by Lucy Quinn
Steve had died in Dora’s office. Dora had spent the morning glued to the local news channels, waiting for the news of the local restaurateur’s death to be announced. But there was nothing. Not even a passing mention. How had the media missed his death? Surely he’d been taken to the local morgue. Someone had to have heard the dispatch when the call came in, right? So why wasn’t there any reporting, and why wasn’t anyone looking for his killer? And where was Marco? Even if the police were keeping this under wraps, Marco would be out for blood.
None of it made sense to Dora, but then she wasn’t law enforcement. She had no real idea of how things worked in actual police investigations, only what she’d seen on television.
“Okay!” Evie called, appearing in the living room with a plastic tub of water. “Soak your feet. I’m going to go grab my paraffin supplies.”
“You don’t have to do all of that,” Dora said, glancing at the door. What if Marco barged in while her feet were wrapped in plastic booties and hot wax? She’d probably slip and hit her head on the coffee table as she tried to get away.
“Yes, I do. Who knows how long it’s been since you had those feet pampered? I bet it was last fall, right? You dodged me the last few times I asked you to join me at the day spa.”
Dora winced. Evie had a point. But what difference did it make if she had soft feet if she was just going to wind up in jail? Her face must’ve given her thoughts away because Evie pointed a finger at her and in a stern voice said, “Don’t you even go there, Dora Winslow. This was self-defense, and Brian is going to make sure this goes away. If he doesn’t, I will.”
The look on Evie’s face was so fierce and full of determination that Dora cracked the tiniest of smiles for the first time all day. Her friend really would go to the end of the earth for her. “Ride or die, right?”
“Thelma and Louise until the end,” Evie said with a sharp nod.
“Okay. Well, if we’re going to possibly be on the run, I might as well have pretty toes for the journey,” Dora said.
“That’s my girl.” Evie beamed at her and got to work.
6
Dora looked at Evie, who sat back on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table, showing off her new pedicure and sipping champagne. Evie asked her, “Are you sure you don’t want any of this? It’s delicious.”
Dora, who was sitting next to her, was still sporting cheap flip flops as her toenails dried. She pressed a hand to her stomach and shook her head. “My stomach is in knots. Do you have any ginger ale?”
Evie waved a hand. Dora liked to switch to ginger ale any time she got too tipsy for her liking, and Evie kept it on hand for her friend. “It’s in the fridge.” She sent Dora a side-eye glance. “I’ve got vodka too. A little of that in your drink wouldn’t hurt, right?”
“Gah! No. I’ll just get the ginger ale.” Dora stood and started to stride toward the kitchen.
“Careful of the toes!” Evie called after her.
“Right.” Dora stiffened, aware that her ability to girl had left the building a while ago, and she started to waddle like a penguin, careful to preserve her pedicure.
Evie snickered. As Dora riffled through the fridge for the soda, Evie must have peaked through the blinds and spotted the mail truck a few houses down, because she cried out, “Dora! Billy’s almost here.”
“He is?” Dora ran out of the kitchen with a ginger ale bottle in her hand. “Finally!”
The two women watched as Billy made his way to her neighbor’s house and then turned in the direction of Evie’s cottage. Evie automatically opened the door, already waving, when Dora spotted a solid white van speeding down the street straight toward Billy.
“What the hell?” Dora asked over Evie’s shoulder.
“Billy, look out!” Evie called, desperately waving for him to get out of the way.
In a blur of white, Sunshine darted out of the house, headed straight toward Billy.
“No! Sunshine, come back!” Evie rushed out of the house after her pup.
Dora panicked and yelled, “Evie! No!” But Evie didn’t slow down. She was too focused on the dog running toward the street to see the real danger.
Dora wasn’t though. She watched a stocky man wearing a ski mask jump from the back of the van and grab Billy. Ignoring the danger for herself, she began to run toward Billy and yelled, “Get your hands off him!”
Another man with huge arms covered in tattoos jumped out of the van as the first guy held Billy by his blue button-down postal uniform shirt. He sneered as he yanked on the mail bag.
“No!” Dora cried as the tattooed guy succeeded in ripping the mail bag from Billy’s grasp and took off at a dead run.
His conspirator released Billy and rushed for the van, too.
“Let go, you two-bit thief,” Billy shouted, as he ran after them, his fist held high in the air. “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor a bunch of crooks will stop me!”
“Wow,” Dora said as she stopped next to Evie, who had Sunshine safely in her arms, to watch Billy. The mailman was actually gaining on the van. “That guy takes his job seriously.”
When Billy reached the white van, he jumped on the back. The driver slammed on the brakes, and both Dora and Evie let out a gasp when the tattooed thief hopped out of the sliding van door, grabbed Billy, and tossed him into the vehicle like he was a sack of potatoes.
“No!” Dora cried again, and for the second time in two days she surprised herself by not cowering in fear. She took action. Her cheap sandals lived up to their name as they flip-flopped over the pavement while she ran to the mail truck with Evie hot on her tail. They both tried to jump into the driver’s seat, but Dora had gotten there first and yelled, “Calling it!”
