Weeding Out Trouble

by Heather Webber

  The teapot whistled. I poured water into two mugs. Cocoa for me, tea for Brickhouse. "Actually, I did."

  "And?"

  "They laughed."

  She clucked.

  "But they did promise to look into Randall."

  Not that I had any faith whatsoever they would. I added a heaping mound of whipped cream to my cocoa, and Brickhouse added a touch of milk to her tea.

  We sipped in silence until the doorbell rang. I heard ex cited barking from upstairs, then silence. Riley seemed to have a magic touch with BeBe that I lacked.

  Peeking out the front window, my eyes widened. I pulled open the door.

  "Hello, Nina."

  "Mrs. Greeble. Come in."

  Pain creased her features with each of her steps. I automatically took her arm, led her to the kitchen and into a chair at the table. "Would you like some tea?"

  She shook her head.

  "Coffee?"

  Again, no.

  "Cocoa?"

  Her watery eyes lit. "That would be lovely."

  Her cheeks drooped and her skin had a yellowish, unhealthy undertone.

  Bobby was right. She didn't look well.

  "I came," she said, "to see how Riley was feeling."

  Brickhouse levered herself off the counter stool and sat across from Mrs. Greeble at the table. "Not so good," she said.

  "Certainly not the bird flu, as Maisie is telling everyone?"

  "No," I said. "Just some sort of flu."

  She nodded.

  The teapot whistled quickly, the water still fairly hot. I made a cup of hot chocolate, without the whipped cream, per Mrs. Greeble's request.

  "I was going to come see you today," I said, sitting next to her. I wrapped my hands around my warm mug.

  "I'm not surprised. Frankly, I expected a visit sooner. Gossip spreads so quickly in this neighborhood."

  Her eyes held a spark of intelligence. She arched a thin white eyebrow at me, telling me quite plainly that she knew I knew.

  "You did a good job of keeping your hobby quiet. Mr. Cabrera doesn't know about it, and you know he's the one who spreads the news."

  She spared a glance at Brickhouse. "I'm sure he knows now."

  "Ach. I didn't tell him. It would hurt his pride if I learned something before him."

  Mrs. Greeble smiled weakly and sipped her cocoa.

  I pulled my legs onto the chair, tucked them under me. "Do you mind if I ask why?"

  "Money, Nina. It's as simple as that. I needed some." She drew in a shaky breath, set her mug on the table. "You may have noticed I'm not in the greatest of health. Bills mount. I should have sold my house long ago. Now it needs many repairs before I can sell, and I need money for the repairs. Winter is coming, my furnace is on the fritz, the windows are single-paned, and my roof leaks."

  It was a familiar story in the Mill. Most pensions were pitiful, social security barely enough to pay bills. There was little or nothing for the extras.

  "I don't have long to live," she said matter-of-factly.

  My breath caught.

  Brickhouse put her mug down, leaned in.

  "Don't feel sorry for me," Mrs. Greeble said. "I've lived a good life. A long one."

  "Do you have children?" Brickhouse asked her.

  "Never blessed. There's no one left but me."

  My heart hurt for her. I wished I had an iota of her dignity when old and faced with the knowledge that I would die soon.

  "My hope with the poker was to raise enough money to move to an assisted living home. Nobody likes to ask for handouts. I really don't want to be a burden to my family."

  "But you said—" I began.

  Thin lips pulled into a smile. "This neighborhood is my family. Riley, you, Donatelli, Flash, even Maisie, though she's a pain in the ass."

  I smiled. She really was.

  "To me, a family is made up of people who love and care and nurture each other, it's not always blood that bind people together. Be that as it may, everyone has their own burdens. They don't need mine to add to them."

  "You know we don't—"

  She held up a bony hand. "It's the way I wanted it. However, it's not the way it's to be. I need to put an end to my 'hobby,' as you call it. I'm too ill to take proper care of things. The dealer I hired has been stealing from me."

  "Ach," Brickhouse said.

  "And I certainly can't report him." Softly, she said, "It's best to close the doors forever."

  "We'll help you with anything you need," I said.

  She rose on shaky feet. "No need. I'll be just fine."

  Brickhouse and I shared a look. Neither of us believed her for a moment.

  I had the sinking feeling that when she said it was "time to close the doors forever," she wasn't just referring to the poker. I needed to buy time so I could think of something, do something . . .

  My mother's words echoed suddenly in my head.

  It's time for you to learn, perhaps, that sometimes people need to fix themselves.

  I shook them out. This wasn't one of those times. It just wasn't. I refused to let it be.

