were resolved at last.
Chapter 24
Six months after that day in the swamp, things had settled back into what passed as normal in my life. Lionel Egret’s wound was not serious and required some minor surgery, after which he was moved into the same hospital room as Nappi. The two of them became friendly, and when they were released within days of each other, they started meeting for lunch several times a week. Talk about strange bedfellows, huh?
I awoke that morning feeling energized and decided I’d spend the afternoon in West Palm, picking up consignment items for our shops. I grabbed a pair of pants and a matching red top—yippee for stretchy material—and looked at myself in the full-length mirror we had installed on the back of the bedroom door. I had gained weight, a lot of it, but it was all baby weight. I remained as skinny as ever and now looked like the neck of one of the snowy egrets who had swallowed a large fish.
Sammy came up behind me and encircled me with his arms, his large hands resting on my baby bump. I shared with him the egret image, and we both chuckled then broke into laughter, which made my stomach move up and down as my guffaws got stronger.
“Uh-oh,” I said.
Sammy looked at me, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, but it’s time,” I said. “My water just broke, and if I’m not mistaken, that feels like a contraction.”
By the time we arrived at the hospital, the contractions were strong, regular, and close together. Less than an hour later, I gave birth, not to the baby boy that Sammy’s father had predicted, but to a baby girl.
“What happened?” we both said as I held her in my arms.
“You just had a baby,” said the doctor, his brow wrinkled in puzzlement.
“It was supposed to be a boy,” said Sammy.
The doctor patted him on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”
The family had gathered around my bed—my three boys, Grandfather, Lionel, Grandy, and Max. Madeleine and David joined us a few minutes later. Everyone was google-eyed with surprise. I guess we all counted on the ability of the Egret elders to foretell the future.
“I didn’t want to hear the results of the amnio with respect to the baby’s sex because we all knew it was going to be a boy. Because you told me it was going to be a boy,” I said to Lionel.
“Anyone can make a mistake,” said Grandy. “I, of course, knew it would be a girl.”
“Did you? And you chose not to share that insight with me?” I said. The snappish tone in my voice must have alerted my newborn to my distress because she began to cry. Actually, her crying was more like howling.
Smiles wreathed my visitors’ faces. “Just a chip off the old bloc,” someone said.
“Too bad you let me name my girl Eve. It would be a perfect name for her. She’s got your sass and your lungs,” said Madeleine. “What will you name her?”
Sammy and I looked at each other, puzzled for a moment, and then both spoke at once.
“Renata Adelaide after Sammy’s mother and my Grandy,” we said in unison.
“Are you certain you don’t want to use your mother’s name?” asked Grandy.
No. I didn’t want the name Mary for her. It was a name that had been used by another. Now that everyone knew Eleanor’s mother was Brenda, not Mary, I wanted Mary to be my mother’s name and no one else’s in the family.
Nappi and Jerry came to the door of the room. “Is there room for two more?” asked Nappi, holding a huge bouquet of roses.
“There had better be,” said Crusty McNabb. He was in the company of Shelley, who had graduated from tailor for the consignment shop to partner, buying a quarter share of the business. We still had not decided how we would handle both the shop here in Sabal Bay and the shop on wheels, but we were in no hurry to make changes. Our lives had been rather full of late.
All our boys had ridden in the junior rodeo. Jason won second place in calf roping for his age group, Jerome a third place for his, and Jeremy got an attendance merit ribbon. He was a bit disappointed, but he was younger than most of the other competitors in his age bracket. He also said his horse didn’t like him. I don’t know about that, but Grandfather and Lionel decided that there was enough property near the airboat business to graze three to five horses. We were now looking for the right ones.
I still don’t think Lionel trusts me or likes me, but we had shared some harrowing times and seemed to have developed a grudging respect for each other. I was kind of delighted he had predicted the sex of our baby incorrectly. It meant I had something on him.
We were almost finished building our own house right next to Grandfather Egret’s. There are four bedrooms with room to expand if necessary. We asked Grandfather if he wanted to move in with us and leave his place to his son, but he declined. Sammy correctly read my feelings and did not ask his father to move into our house. Lionel seemed to be there much of the time anyway, spending it with the boys, teaching them Miccosukee traditions and outdoor skills.
“Renata Adelaide is quite a handle for a kid,” Nappi pointed out. “What will you call her?”
I looked down into my daughter’s eyes, and her gaze met mine. “How do you like the name ‘Netty’?” I asked.
Her crying stopped and she let out a loud burp.
“I think she likes it just fine,” I said.
* * * * *
Creations in Fotografia by Rafael Pacheco
Lesley A. Diehl is a country gal through and through, from her childhood on a dairy farm in Illinois to college in a cornfield in Iowa. Lesley creates sassy, snoopy protagonists who embrace chasing killers in country settings, including the mountain valleys of the Northeast as well as the swamps and fields of rural Florida. She writes several series: the Big Lake Murder Mysteries and the Eve Appel Mysteries, both set near Lake Okeechobee, Florida; the Laura Murphy mysteries, set on a lake in upstate New York; and short stories, some featuring a few of Lesley’s unique relatives from back on the farm (Aunt Nozzie and the grandmothers). She is inspired by an odd set of literary muses: a ghost named Fred and a coyote as yet unnamed.
Killer Tied is the sixth mystery in the Eve Appel Mysteries. To read more about Lesley’s unusual and humorous cozy mysteries, go to www.lesleyadiehl.com.