I loved them both.
"How about dinner tonight?" he asked.
"Can't. I have plans."
"What's that I hear in your voice?"
"Bubbles," I said.
He laughed. "I think I want details, but have to run. Ma- rio's on the other line. I'll talk to you later. Hang in there, sugar. Everything will be okay."
I slowly turned right into the Mill. The back of my truck fishtailed a bit, but I managed to keep control.
Down the block, I could see a line of cars parked in front of my house.
I wasn't the least bit surprised. The neighborhood wasn't known as the Gossip Mill for nothing. All my neighbors would want a run-down of today's events, especially since they had gotten to know Kit over the past few weeks.
My mom, my dad, probably my sister, would want every last detail too. If my brother Peter lived within a hundred mile radius, I'm sure he'd have been waiting for me on the front porch, lousy weather and all.
We were a nosy lot, us Ceceris.
I checked my watch. I'd tell them what I knew, but come six o'clock, they were gone. Vamoosed. I had a date with bubbles.
The wipers swiped away a light layer of snow just in time for me to see a black blur run in front of my truck. I slammed on my brakes.
The unmarked cruiser behind me slid sideways up onto the curb. BeBe jumped up, looked around, and started barking at the critter running through Mrs. Daasch's side yard.
A knock at the window startled me. I powered it down.
"Why the hell is there a turkey on the loose in the neighborhood?" Lewy wanted to know.
"Running for his life, probably," I shouted over BeBe's raucous barking.
Just like Kit? I wondered.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman close my front door, get into her car. I blinked twice.
"Something wrong?" Lewy asked, following my gaze. "Ah."
Was that pity I saw in his eyes? Well, I didn't want it.
I shook my head, loosened my grip on the steering wheel. "Nothing's wrong. Not at all."
Out of all the people I expected to see, she wasn't one of them. And I just had to wonder what Ginger Ho, er, Ginger Barlow, was doing at my house.
Three
I parked behind Tam's Cabriolet, took a solid hold of BeBe's collar for fear she'd take off on a turkey hunt, and made my way up slippery front porch steps.
The walls to my house were notoriously thin, and I could hear the conversation inside without much trouble.
"What if he did it?" I recognized the voice of Jeff Dannon, one of my part-time employees. He was fairly new so I didn't hold his doubts against him. If he'd known Kit for any length of time, then he'd realize how ridiculous that notion was.
"Ach. He didn't." That from Brickhouse. She loved Kit almost as much as I did.
I hated that we had something in common.
"Who do you think did it?" It was the overeager voice of my neighbor, Mr. Cabrera. He loved gossip more than anyone I knew. He was fishing for speculation, and Tam bit.
"I never liked Daisy," she said. "And I can't be the only one."
"Did you ever meet her, chérie?" my mother asked Tam. The use of chérie, her signature endearment, was a dead giveaway.
"Well, no. But I didn't have to."
Brickhouse clucked. "Me either."
"So, who'd want to off her?" Mr. Cabrera pressed. He was a man on a mission for tidbits for the weekly neighborhood poker game. It used to be cribbage, but my stepson Riley had hooked Mr. Cabrera on Texas Hold 'Em over the summer, and the neighborhood hasn't been the same since.
"Maybe she had a new boyfriend." That from Mrs. Daasch, my neighbor two houses down.
"Or someone from that business of hers?" Jean-Claude Reaux, one of my full-time employees, said.
"Right, because those holistic types are so dangerous," Tam snipped.
"Hmmph. You never know," Jean-Claude said.
Jean-Claude was right. None of them knew about Daisy's freelance work—providing medicinal marijuana to those in need.
And although one would think peddling medicinal marijuana wouldn't be all that dangerous, Daisy had to have a supplier. Then there was the thought that maybe she didn't just sell to the sick . . .
And then there was the little problem of all those white pills. I had a feeling they weren't aspirin.
I suddenly recalled a conversation I'd overheard between Kit and Daisy last month.
"What you're doing is dangerous," Kit had said. "I'm worried about you."
And in light of what happened today, I couldn't shake her response: "Sometimes we have to do things to protect those we love."
I shuddered, unsure whether it was from the cold or from the memory. What had Daisy meant? And what had she been doing that was so dangerous?
As I reached for the door handle, I heard a voice from inside that made my stomach sink.
"You all can speculate as much as you want," he said, "but you have to accept the fact that Kit may be guilty. And in fact, probably is."
The voice explained why Ginger had been there, but not why she left without him.
I shoved the door open. My gaze skimmed past Mrs. Daasch, Brickhouse, Mr. Cabrera, my mother, Jeff Dannon, Tam, Jean-Claude, and Shay Oshwalter, to land on Kevin Quinn.
My ex.
