two turkeys and trying to tether them. "And the rooster?" I squeaked out.
"Well, I didn't want to do turkeys again, so I thought chicken would be close enough, but I only bought one, just in case it was alive too."
"Good thinking," I mumbled.
"But then it showed up alive, and as a rooster, and I couldn't catch him once I got him out of the box."
I chuckled. I couldn't help it.
"It's not funny!" But I noticed his lip curling up into a smile.
"I know, I know," I said, laughing a little bit harder. "And the hens?"
He threw his hands in the air. "I finally figured out to buy frozen ones. I couldn't afford frozen turkeys anymore, so I had to get the hens, and now no one will eat them!"
I couldn't help it. I let the laughter loose.
BeBe cocked her head.
It only took Riley a minute to join me. Tears streamed and I couldn't catch my breath.
My mother stuck her head in the door. "What on earth?" she said.
It only made Riley and me laugh harder.
When she realized we weren't going to answer, she huffed and went back downstairs.
My stomach hurt from laughing so hard. "No . . . wonder you . . . were . . . saying . . . gobble, gobble . . . in your sleep!"
"I did not!"
I nodded, laughed, and gasped for breath all at the same time. "Did."
It took a good minute to pull myself together, but I still found myself chuckling whenever I looked at the receipts. I tucked them back into the base of the lava lamp and replaced the globe. The lamp had been unplugged, after all. Nice to know Riley had the good sense not to create a fire hazard.
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"About what?"
"The turkeys?"
"What turkeys?" I smiled.
He smiled too. It bloomed across his whole splotchy face.
"Look," I said, "what you did was a wonderful gesture. I'm actually proud of you. You went about it all the wrong way, but we learn from our mistakes. I think with the state Miss Maisie is in, we'll keep this between us."
He nodded.
"But Ry, gambling is never a good way to earn money. In the end you'll lose much more than you'll ever gain. And not just money."
His shoulders squared. "I don't gamble for money. Well, not much money."
My eyebrows rose. "Then how did you pay for the turkeys?"
"I worked! Hard. Mrs. Greeble's house is falling apart!"
I tried to process what he was saying. "You didn't gamble at her house?"
"I'd like to say I didn't try, but she wouldn't let me. Told me I was too young."
Thank you, Mrs. Greeble.
"Well, she's right."
"Whatever. I can't wait till I'm older."
I almost laughed again. He didn't have a clue what was in store for him. But that was for him to learn, over time. "How about we master driving first?"
He settled down into his bed. "Deal."
I walked over to the door and said, "You coming, BeBe?"
She lifted her head, put it back down.
Traitor.
"If you're hungry, come on down. Grandma Cel is making Chinese."
"Almost as bad as the split pea soup."
"Clearly that fever is affecting your brain cells."
"Gobble, gobble."
Twenty-Two
"Look," my mother said, raising the shade and motioning out the window.
I fully expected to see Miss Maisie picketing poultry products. Instead I saw Mario's crunched Saturn sitting at the curb behind Lewy and Joe's unmarked car.
"What's that doing here?"
"Apparently, Perry gave the tow truck driver your address." She lowered the shade. "The driver was kind enough to apologize for the delay. He's been backlogged because of the snow."
"Great. We can't let Mario see it. Perry's life will be at risk."
"Pah. Not to worry. I know someone."
"Do I want to know?"
"No, chérie. No."
I took her word for it.
"Make yourself useful. Chop chop." My mother stood at the counter, cutting dough into rectangles for the dumplings. "First the carrots, then the scallions."
Lewy wandered into the kitchen as I hacked off the business end of the carrot. He took a step back. "Should I be scared?"
"Yes."
"Are you still mad?" he asked me.
"Yes."
"It was for your own good."
My mother arched an eyebrow, and I tightened my grip on the knife. "You may want to rethink that conclusion," I said, chopping away.
"Too big," my mother chastised. "Dice, chérie, dice."
Thank goodness there were only two carrots.
Lewy leaned on the counter. "We were worried," he said.
I released my grip just a bit as I diced like a pro. "That's better."
"Why worry?" my mother asked. "We know Kit is innocent."
"Actually we don't know that," Lewy said, "and honestly, we were more worried Nina would get herself into trouble."
My mother laughed.
So did Lewy.
I didn't see what was so amusing. And said so. Which made them laugh harder.
Hmmph.
I finished with the carrots and grabbed the bunch of scallions. "All of it, chérie. White part too."
