“I’m sorry, sweetie. It’ll be all over soon. John’ll catch them. Don’t you worry none.”
“I won't, George. Thanks for dropping this off.”
“No problem, no problem at all.”
I waited until he pulled out of the parking lot and turned back down the road before I looked at the package. Fudge buckets.
Annie Phan. Again. One of these days I would remember to read the name on the package before George leaves me with someone else’s mail.
Annie Phan was a Vietnamese woman in her late sixties that had moved to the town some time ago. Her black hair, streaked with just a hint of gray, was worn short in a fashionable bob around her face and set off her deep-set smile lines and glimmering eyes in a way that always made me smile whenever I saw her. Which was starting to be every week.
Luckily for me, she seemed to have quasi-adopted me after I dropped off her package the second time, and she was a fantastic cook. I had a weakness for pho soup that was unfulfilled on the old-fashioned streets of Barrow Bay. I had started calling Annie my pho dealer. She just smiled and said that she loved to feed people. Her two sons both lived in the Bay area, although they came out frequently to see her, and the whole family had come to be an adorable addition to the town.
Unfortunately for me, whoever sent her packages thought we lived on the same street. I lived on Old Cottage Road. Annie lived on Old Cottage Street. After cursing the Mayor who didn’t want to use more diverse street names and George’s failing eyesight, I gave in to the inevitable and decided to trade pho for package delivery.
I picked up the package and put it in my truck passenger seat so that I could drop it off on my way home and went back to untacking my horse after sending Annie a text to let her know I would be coming after work. I was washing my last horse off when a newer car pulled in and parked next to my truck. It took me a moment to remember whose car it was, but when I did, I focused back on my task. If I let myself watch him approach, I was going to have trouble talking. Again.
“Hello, Larklyn.” Captain’s voice came from behind me, and I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the sight.
“Please. Just Lark.” I turned around and there he was. The same blond movie star look-alike from last night. Without his sidekick. “Where’s John?”
“He had other things to do today, and I had more questions for you.”
I used the excuse of putting away my grooming supplies to think about his answer. Something about it wasn’t right.
“You have questions and he doesn’t agree,” I threw out, and when he blushed, I knew I had hit it on the head. “Sorry, Detective. I have plans today. Can’t answer questions just to satisfy your paranoia.” I moved past him to take the horse back to her stall, and he followed.
“What plans?” I stopped and turned to look at him, my eyebrows meeting my hairline at his tone.
“I’m sorry. Is there a rule against having a life when people are terrorizing you with body parts?” I snapped.
“Not if you are following the law, but if you aren’t, I’m going to find out.” It came out suspicious and over-the-top, and even he seemed to notice. His face flushed slightly more before he lifted his chin. I guess he was sticking to his guns.
“You realize you sound like a B-movie villain right now.”
“It takes one to know one.” He gave me a smirk.
“Wow.” I blinked a few times trying to absorb that answer. I turned and walked the last few feet to the horse’s stall and let her free before turning back to him. “I can’t remember what my comeback to that was in middle school, but I know I used to have a whopper.”
“I try to exceed expectations.” He shrugged with one shoulder, shaking off the absurdity of our conversation with a slight smile he tried to suppress. I was pretty sure I was amusing the hardened, suspicious detective despite himself.
“What are your questions?” I checked my phone. Almost five o’clock and Annie’s house was only ten minutes away. I had time to swing by and drop off the package before heading to my house to get changed on my way to Gran’s. If I didn’t get stuck answering questions with the detective.
“Where were you Monday?”
“I already told John. We went through my whole day in detail. Go get it from him.”
“Why are you refusing to answer?”
“Honestly? Because that was days ago, and I don’t remember.”
“Can you try?”
“I dropped Hailey off at her father’s in the morning. I got an unremarkable lunch on the way back. I can check my accounts to get you the name of the restaurant. Came home. Cleaned house. Binge-watched any TV show I could find that isn’t appropriate for a seven-year-old. You know, generally went wild.”
“You didn’t mention dinner,” he commented as he wrote everything down.
“Really?” He looked up at my question and nodded. Great. “Wine and peanut M&Ms.”
“Peanut M&M’s? For dinner?” He glanced up at me, a little judgy.
“I do a healthy breakfast, lunch and dinner every day Hailey is here,” I justified. “When she’s gone, I tend to overdo it the other way. It’s all about balance, right?”
“I’m pretty sure that isn’t what they mean.”
It was my turn to shrug. I checked my phone again and then grabbed my keys. “I have to go. Can we do this tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not. We need to do it now.”
“Well, unless you want to ride with me and continue your questioning on the way, that isn’t going to work.”
“Okay.”
Fiddlesticks. Should have seen that one coming.
“Okay what?” Please don’t say you are coming.
“Okay. I will ride with you to your plans.”
“You want to come with me?” Shock was starting to lose out to glee. I could make this work for me. Captain at one of Gran’s dinners? The day was starting to look up.
No. I wasn’t that evil.
