Weeding Out Trouble

by Heather Webber

  Ana swirled her wine. "No, he didn't! He was able to run out the back door and almost made it to the woods before one of the bullets nicked his arm."

  "What about BeBe?" I asked.

  "She wouldn't leave," Kit said softly.

  Leave Daisy, I thought. She'd learned loyalty well from her master.

  Brickhouse leveled her icy blue gaze on Ana. "Does he speak for himself, Analise Bertoli?"

  Kit laughed.

  "It's not funny," Ana said. "She's scary when she looks like that."

  Kit laughed harder.

  Ana stomped. And pouted.

  It wasn't pretty.

  Okay, it was, because, well, she was Ana. I don't think she could be unattractive if she tried.

  I noticed the way Kit looked at her. Warmly.

  Ana looked the same way at him.

  Interesting.

  "He?" I asked. "He said? It was a man who shot you?"

  Drawing a finger down his can, Kit left a perfect line in the condensation. "Definitely a man."

  "Creepy Kent?" I asked.

  Kit shrugged. "May have been. I only met the man once. Daisy always kept us separate."

  "Be glad." Brickhouse guzzled the rest of her wine.

  "Is he really dead?" Kit asked.

  Part of me still couldn't believe it. "Shot point-blank."

  "I suppose I'm under suspicion for that too?" he asked.

  I hedged. "Ian doesn't think so. The local cops think you're the drug ring leader. They'll come around."

  "Yeah. After I get a lethal injection." He scratched at his beard. "I keep playing it over in my head. Walking in, calling for Daisy, finding her in the storeroom. I kept thinking of how ironic it was."

  "What?" I asked.

  "That she had wanted out of selling illegal drugs because she didn't want to be responsible for anyone overdosing. She didn't want to cause someone else's death. And it turns out those drugs are what killed her. To top it off, she was killed surrounded by the stuff. It almost felt like fate was mocking her." He shook his head. "What a waste."

  Surrounded by? "The room was just about empty when I found her."

  "I know," he said. "Whoever killed her must have gone for boxes. That's when I showed up, found Daisy."

  Ana broke in. "Kit never heard anyone come back,

  though. Neither did BeBe. He just saw the boxes on the floor when he ran out."

  "We were both in shock, I guess," Kit said. "I was able to get away, but BeBe stayed with Daisy. Is she okay? The news reports never mentioned her."

  "BeBe's just fine. She misses you, but is still drooling up a storm. She's scared of turkeys, though. You might want to work on that."

  He arched an eyebrow in question.

  "Don't ask," I said. "Did the shooter follow you into the woods?"

  Kit shook his head.

  Ana set her glass on the counter. "Kit hid in the woods until he thought it was safe—he'd seen a car drive away— then he ran to his truck."

  That explained the bloodstains.

  "But I didn't have my keys," he said. "I must have dropped them in Heavenly Hope."

  "Actually," I interrupted, "you lost them in the woods. The police found them."

  He nodded. "I sat in my truck a long time, and finally decided I had to call the police. My cell had died by that time, but I'd seen a dark car pull out of the driveway about an hour before that so I thought it was safe to go back inside."

  Ana tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So he was headed back inside to call 911, and to get BeBe, when a silhouette appeared in Heavenly Hope's doorway—" She stomped her foot again. "Don't look at me like that, Ursula!"

  Brickhouse clucked. "Let the man tell his own story!"

  If Ana didn't keep her mouth shut, I wouldn't put it past Brickhouse to bean her on the head with the wine bottle.

  Kit picked up the story. "Ana's right. A silhouette appeared in the doorway. I thought I was a goner."

  "Was it a woman?" I asked, still hoping to tie Ginger into this somehow.

  "No," Ana said.

  With another warning look from Brickhouse, Ana muttered, "Sorry. You tell it, Kit."

  "It was a man. Medium build, medium height. I couldn't see much more."

  "Did he say anything to you?" Brickhouse asked, going for seconds on the wine.

  Ana couldn't control herself. Excitedly, she lowered her voice and imitated a man, saying, "'Run. Because no one will ever believe you.'"

  I didn't have time to react when Brickhouse lunged at her, spewing curses in German.

  Twenty-One

  "Ach. Maybe Ginger had hooked up with Creepy Kent?"

  I couldn't see it. I wanted to think that Ginger had better taste in men.

  Although she had picked Kevin.

  Then again, so had I.

  But did she shoot him?

  Lord knows there'd been days I wanted to.

  Brickhouse and I were on our way home, and we were discussing whether Ginger was involved with Daisy's death. It had taken Kit's strength to pull Brickhouse off Ana back at the condo. Not much damage had been done. Just a little squishing. "You didn't have to attack Ana, you know."

