“She’s beautiful,” Richard said, his voice breaking. “Just like her mom.”
Brenda laughed. “Oh my God, I’m a mom.”
“You sure are,” Maggie echoed.
The paramedics asserted themselves. “We’ve got to take this new mom to the hospital,” they said, shooing the rest of us away.
Just before they closed the ambulance doors, Richard tossed his keys my way.
I caught them, not sure I was up to driving.
Maggie looped her arm around mine and we watched as the ambulance took off.
“Sir, we really need to check you out,” a uniformed paramedic said.
“Don’t give them a hard time,” Maggie chided, and I could see the concern in her eyes.
“I won’t.”
“You, too, Da-Marr,” Evelyn ordered.
“No, ma’am, I won’t.”
But before I let the paramedics lead me away, I handed Evelyn the keys. “You should have these. I have a feeling I’ll be going home with Maggie.”
Evelyn nodded. “Thank you.” She leaned in close and spoke into my ear. “Thank you. I have no doubt that if you hadn’t been there, Da-Marr wouldn’t be here with me right now.”
I shrugged and turned away. Was that true? I didn’t know or care.
Maggie dragged me toward one of the other ambulances. Now came the part that I didn’t like. Strangers touching me, prying into my personal life. Then again, it was a small price to pay for being alive.
Chapter 31
The ball danced around the rim and went in. Two points for me.
“Cheater,” Da-Marr accused, grabbing the basketball.
“Liar,” I responded.
He dribbled the basketball some more, but I only half-heartedly went after him. We’d been playing for nearly an hour and despite the tight elastic brace, my knee was killing me. Besides, I was pooped.
He aimed, threw — slam-dunk! “Ha!”
I held my hands up in surrender. “I’m done.”
“Loser!”
“Hey, I gotta shower and get ready if we’re going to the game.”
“Shit, I almost forget,” Da-Marr said, bouncing the ball a few more times. He took aim one last time, threw, and missed.
“Sucker,” I said and laughed.
Richard’s Mercedes pulled into the driveway, followed by Maggie’s blue Hyundai, and Da-Marr let the ball roll away. We stood watching as multiple car doors opened. Richard had driven Evelyn, Brenda, and the baby home from the hospital, while Maggie had brought back the flowers, balloons, and gifts that had accumulated in only a day — mostly from Richard’s and Brenda’s California friends.
“I could use some help here,” Maggie called.
“You can do it,” Da-Marr muttered.
“You can do it.”
“Who’s going to make me?”
“I will,” Richard said, sounding just a little annoyed.
“Yes, sir,” Da-Marr said, lowered his head, and walked toward Maggie’s car. The kid’s behavior had done a one-eighty since our ordeal on the Niagara River two days before. He seemed to have lost most of his swagger after a day being interrogated by various police jurisdictions.
I’d surrendered the bag of uncut diamonds with the assurance they’d be given to the proper authorities — as soon as someone figured that out.
Bobby’s body had been found the previous day near the river’s whirlpool. And of course, wreckage from Easy Breezin’ had been scattered along the shores of the gorge. What a mess — for us, for Bobby’s family, and the impact on the environment. At least the boat’s fuel tanks had run dry before it went over the falls.
Richard helped Brenda from the car before he bent down to retrieve Betsy Ruth, who was bundled up in pink jammies decorated with little bunnies, a blanket, and the knitted cap her Aunt Evelyn had made for her. I paused to admire her. Friday night she’d looked a goopy mess; on that warm, bright Sunday morning, she looked positively gorgeous.
I tweaked her cheek and she smiled.
“See, she already knows her Uncle Jeff,” I said.
Evelyn frowned. “That’s gas.”
I shook my head. “No, this little girl and I are already old friends.”
“You’ve held her exactly once,” Evelyn reminded me.
Richard gave me a knowing look, but said nothing.
Da-Marr walked up to join us, balancing several floral arrangements on a teetering pile of gift boxes, with the ribbons from several pink balloons wrapped around each arm. “Someone gonna open the door for me?”
“I’ll take the baby,” Brenda said in a rather proprietary manner.