“No, but I would like to see what these plans are.” He gave me a flat look.
And look at that. I was that evil.
“Well, okay then. I hope you’re hungry because there will be a lot of food coming your way.”
I watched his brow lower as he thought about how food played into my nefarious plans. I even let myself smile at him as I picked up the last of my things and walked to the truck, me leading with renewed energy and him trailing with clear hesitation. I swung around to grab the package and throw it in the back seat, before going to the driver’s side door.
“You absolutely sure about this?” I asked. One more chance to run.
“Yes.” But his narrow eyes said not really. I chuckled and got into the truck, hoisting myself into the seat and shoving the keys in the ignition as he rushed to make sure I didn’t escape.
“You going to tell me where we’re going now?”
“Annie’s.”
“I don’t remember that being on the tour John gave me.”
“It wasn’t.” I pulled the truck out of the driveway and pulled onto the road heading in the opposite direction of my house, and Captain started to shift his weight. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, enjoying his nerves before I gave him one more out. “You can still back out. I can turn around and drop you off.”
“That implies that there’s a point in which you can’t turn around and drop me off.” He replied, glancing at me with his lips pressed into a line.
“Yep.” I kept it simple; I was having too much fun being the cause of the discomfort instead of the victim. “So, are you going to ask those questions?”
“Why do you think that you keep getting body parts?”
I turned on my blinker and turned left into Annie’s housing community while I thought about my answer. It didn’t help.
“I have no idea. Lindsey is right. I’m boring. I have very little in terms of a social life, and what I have revolves around Jen and my family. I don’t go out very often and when I do, I’m home before ten becaus
e I have to be at work by eight, if not earlier. Nothing body-worthy.”
“Your business isn’t doing very well.”
Ouch.
“I cover my bills. That's about all you can really expect from a training business.”
“But you own the stable, too,” he pointed out.
“Okay, that’s about all you can expect from a horse business. Especially one out here where there are so few residents to pull potential clients from.”
“Have you thought about other avenues to make money?”
“Avenues to make money?” What, like drugs?
“Yep.”
“Nope.”
“Really?” He turned to look me straight in the eye and his brow furrowed further. “I don’t know anyone who makes as little as you do who doesn’t think about making more money. You don’t have any spousal support. How are you supporting yourself and your daughter?”
How did he know how little I made and yet not know about my inheritance?
“We do fine. Don’t need more money.”
“Horses are expensive. Kids are expensive. You have an expensive life.”
“You’re telling me,” I muttered as I made a right. Two more turns and I could drop off the package.
“Where are we going?” He looked around at the houses before turning back to me. “This is a residential road.”
“1124 Old Cottage Street.” Another right and I slowed down as we approached Annie’s house.
“This isn’t your street. And I thought we were going to Annie’s, whatever that is.”
I pulled off to the side of the road and parked, turning off the car. Grabbing the package and my purse, I opened the door and got out. Captain just waited in the seat, watching me.
“Are you staying in the truck? Because there will be pho involved and it might take a little while. Your choice.” He got out of the truck slowly, glancing around at the neighborhood before assessing the house.
Annie’s home was in a new development that they had made in the ‘old’ style. Cottage chic. Urban lines with cottage details was what it felt like to me, but they sold quickly and well, so maybe I was alone in my dislike of the facade. The front lawn was neat and well-tended, the grass cut to a good length. She kept the corners sharp without any encroaching weeds like I always found in mine. I knew the backyard was elaborate and beautiful from past visits.
Annie was the kind of gardener I wished I could be. Or, at least pay for. She was always finding new ways to combine the natural flora and plants from Vietnam into a soothing hide-away, complete with a table that we’d had tea on. She always made me feel inadequate. She could cook and garden like a professional, she had impeccable style, and she did it all while raising her children. I managed to get myself dressed and convince thousand-pound animals not to mess with me. It wasn’t quite the same.
“How, in a town this small, do you have two streets with the same name?”
“We don’t. I live on Old Cottage Road. This is Old Cottage Street.”
“It’s almost the same.”
“Yep, the old mayor wanted a theme, but ran out of names. Then started to reuse the old ones with a different street type. We voted him out soon after. Not soon enough to stop this one, though, which is why Annie keeps having packages delivered to me. Most of the professionals and locals know the difference, but George, our mailman, well, he won't admit he needs glasses.”
“So, instead of pointing out the issue, you just deliver it for him?”
“Well, she bribes me with soup. What’s a girl to do?” I asked, before turning and knocking. I heard scurrying and someone yelling inside, but I couldn’t make out the words. It only took a few seconds before the door opened and Annie was there to greet us. When she saw me, a smile transformed her face, and she hugged me.
“Lark! How are you? We have been following your trouble. You poor thing.” She ended the hug by grabbing my hands and patting them. I returned her fond smile.
“You must be Annie,” Captain interrupted, and we both turned to him, me with my eyes trying to communicate to ‘be nice’ and Annie with surprise.