I glared. Luckily, he looked deathly pale, so I withheld marching over to him and slapping him upside the head.
Guilty, my ass.
My mother was the first to break the silence. "Close the door, chérie, it's freezing!"
Then everyone spoke at once, throwing questions at me left and right.
BeBe pranced, working herself into a frenzy. I let go of her collar before she broke my arm. She took off, searching every corner of the room, stopping extra long to sniff at the duffel bag in the corner, where Kit kept most of his clothes. BeBe went from person to person. Finally, she must have realized Kit wasn't in the room and flopped down on the floor next to a suitcase.
A suitcase I didn't recognize.
But before I could question its ownership, the TV caught my attention. The sound was muted, but I could imagine what the anchor was saying as a picture of Kit flashed on the screen. It was his mug shot from years ago when he'd been arrested for indecent exposure after streaking across the fifty yard line at a Miami University football game.
Great. Now the public would think he was guilty too. Who was going to look beyond the mug shot and past mistakes to see the man he'd become?
Before everyone started foaming at the mouth, I told them everything I knew, right down to the aromatherapy scents in Daisy's treatment room.
Well, okay, I didn't mention a thing about the drugs. Not the marijuana, not the pills. I wasn't sure who I was trying to protect: Kit or Daisy.
Satisfied, most cleared out. Jean-Claude, Shay, and Jeff left first, worried about the roads. Tam wasn't far behind, especially after Ian called, worried about her driving in the bad weather.
Could Ian possibly help on this case at all? He might have information about Daisy selling drugs on a major level. As a former FBI agent and current DEA agent, he'd have connections.
I was reluctant to ask for help, though, knowing how busy he was these days. Kevin had been working undercover for him in a top secret sting operation when he was shot, and the investigation was still going on, taking up most of Ian's time.
But those pills might be a possible lead . . . I decided to call him later. I'd do everything possible to help prove Kit's innocence.
The neighbors were still gathered around, so I had to ask. "Anyone know anything about a wild turkey running through the neighborhood?"
After they stopped laughing, I convinced them I was serious.
"Not a thing, Miz Quinn," Mr. Cabrera said, gathering up his coat. He looped a scarf around his neck. It was forest green with white polar bears printed on it. "Lucky fella that he got away, with Thanksgiving being next week and all. Especially since so many in the neighborhood can bare
ly afford a frozen one."
Sadly, it was true. The majority of the Mill's residents lived on social security. It left little for the extras in life. Those who did have extra usually made up the difference by having large neighborhood feasts or preparing baskets and care packages. It was a great neighborhood, one I was proud to live in.
Mrs. Daasch slipped a shawl over her shoulders. "Think we should call animal control?"
Mr. Cabrera waved the notion away. "I'll wrangle the fella up."
I held in a laugh, imagining Mr. Cabrera with a lasso and a ten gallon hat.
Brickhouse gathered up her wrap and opened the front door. Anxiety filled her icy blue eyes. "If you hear anything, call."
It was an order, but I didn't take offense.
She added, "You want the schnitzel to come with us?"
I glanced at BeBe, aka the schnitzel. Brickhouse was the only person to call her that. Thank goodness. "Sure." BeBe could probably use the change of pace. "I'll get her later."
The house was nearly empty as Mr. Cabrera, Brickhouse, and BeBe stepped out into the blowing snow. Darkness fell quickly along with the temperatures, casting the street into eerie shadows.
Riley walked in the front door just as my father emerged from the kitchen. I hadn't even known he was there. Maria, I'd learned, had gone skiing with her husband Nate for the weekend, but still planned on being at Thanksgiving dinner for the Big Day.
Shaking the snow from his hair, Riley didn't bother with a hello. Hmmph. He'd just turned sixteen and knew how to work my last nerve.
My mother fussed over him, taking his sweatshirt (since he refused to wear a coat) and offering him cocoa, which he turned down.
My first thought was that it was times like these when I could tell he wasn't my biological child. Turning down cocoa? Insanity.
My second thought was that my mother hadn't offered me any.
Hmmph.
"Everyone gone?" my dad asked, kissing my cheek. He smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, as usual.
I looked around. My mother, my father, Riley, Kevin.
One of these things definitely didn't belong here.
"Almost." I glanced at Kevin.
My dad gave me a quick hug. "I'm going to head out. I
have classes tomorrow and need my beauty sleep." He'd recently foregone retirement in favor of teaching at a local community college. No doubt to get away from my mother, who tended to smother. All in the name of love, of course.
"Drive safely," I said.
"I will."
He opened the front door, and I waited for my mother to follow.
She didn't budge.
To me, my father said, "Good luck," and ducked out.
My gaze snapped to my mother. "Luck? Why would I need luck?" I asked. "And shouldn't you be going too?"