  "I warned her."

  Fair enough—she had.

  I'd decided not to call Kevin.

  Honestly, I had nothing to say. There was no way on God's green earth I'd tell him where Kit was hiding. I wish I could tell him I knew who'd shot Daisy. And who'd shot him. But I didn't know.

  And an evil part of me wished I could say it was Ginger.

  For karma's sake.

  Unfortunately, I couldn't find any evidence that she'd been mixed up in Daisy's death at all.

  "Kent was definitely involved," I said.

  Brickhouse clucked. "I've always suspected you weren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but that statement would confirm it, Nina Ceceri, since we've established that Kent was involved up to the tips of his silver hair."

  "You sound like Perry," I said, missing him. I hoped he was feeling better.

  "Ach. Are you trying to change the subject?"

  "Not at all. I'm always up for a discussion of my mental acuity."

  She smiled. It was a rare sighting.

  "I was simply talking aloud," I explained, "trying to get facts straight in my head."

  "Seems simple to me. Kent was the ringleader. He shot Kevin because he must have suspected he was undercover, and he shot Daisy because she wanted out of the business but knew too much."

  Talk about not the sharpest knife. However, I valued my life, so I simply said, "And who shot Kent?"

  She grumbled when she couldn't come up with an answer.

  "You know," I said, "Randall Oh is of medium build, medium height."

  Clucking, she grumbled, "He didn't seem the type to lie. I can usually tell."

  "Sociopaths lie very well."

  "Ach."

  "It makes sense. He had just as much access to the drugs as Daisy. Let's say they were both selling drugs. Only she wants out, wants to make Heavenly Hope legit. What does that do to Randall?"

  "Cuts his income."

  "Sounds like motive to me. So, he kills Daisy, knowing she was going to meet with Kit that night. Maybe he'd been planning on killing Kit too, making it look like a murder suicide. But Kit is early. Shows up before Randall can clear out the inventory, because the last thing he wants is for the police to confiscate his goods."

  "I can see it," Brickhouse said.

  "Plus, Randall probably saw Kent talking to me at the viewing yesterday and became worried that Kent was telling secrets in his state of grief. Is it a coincidence that Kent is dead the next day? You know how I feel about coincidences. Who had the most to lose if Daisy strayed onto the straight and narrow path? Kent for certain. And Randall if he'd had anything to do with the drugs. The more I think about it, the more sure I become that he had a lot to do with the drugs."

  "I liked Randall's mother too. Poor thing is going to be devastated."

  The mo
re I thought about Randall being behind the murders, the more I liked the idea.

  It made sense when nothing else did.

  I was all for making sense for a change.

  My inner voice seconded that notion.

  Besides, I was fresh out of suspects.

  My headlights swept across Mrs. Daasch's house as I turned the corner onto my street. I half expected Bobby to be out fixing the gutters, but all the lights were off.

  I parked in my driveway behind Ian's car, cut my lights. Lewy and Joe's car was half on the curb, half on the street. I smiled. They weren't going to be happy I lost them.

  "Okay," I said. "Not a word about Kit."

  "Duh," she said.

  It made me laugh because it was so unlike her and so much like something Riley would say. "Too much time with Riley?" I asked.

  "I suppose so."

  "I'd like to get Ian alone if I can. Tell him most of what I know. I think we can trust him."

  "I'll distract the others," she said.

  I didn't want to know how. "Sounds like a plan. You ready?"

  "Ja."

  Aha! I knew that was German for yes. It was just about the only word in German I knew, besides "schnitzel."

  I looked at her. "Is it wrong that I wanted Ginger involved?"

  "Ach. Yes." She opened the door, slid out.

  Great.

  The loud sounds of gobble gobble gobble echoed down the street. I hoped the turkey wasn't in futile search of its mate.

  As I climbed the front steps I made a mental note to find a second to call Maddie to let her know about Kit. I opened the front door to wonderful smells. The scent of Chinese spices made my stomach rumble. I heard sizzling coming from the kitchen.

  Kevin, Ian, Lewy, and Joe glared at us. Amazingly, it didn't ruin my appetite.

  "Where have you been?" Kevin asked.

  "Driving." I still wasn't happy with him. One thing was certain—he wouldn't be sleeping there tonight. "Why? Did anything happen while I was gone?"

  "Did it?" Kevin asked.

  "I'm here. In one piece. It's a miracle. Ursula?"

  "One piece," she said, patting herself down.

  "Chérie! You're home! Just in time to help me with dinner. Oh! Ursula, Donatelli is looking for you. He was out chasing the fugitive turkey when the turkey attacked him. He's fine, scratched a bit, but just fine. I think he wants you to tend to him. Refused my offer," she said, sounding a bit put out.