  I jumped to my feet. "Well, I hope you'll accept my invitation to our Thanksgiving dinner. There will be plenty of food." Please, God, let there be plenty of food. "Plenty of company."

  "I don't—"

  I pulled my trump card. "It would mean a lot to Riley. I'm sure he'll be well by then."

  Her eyes met mine, hers pure steel. "You play dirty, Nina."

  "I know."

  She smiled. "Thursday. But only because Riley has been such a blessing to me."

  Brickhouse offered to escort her home, while I roused Riley for his doctor's appointment.

  "Who was at the door?" he asked.

  "Mrs. Greeble," I said.

  His face paled. I looked at him long and hard. "She's a nice woman."

  He blinked. "Yeah. She is."

  "I'll meet you downstairs."

  In the kitchen, I rinsed the mugs, set them in the dishwasher.

  Pulling in a deep breath, I knew what I had to do.

  I picked up the phone.

  It was time to call in a favor.

  I was in line at the pharmacy, picking up a prescription for Riley's strep throat, when Tam called.

  "Did you find anything?" I asked her.

  "I've got Randall Oh's home phone and address, and also the phone and address of his mother since you mentioned he said he's there a lot. Where better to hide out?"

  Smiling, I thought of the conversation I'd had with Perry days earlier. Pulling out my receipt from Kroger the other day, I wrote down the information she found and tucked it into my pocket.

  "Thanks, Tam. I owe you."

  "Knowing this might help Kit makes me feel better."

  I paid the pharmacist and headed for my truck, antibiotics in one hand, cell phone in the other. "Did you hear about the murder of Kent Ingless?" I asked.

  "It's been on the news all day. The media coverage made the leap from Kent to Daisy to Kit. It makes me sick. I've been trying to reach Ian about it, but he's not answering."

  "There's a lot of that going on today." I told her how I hadn't been able to reach Ana.

  "That's strange."

  "I know. I'm going to drop Riley off then head over to her place."

  "Let me know, or I'll worry." A wail split the air. "Oh, there's Niki up from her nap, gotta go."

  I hung up and climbed into my truck. Riley had his head against the window, his eyes closed.

  As I turned into the Mill, I caught sight of the fugitive turkey running into the woods. Looked like the SPCA hadn't had any luck in catching the tom.

  I drove a little farther down the street and frowned as I pulled up to my house. Unmarked police cars were parked bumper-to-bumper at the curb.

  Turning into the drive, I noticed my front door wide open, a swarm of people inside.

  This didn't bode well.

  I parked behind my mother's car and gently woke Riley. I didn't know what was
going on, and decided it might be best if he went over to Bobby's house until I knew what was happening.

  He didn't complain, which was a miracle in itself. I watched him cross the road, knock, and go inside without waiting for the door to open.

  Ordinarily I'd have been testy about his lack of manners, but right now I had more important things to worry about.

  I took the front porch steps two at a time. No one seemed to pay me any notice. I spotted Kevin and Ian speaking with Lewy and Joe and several other men I didn't recognize.

  My mother stood in the kitchen, surrounded by empty sacks from Kroger. There wasn't a frozen turkey to be seen. She paused from unpacking when I came in.

  "Can you believe the hullabaloo?" she asked.

  "Who are they?"

  "FBI, DEA? I'm not sure."

  I peeked into the living room. "What's going on?"

  "Not a clue. They're all very hush-hush. I had to put BeBe outside on her run. She kept jumping on everyone. How's Riley?"

  "He's okay. Nasty case of strep throat. He'll be back to his old self in no time."

  Pity too, because he'd been kind of lovable lately.

  "That's good news. Where is he?"

  "At Bobby's. What are you making?"

  "Chinese! Dumplings and rice."

  I looked at the plethora of ingredients. It was going to be a lot of work. "We could have ordered in."

  "Where's the fun in that?"

  "Isn't it a little early for dinner?"

  "Prep, dear. Dinner will be at seven-thirty sharp."

  My mother was a stickler for dinner times.

  I left her putting odd-looking ingredients into the fridge. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a wide arch that led into the living area. Leaning against the thick framework, I tried to eavesdrop. It wasn't as easy as I would have hoped. Fortunately, Ian spotted me and came over.

  "Something's happened," I said. "What? Did you find out what happened to those missing pills?"

  "The pills turned up in the storeroom. No one can tell me why they weren't mentioned in the file."

  "Then why are you here?"

  He dropped his voice. "Ballistics has come in on the bullet pulled out of Daisy."

  I was glad I had the arch frame for support. Something about the no-nonsense way he spoke made my knees weak with the imagery. "And?"

  "Nina, the bullet came from the same gun that shot Kevin."