"It's like this, chérie . . . "
It was never a good sign when sentences began that way.
Kevin grinned. "I'm moving in."
My head spun. "I need a drink, a snack, and a seat. It doesn't have to be in that order."
My mother led me to a large comfy chair, sat me down.
"Is that my pillow?" I asked Kevin. It was propped behind his back. "And my throw?"
"Very comfy. Is this down?" His green eyes sparkled as he fluffed the pillow, obviously toying with me.
Okay, on one hand I was glad to see he was doing better. On the other, I wanted to kill him, to put my pillow over his face and suffocate the smile from his lips.
"Cocoa?" my mother asked me.
It made me feel slightly better to finally be offered. I nodded, and she hurried to the kitchen.
Riley sat on the edge of the couch, near his father's legs. "I can explain."
I looked between the two of them, amazed by their resemblance. Riley had the same shape face, the same hair, the same build. He had his mother's eyes, though, a bright blue. Leah Quinn had died years before I met Kevin, in a mysterious accident I knew nothing about. And recently I'd come to the conclusion that her death was none of my business, no matter how curious I was about it.
"Okay," I said to Riley. "Explain."
My mother brought me a hot chocolate. She must have had milk warming on the stove because she was back in a flash, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, smack dab in between Kevin and me.
I had a sudden flashback to my childhood, where she'd do the same when my brother Peter and I would go at it, or when I tried to shake some sense into my sister Maria.
"Now, Nina," she said, "this is temporary."
I sipped at the cocoa. No one made it like my mother. Just the right blend of chocolate, milk, and whipped cream. The mug warmed my hands, but the rest of me still felt cold. "Define temporary."
Riley shifted on the couch. His cheeks were still red from the cold. He'd probably been at Mrs. Greeble's. He'd been spending a lot of time there since starting work for her over the summer as a handyman. It warmed my heart, since as far as I knew, she had no other family in the area.
"A few days. Maybe a week," he mumbled.
"A week? Uh-uh. No way." Bobby's whole family was coming for Thanksgiving in six days. A week wasn't happening.
"He doesn't have anywhere else to go. I'm all he has left, and he needs my help," Riley said, his eyes wide, his voice cracking with emotion.
Jeez. The heavy guns right away? It wasn't fair. "Why not stay in the hospital another few days?" I asked Kevin.
"Because I was going crazy in there."
A small price to pay, in my opinion.
"Nina, please," Riley said softly.
I closed my eyes. Oh, Lord. I could deny Kevin in a heartbeat, but Riley? I felt myself caving, and latched onto my last hope. "Where's Ginger?"
Seemed to me Kevin and I were past the whole "in sickness and in health" vow. My turn was up. It was hers now. I didn't care if they were married or not—some things were just understood.
Like your lying, cheating ex-husband's postmedical care should be handled by his current bimbo.
Simple.
The microwave dinged, and my mother jumped up. Her lustrous blonde bob shimmered in the dim lighting, swaying in time with her footsteps. "Riley, come help me."
"But—" he protested.
"Come," she said sternly.
Once they were in the kitchen I looked at Kevin. "Ginger?" I prodded.
"Does it matter?" Kevin asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Aren't you happy to have me here? Haven't you missed me?"
At my look, he laughed, then suddenly paled, grabbing at his chest. Fear pushed me from my seat to the edge of the couch.
"Are you okay?" My hand touched his leg and heat radiated into my palm. I yanked it back.
Pain contorted his grin into a grimace. "I knew you cared."
I thought about pouring my cocoa over his head, but didn't want to waste the chocolate on him.
Truth was, I did care.
"She's on her way to the airport, home to Wyoming. Her mother suddenly took ill this morning and wanted her to be there."
Of course, he couldn't go with her. He wasn't well enough to travel yet.
Great.
My mother reappeared a second later with a plate of mini pizza bagels. Pepperoni and sausage—mine and Riley's favorite. He had one in each hand.
Sighing, I forced myself to bite a bagel, though my appetite had suddenly vanished.
"I told Ginger to go," Kevin said. "She didn't want to leave me here."
That made two of us.
I looked at my mom. "How do you factor in?"
Riley sat on the arm of the couch. "I asked for Grandma Cel's help."
Ah, this made sense. My mother wouldn't have been able to say no to Riley either.
"Plus, you know me, chérie, I cannot turn down a soul in need."
Despite the fact that she still hadn't forgiven Kevin for cheating on me. I halfheartedly wondered if she'd planned to inflict any additional pain on him while she was here.
A girl could hope.
&nb
sp; My mother folded her hands on her lap. "I'm here to change his dressings, chérie, and make sure he takes his medicine. You won't have to do a thing."
Outside, snow fell steadily. Across the street, Bobby's house was still dark.
Weeding Out Trouble Page 3