  Brickhouse didn't spare a glance in my direction. She bid her good-byes and waddled to the door.

  So much for distraction.

  Once she left, my mother dragged me into the kitchen. "Are you okay, chérie?"

  It took me a second to realize she was talking about what happened with Ian and his revelations about Kevin. The men must have been talking while I was gone.

  "I'm all right. Dinner smells good." She was sautéing onions and it smelled heavenly. Vegetables covered the countertop, and rice simmered on the stovetop.

  "You can help me slice."

  Ian was fully focused on the conversation he was having. I really could have used Brickhouse's help.

  I picked up a paring knife and sliced some mushrooms, though I despised them. "Did Riley make it back okay?"

  "He's upstairs sleeping. BeBe is keeping him company."

  "Did he eat anything?"

  "Not much."

  "The doctor said he wouldn't for a day or two. Personally, I think he's scared we're going to give him more pea soup."

  "He has reason to fear the soup." My mother grinned. "It's terrible."

  Ha! I knew it.

  I finished with the mushrooms, set down my knife. "I'm going to check on Ry."

  I tried to catch Ian's eye, but he wouldn't look at me. I couldn't say I blamed him after I kicked him out of my truck earlier, but really. How scary would facing me be?

  Apparently, a lot. Not one of the men looked my way as I headed for the stairs.

  BeBe must have heard me coming. She was waiting when I pushed open Riley's door, her tail thumping, drool oozing.

  Darkness had long since fallen, and Riley's room was pitch-black. I reached for the overhead switch, then stopped myself. I didn't want to wake him with a flood of artificial light.

  Leaning over his desk, I followed the cord of the lava lamp until I found the switch. I ran my finger over the dial, heard the clicking, but the lamp didn't flutter to life.

  I backtracked into the hall, BeBe at my feet, and turned on the light. It filtered into Riley's room, allowing me to make out shapes and shadows.

  Creeping to the bed, I felt Riley's head. Still warm.

  A tray with a bottle of water and some crackers sat on his desk. I moved the water to his nightstand and realized it was too dark for him to see it there if he needed it.

  I tried the switch on the lava lamp again. Still didn't work. Was it plugged in? Fumbling in the darkness, I started at the base of the lamp to follow the cord of the socket. BeBe nudged me from behind and knocked me forward into the lamp. I grabbed the base not realizing the top wasn't attached. The lava globe hit the carpet with a loud thump.

  Once I righted myself, I noticed the base wasn't empty.

  I reached inside.

  The noise from the commotion must have awoken Riley, because he sat up just in time to see me pull out a wad of papers.

  He came fully awake rather quickly. "You don't need to see those!" he said, lunging.

  I pulled my hand away. He tumbled to the floor. BeBe thought it was a game and plopped down and started rolling on top of Riley.

  "Get her off me!" he said.

  She licked and slobbered.

  I smiled and declined to help him. There went my Stepmother of the Year award again. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for it.

  I backed toward his doorway and flipped on the overhead light.

  "My eyes! My eyes!" Riley said.

  "Close them," I advised unsympathetically, unfolding the papers.

  I'd been expecting to find money or something related to his poker playing. Instead I found receipts. Three of them.

  My eyes widened with each one.

  Riley finally managed to dislodge BeBe and hauled himself back into bed. He glowered at me.

  He was good at it. But not good enough.

  "Want to explain?" I asked.

  "Not really."

  I sat down on the edge of the desk. BeBe looked between Riley and me and chose to jump on the bed. She circled three times and dropped. Riley tugged his leg out from under her.

  "Do you know how much grief you've caused everyone?"

  Splotches covered his neck, crept up his face. Since he was a kid, it had been his default reaction to being overly upset. Hives. He'd be an itchy mess in no time.

  "I was trying to help!" Throwing himself back against his pillows, he folded his arms over his chest. His chin thrust out stubbornly.

  I took a second to absorb what he was saying while I looked at the receipts for two turkeys, one rooster, and twenty Cornish game hens.

  Then I remembered what he'd told me.

  Kit told me that sometimes it's important to help people even when they don't want the help.

  And what Mrs. Greeble had said.

  Nobody likes to ask for handouts. I really don't want to be a burden to my family.

  "I see," I finally said to Riley.

  "You do?" His eyes looked cautious.

  "I really do." I smiled. "It was sweet of you. The thought, at least."

  "I didn't know the turkeys were alive!"

  I bit back a laugh. That probably wouldn't go over too well with his teenage pride.

  "I had been wondering why they were so expensive."

  I checked the receipt. Holy smokes!

  "I tried tying them up, but they escaped."

  I almost laughed again at the image of Riley wrangling