“Lark, you brought a man with you.” She smiled at me, her eyes sparkling in delight at this new turn of events. I guess she was on the ‘Lark needs a boyfriend’ train, too.
“He insisted that he needed to question me and wouldn't take no for an answer,” I joked. Her reaction was sudden and abrupt.
“He’s a cop.” Before the words were even out of her mouth, the door was shut and there was screaming on the other side. My jaw dropped at the change and I stared at the closed door, package in hand, for a few seconds before turning to Captain.
“Well. Do you always get such a reaction wherever you go?”
“No. Not really. Usually people like me. Just the people in this town have been difficult.”
I frowned. I was pretty sure he was including me in the ‘people.’
“Well, she liked me just fine until you showed up. Usually I would have a bowl of soup and cookies to go by now. Now I’m standing out here, like an idiot, not knowing what to do.” I turned back to the door and knocked again. “Annie? I still have your package. Do you want me to just leave it out here?” I called through the door, and I heard more movement inside the house, but no answer. I waited one more second before putting the package down on the front step and taking off for the truck, sending glares at Captain every so often.
When we were in the truck and I was turning it on, I couldn’t hold myself back anymore.
“You cost me pho,” I said, my eyes narrowing to pin him down. He ignored me. In fact, now that I realized it, he had been ignoring my irritation since Annie slammed the door in my face. That was not going to work for me. “HELLO!”
He jumped and his eyes finally focused on me.
“How often do the packages get misdelivered?”
“Nope. We are going to deal with the important part first. YOU COST ME PHO!”
“Whatever. I will buy you some at another time—”
“That would be great, but short of us going into San Francisco, there is no other place to get pho. Just Annie. You cost me my dealer…” Oh.
Oh no.
No, no, no, no.
He watched my face, taking in the emotions that I’m sure were evident. Once he seemed to think I was done, he asked his question again.
“How often do you get packages for Annie?”
“It was once a month, but recently it has been every week.”
“On the same day?”
I thought back. “Yes.”
“What is Annie’s last name?”
“Phan.” His face went white and then completely blank. Well, this just kept getting better and better.
“And her family?”
“Her husband is dead. She has two sons.”
“Their names?”
“Henry and Andrew.” His lips tightened when I said their names and I knew I was right.
Annie Phan, sweet little Annie Phan, was a drug dealer.
Chapter 9
“I need to go back to my car.” Captain pulled out his phone and texted someone, his fingers flying over the screen as he worked on this new break in the case. I checked the time and sighed. 5:45 p.m. I had two choices: make the detective happy and my grandmother unhappy or make my grandmother happy and the detective—who would leave for San Francisco at the end of this case—unhappy. So many choices.
“Sorry. You remember when I told you there was a point of no return? We reached it about five minutes ago. You can just come with me.”
“No. I need to go.” He didn’t even look up at me when he made his demand, and just expected me to follow his orders. This man needed more people in his life who didn’t jump to do his bidding.
“Ask John to come pick you up. He’ll know where you’ll be.” That got him to put his phone down and look at me.
“This is one of those small-town things, isn’t it?”
“More like a grandmother thing
. She called a family dinner tonight at six sharp.”
His face turned into a glare.
“You couldn’t have just told me that your plans were a family dinner?”
“Would you have believed me?” He opened his mouth and then closed it again with a click. His follow-up glare told me I was right. He wouldn’t have.
I pulled out of the complex going as fast as I felt comfortable with since there was a cop in my car, which meant the speed limit. Exactly. Glancing over, trying to decide how much I could push it, I noticed him typing into his phone and ignoring me. Deciding to risk it, I pressed down on the gas and brought my speed up, glancing at him every so often. He seemed engrossed, and I relaxed and let myself drive a little faster.
“I think five above the speed limit is enough, don’t you, Larklyn?”
“Can you please stop calling me Larklyn? Only my Gran uses that name.” I looked down at the speedometer and then back at Captain. “How did you do that?”
“Know how fast you’re going? It’s magic.”
Right.
“Training,” I guessed. His head bob and corresponding smirk told me I was right again.
“That’s a kind of magic.” He even lifted his head so I could see his face, before frowning at the phone again. “John can’t pick me up until eight. He says he’s busy. What could he be doing?”
“Avoiding you,” I teased before grinning and answering the question. “And driving his wife to the store. Tomorrow is the Sewing Circle, and she’s hosting it. As I heard it, Sally Mae was telling Judy—”
“Someone’s name is Sally Mae?” he asked, and I was rewarded with another glance. A judgmental one, but a glance. I was starting to enjoy seeing how often I could distract him from his phone.
“It’s a fine name, Brecken. You need to be less judgmental.”
“How old is Sally Mae, exactly?”
Eighty. But that didn’t fit well with my ‘be less judgmental’ argument.
“Over fifty.”
“Really?” He pinned me with his eyes as if he knew I was hedging the truth.
“Okay. She turned eighty this year. But she could be younger!”
“No, she couldn’t,” he muttered.
Leg Up Page 8