"The root too?" I asked innocently.
"No one likes a smartass, chérie."
Lewy grabbed a stalk of celery to nibble on, and my mother slapped his hand and took back the celery. "Dinner will be soon enough."
"What's this?" I asked, turning over a thick, light brown, nubby something that looked like it had just been pulled out of the ground.
"That's—"
Raising quite the ruckus, BeBe trotted downstairs. How she didn't slide right down, I don't know. She raced into the kitchen, checked her empty food bowl, slurped some water, and nearly knocked Lewy over with her thrashing tail.
"What?" I asked, ignoring BeBe's shenanigans.
"Ginger root," my mother said, stirring the onions and taking them off the heat.
BeBe pranced to the laundry room, which opened into the side yard. Her tail wagged, drool pooled.
"Looks like she needs to go out," my mother said, looking at me.
I looked at Lewy.
He said, "Don't look at me. I love dogs, but not that much."
"Fine." I slid off my stool. "I thought ginger came in a can?"
My mother dramatically put her forearm to her head. "I have failed as a mother."
BeBe detoured for more water.
"You can buy ground ginger in a can, chérie, but I prefer to grate my own," my mother said. She handed Lewy a grater. "Make yourself useful."
Wise as he was, he didn't argue. He held out his hand to me.
"But it looks so . . . " I held the root up, turned it over in my palm.
"Gnarly?"
"No, it looks like . . . "
They waited.
"I don't know. It looks familiar."
BeBe whimpered.
"All right, all right. Come on." I pulled on a coat, slipped on my Keds.
I opened the back door and BeBe shot out, dashing into the night.
In the distance I heard the turkey gobbling, a throaty, warbly sound I found soothing. He was free. He was safe.
BeBe pranced and sniffed, in no hurry to do her business.
I sat on the step of Mr. Cabrera's gazebo, picked up a branch. In the mulch bed, I traced the shape of the ginger root, hoping it would trigger what it reminded me of.
In my doodling I drew a circle around it, and nearly jumped clear out of my skin.
Oh . . . my . . . God.
The ginger root looked exactly like a heart. A real heart. It reminded me of the image I'd seen on the Corazón.
Ginger root looked like a heart.
Coincidence?
I didn't think so. Ginger Barlow had to be involved with the Ecstasy.
I jumped up. "BeBe!
Come!"
I ran toward the house. The back door opened and BeBe ran inside. Lewy came out, his face lit. "Nina!"
"What?"
"The station just called. Kit's turned himself in."
"What?" He hadn't said a word about turning himself in. "Really?"
"He's asking for you, wants to make sure you call a lawyer for him."
My mind flew. Lawyers, lawyers . . .
"Josh! Bobby's cousin." He was slime, but he'd do in a pinch. I glanced across the street. "Let me just run over and ask Bobby to get in touch with him."
"Call him from the road. Come on. I'll drive." He ran to the Ford, opened my door, then dashed around to his side.
I hurried to keep up. Mario's car looked so sad in comparison to the shiny Taurus.
Then I remembered. Ginger! "Wait," I said. "I just need a minute. I've got to talk to Ian."
"We don't have time, Nina! Kit's waiting for you."
He was right. Ian could wait. Yet . . . "It really will take a second." I don't know why I was being so stubborn. Perhaps I just wanted to see Kevin's face when he heard the news about Ginger.
Which was really awful of me.
So awful, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
I turned to get in the car when I saw Lewy pointing a gun at me.
I blinked, not sure I believed what I was seeing. "Get in the car, Nina."
Oh no. Uh-uh. Nothing good would come of me getting in that car. "What are you doing, Lewy?"
"You couldn't just mind your own business, could you?"
Was there a good answer to that question?
"I don't understand," I said. And I didn't. What did Lewy have to do with anything that was going on?
Then a little nugget of information tumbled to the forefront of my consciousness. Lewy had once been Ginger's partner.
About the time Heavenly Hope had been investigated by Ginger and her partner . . .
"Get in the car," he ordered.
"No."
I glanced toward the house. The shades were drawn. Across the street, Bobby's blinds were closed tight. Even Mr. Cabrera had his drapes shut.
Just my luck.
"Get . . . in . . . the . . . car."
I took a step back. Had he shot Kevin? Daisy? Kit? Kent? Was he a cold-blooded killer? "No."
"I will shoot you."
"Like you shot Kevin? Daisy? Kit? Kent?"
His eyes narrowed. "Another difference between you and Leah. She was smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut."