“I can carry her,” Richard said, cradling his daughter as though she was a delicate soap bubble.
“I think I should carry her in,” Evelyn said. “I’ve had more experience with babies than all of you put together.”
“Tell you what, Evie, since you are the most experienced among us, I’m going to let you change her diaper,” Brenda said, smiling.
Evelyn looked about to make a withering reply, but then seemed to think better of it. “I’d be happy to.”
Maggie brought up the rear, her arms filled with yet more vases of flowers. “Well, will somebody open the door or are we going to stand around in the driveway all day?”
Richard was not about to surrender the baby to any of them. “The keys are in my jacket pocket.”
“I’ll get the door,” I said. It wasn’t locked.
“Hey, take one of these flowers,” Da-Marr demanded. So I grabbed one of the vases and led the assembled up to the back door, holding it open for everyone to enter.
They all trudged through the house and into the living room, where Richard finally surrendered the baby to her mother, who sat down in one of the wing chairs.
We all looked at each other.
“Now what do we do?” Brenda asked.
I shrugged. “I guess we figure out the new normal.”
Betsy Ruth yawned and moved her pudgy hands up to rub her eyes.
“Awww,” all three women chorused.
Da-Marr rolled his eyes. “We should get ready for the game.”
“Don’t fill up on beer and junk food,” Maggie warned, “I’ve got a pan of lasagna all ready to go in the oven about five — it’ll be ready at six. That should give you plenty of time to get home from the stadium.”
“Da-Marr is underage. He can’t drink,” I pointed out.
“The hell I can’t!” he protested.
“You will not drink,” Evelyn said in a tone that broached no argument.
“I will not drink,” Da-Marr said meekly.
I smiled. “Guess who’s the designated driver?”
“Don’t celebrate yet. The Eagles are gonna trounce the Bills.”
“Won’t.”
“Will.”
“Won’t.”
“Will you please stop that,” Maggie snapped.
I put the flowers down on the coffee table, and then bent down to kiss the top of the baby’s head. “I’ll see you later, Princess Betsy.”
“See you later, Jeffy,” Brenda called to my back, as she and Richard turned back to admire the baby.
Evelyn reached over to take more flowers from Da-Marr’s pile of stuff.
I paused at the doorway and looked back at the people in the room. It had been one hell of a week. Like Dickens said: the best of times and the worst of times.
And as I’d told Da-Marr out on the river, Betsy Ruth wasn’t the only new member of my family.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The immensely popular Booktown Mystery series is what put Lorraine Bartlett’s pen name Lorna Barrett on the New York Times Bestseller list, but it’s her talent — whether writing as Lorna, or L.L. Bartlett, or Lorraine Bartlett — that keeps her there. This multi-published, Agatha-nominated author pens the exciting Jeff Resnick Mysteries as well as the acclaimed Victoria Square Mystery series, and now the Tales of Telenia fantasy saga, and has many short stories and novellas to her name(s).
Check out the links to all her works here: http://www.lorrainebartlett.com
If you enjoyed Dark Waters, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Thank you.
Other Books by L.L. Bartlett
The Jeff Resnick Mysteries
Murder on the Mind
Dead In Red
Room at the Inn
Cheated by Death
Bound By Suggestion
Dark Waters
Short Stories
When The Spirit Moves You
Bah! Humbug
Cold Case the inspiration for the novel Bound By Suggestion Abused: A Daughter’s Story
Writing as Lorraine Bartlett
The Tales of Telenia (Fantasy)
Threshold
Journey
Treachery (2014)
The Victoria Square Mysteries
A Crafty Killing
The Walled Flower
One Hot Murder
Recipes To Die For: A Victoria Square Cookbook
Short Stories
We’re So Sorry, Uncle Albert
Blue Christmas
An Unconditional Love
Love Heals
Prisoner of Love
Writing as Lorna Barrett
The Booktown Mysteries
Murder Is Binding
Bookmarked For Death
Bookplate Special
Chapter & Hearse
Sentenced To Death
Murder On The Half Shelf
Not The Killing Type
Book Clubbed (2014)
Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) Page 27