  I straightened, his words slowly sinking in. I tried to make sense of it. "Whoever shot Kevin also shot Daisy?"

  He nodded.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "I can't say."

  "Can't or won't?"

  "Can't."

  My mother had stopped fussing with dinner and was clearly listening, hanging on every word.

  Ian looked over his shoulder and nudged me farther into the kitchen, out of prying eyes.

  My head swam, little bits of information clinging together so they didn't drift away.

  Kevin had been working for Ian, undercover.

  Ian was a DEA agent.

  Daisy was suspected of selling drugs.

  The link came quickly. "You lied to me! You knew all along Daisy was involved with the Corazón!"

  "Come on, Nina. Don't be mad."

  "Don't be mad? How can I not? Kit's life is at risk. Kevin was investigating Heavenly Hope while undercover for you when he was shot, wasn't he?"

  He didn't say anything.

  But his silence said everything.

  I put my hands over my face, rubbed my temples. "What was Daisy involved with? Surely not just marijuana and Ecstasy?"

  "Daisy was the middleman in a very dangerous drug ring. She supplied the drugs to the street, through Heavenly Hope."

  "How was Kent involved?"

  "Kent was a chemistry whiz. He made a lot of the stuff Daisy sold."

  Aha! So my hunch had been proven right. "Was she really involved with him, personally?"

  "According to sources, she fell for him."

  I shuddered.

  "I know. He wasn't a nice man."

  "So, what now?" I asked. "Who killed them?"

  "We don't know, Nina. We're still looking for the mastermind of the ring."

  "Obviously, Kit's not a suspect anymore."

  He didn't say anything.

  "Right?" I asked.

  Ian dropped his voice. "Let's take this outside," he said.

  Nineteen

  I followed Ian out the back door. I motioned him to my truck and we both climbed in. The inside was still warm.

  I saw my mother watching from the kitchen window.

  "Kit can't possibly be a suspect, Ian."

  "The police think differently."

  "How can they? What does Kit have to do with drugs? Nothing."

  "You're wrong about that."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "I don't believe it. Not for a second."

  "It's not what you're thinking, Nina."

  "Then please explain."

  "I know Kit is innocent." He picked at his thumbnail. "What I'm about to tell you could get me fired. Hell, I don't know why I'm telling you at all."

  I guessed it had something to do with Tam and wanting to sleep with her again.

  "Kit was an informant for me, Nina. Daisy wanted out of the drug system and couldn't do it alone. Kit came to me for help. Kevin was already on the case."

  "So Daisy was killed because she wanted out?"

  "Yes."

  "And Kevin was shot . . . why?"

  "Honestly, I'm not sure. If it wasn't for ballistics, we might not have tied the two cases together. He was looking into Heavenly Hope but only had one appointment with Daisy when he was shot."

  "Maybe she recognized him?"

  "No. He was well-disguised."

  There had to be a link. Had to.

  "Nina, this situation is getting out of control. Someone is running scared, killing off people they feel might incriminate them. You need to stop snooping and stay put. You should be safe here at home with Kevin and Detectives Zalewski and Nickerson watching over you."

  Something in his tone made me pay extra attention to the way he'd spoken. "What do you mean, watching over me?"

  Looking like he'd been caught red-handed, his chin dropped a notch.

  "Oh . . . my . . . God. Kevin didn't come here to recuperate, did he?" I raised my voice when Ian didn't answer. "Did he?"

  "No."

  "And Lewy and Joe? They weren't following me to find Kit. They were following me to protect me? Bodyguards? Whose idea was that? Wait. Kevin's, right?"

  I recalled Kevin's phone call with Ginger. Something about how "she didn't have a clue." The "she" had been me not knowing why he really came to my house.

  "We thought it best, Nina. You have a tendency to get into trouble."

  "Out! Get out!"

  "Nina—"

  "Now, Ian."

  "Where are you going?"

  I found my spare key in the ashtray among pennies and old Tic Tacs and started the truck. "Driving. I need to think."

  He climbed out.

  "If you hurry, you can get my bodyguards to follow."

  I backed out. I knew where I wanted to go. Where I had to go. But there was no way I was going alone. Looking around, I spotted Brickhouse shaking a rug in front of Mr. Cabrera's house, while obviously trying to see what was going on at my place.

  I reversed and backed into Mr. Cabrera's driveway. "Get in," I shouted.

  Without a second thought, she dropped the rug and waddled as fast as her little legs could carry her brick-shaped self over to the truck. I peeled out just as Lewy and Joe came running out of my house.

  I made a series of dizzying turns, lefts and rights through the Mill and connecting neighborhoods, biding my time.