"Yeah, well, I'm not Leah." I struggled to buy time. "Who pulled the strings, Lewy? You or Ginger?"
He raised his gun, took aim at me. "Last chance."
What to do? What to do? I could think of only one thing.
I screamed.
Out of nowhere wings flapped and feathers flew as the big fugitive turkey swooped in. Claws extended, it attacked.
Everything happened in a blur. Shouting voices, more screams, gobbling, blood, gunshots. Somehow I ended up behind Mario's car. Above my head, car windows shattered. Glass rained down on my hair, skittered down my arms and onto the street.
I covered my head, tucked my chin, and—of all things— hoped the stupid turkey was okay.
Blood dripped into my eyes, and it had to be my own, but I didn't feel any pain. Before I knew it, I was being lifted up. I fought for a second before Bobby's voice reached in and pulled me out of my fear.
He cupped my head, keeping it close to his chest. Through his T-shirt his racing heart pounded my cheek.
"Is she okay?" I heard my mother ask.
Bobby pulled back and looked at me. "Maybe a few stitches. She'll be all right."
"Stitches?"
"Looks like the turkey sliced your forehead."
My mother held my face in one hand while she dabbed at my forehead with a handkerchief. "Amazing. It looks like a perfect little heart."
I closed my eyes. As if I'd need any permanent reminders about this night.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
"Where's Lewy?" I asked.
"On the other side of the car," Bobby said.
"Is he dead?"
My mother laughed. "He wishes. By the time the turkey, Bobby, Kevin, Ian, Joe, and Riley jumped him, he was the little squished piggy at the bottom of the pile."
I looked over my shoulder. Riley stood with Kevin, side by side, watching me. It had never been clearer how much they needed each other.
Especially now.
"You want to go over?" Bobby asked.
I looked up at him. "I'm right where I need to be."
He kissed the top of my head.
Three police cars swerved to a stop. Uniformed officers swarmed.
"I better get some coffee on," my mother said. She kissed my cheeks, then hurried into the house.
Bobby walked me over to his front steps. "How's the turkey?" I asked.
"Gone," he said. "It flew off."
"I hope it's okay."
"I'm sure it is." Obviously trying to lighten the mood, he said, "I don't suppose you want to call off Thanksgiving?"
"You're not getting out of it that easy, Bobby MacKenna."
"A guy can try, right?"
Across the street Ian yanked Lewy to his feet. Handcuffs bound his wrists. Blood covered his face. I wondered if it was a result of the wild turkey or of the men trying to protect me.
Not that it mattered.
Ian pushed Lewy past Mario's shot-up car, toward a cruiser.
I curled closer into the nook of Bobby's arm. "Besides, don't you think we have a lot to be thankful for this year?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Although . . . "
"What?"
"Mario's going to pitch a fit when he sees his car."
Twenty-Three
"What did you think of Lowther House?" I asked Mrs. Greeble as I drove toward home. Thanksgiving morning had dawned sunny and warm, all traces of snow long gone.
"It was wonderful, Nina. I still don't understand how you were able to get me in."
"As I told you, Pippi owed me a favor."
"Must have been quite some favor."
"It was."
I couldn't have been happier that Pippi had agreed to let Mrs. Greeble become a resident of Lowther House for the rest of her days, paying only what she could.
"Why, Nina?"
"Why?"
"Why help me?"
"Simple," I said, pulling into my driveway. "Because I can."
When I came to a stop, her hand shook as she placed it on mine. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I helped her into the house, settled her on the sofa next to my father, shook him awake so he'd have to be social, and went into the kitchen to see if my mother had everything under control.
Kit had slept there last night but he'd gone out earlier with BeBe. He didn't say where. I didn't ask.
The delicious scents of garlic and tomato sauce filled the air.
"Four lasagnas should be enough, correct, chérie?"
"More than. Thank you so much for cooking, Mom. No one makes better lasagna than you."
She pinched my cheek. "What are mamas for? How did the visit go?"
"Very well. Mrs. Greeble moves into Lowther House tomorrow."
"You did a good thing."
"It feels good. A bit like extortion, but good."
"All's well that ends well, no?"
"I suppose. Is Riley upstairs?"
"With Kevin."
I headed that way. I knew I should have kicked Kevin out Tuesday night, but after everything that happened, it didn't seem so urgent. He was packed and ready to leave after dinner, and he was hoping Riley would go with him.
Weeding Out Trouble Page 20