“Dammit,” Evie said, conceding to their lifelong rule for who had rights to pretty much anything they both wanted.
Dora slammed the truck into gear as Evie and Sunshine barely managed to get in, and Dora gunned it with the hope of catching the getaway van that contained Evie’s treasure of a mailman, the mailman’s precious mailbag, and very importantly to Dora, the package with the flash drive that had proof of Marco’s crimes.
Unfortunately, mail trucks don’t have V-8 engines. Speed is not their most important feature, and the van already had a head start. But Dora gave it her all. She didn’t even slow down to take the upcoming left turn.
As she yanked the wheel to the left, packages flew to the right with enough force the mail truck teetered a bit on two wheels before slamming back down on all four, engaging the two previously spinning wheels to give them a jolt forward.
“To the right!” Evie yelled once she could be heard over the wheel-screeching results of Dora’s precarious turn. Not that it stopped her from performing the stunt another time. But it only took one more street before the van was no longer in sight. And when they got to the T intersection, it was clear they’d lost the bad guys, Billy, and the package with the flash drive.
Dora slapped her hands down on the steering wheel in frustration, and Evie wailed, “Poor Billy! We have to call the police.”
“No,” Dora said sternly as she pulled the mail truck over to the side of the road. “Let me call Brian.” She lifted her hip to dig her phone out of her back pocket, a little surprised it was still there considering the wild ride and the state of the packages in the mail truck.
Brian picked up on the first ring. “Dora,” he said, a little too breathless to sound casual.
But, Dora thought, he’s likely worried about me. Her heart sank as the reality of what just happened hit her and she relayed the events to Brian. Without the flash drive, she didn’t have any proof of the money laundering scheme, and she knew as well as any good accountant did that there were ways for Marco to cover his tracks. A whole new set of books and a few well-placed clues, and Dora would be on the hook for more than the accidental death of Steve Franklin. She asked, “What do I do now?”
“You’re sure the kidnappers have the package?” Brian asked w
ith a touch of optimism in his voice that made Dora uncomfortable.
Dora didn’t have time to think that over at the moment because she was distracted by a woman’s voice calling out, “Billy! Billy, I need your help!”
She looked out the window to see a woman wearing a cotton dress that had the shape of a flour sack. She also had big pink rollers in her hair as if she’d stepped off the set of a nineteen-sixties sitcom.
“I’ve got this,” Evie said, and she got out of the truck to deal with the woman while Dora continued her conversation with Brian.
Dora said, “They’ve got Billy’s mailbag which had to have had the package I sent to Evie with the flash drive since he was on his way to her front door.” Or was he, she pondered as she recalled that Billy had hesitated for a moment before the bag was snatched.
“Good—I mean,” Brian paused. “I mean at least they got what they wanted and you’re no longer in danger.”
“What?” Dora let out a noise of disbelief. “I am still in danger. You don’t really believe Marco is just going to let this go now that he has the flash drive, do you? I—” She whispered the next words. “I accidently killed his father.”
“I know. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I mean that at this very second you aren’t in danger. And you might be fine.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Look. Just lay low for a while, and I’ll get this sorted out. Whatever you do, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Got it?”
Dora frowned. Brian didn’t seem very concerned about her wellbeing. His advice to lay low and not tell anyone about what she knew while she waited for him to do something was more suspicious than the milk in Evie’s fridge. “And Billy?” she asked as she watched Evie take the hands of the woman in the housedress as if she was comforting her.
“He’ll be fine. I’ve got this. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
Dora’s stomach was in knots, and when her call with Brian ended, she stared at the phone in confusion. He had not acted like someone who was looking out for her best interests. The man had acted as if he was happy the robbers had gotten the package and brushed off her concerns about the kidnapped mailman. Something was definitely off.
7
“Dora!” Evie called. “We have a situation.”
That’s putting it mildly, Dora thought as she raised her eyebrows at her friend through the windshield of the mail truck.
“Miss Carol here has a problem we need to help solve,” Evie said. Dora stepped out of the mail truck as Evie continued, “Mr. Whiskers is stuck.” She pointed at a large, red maple tree with the kind of branches kids and cats loved to climb. Up near the top sat a tabby meowing in distress.
Dora looked at Miss Carol in disbelief. “You want us to climb up and get your cat?” She shook her head in dismissal. “The moment that cat is hungry he’ll come down for food.”
“No,” the woman said with a shaky voice that made Dora think she was on the verge of tears. “No, he won’t.” Miss Carol’s tone turned to indignation as she threw her shoulders back. “And Billy wouldn’t have questioned me. He’d have climbed right up that tree and gotten Mr. Whiskers.”
“She’s right,” Evie said. “And since we’re—” Evie paused to search for the right words that wouldn’t give away what was really going on. “Well, because we’re filling in for Billy, it’s our responsibility to help.”
“You’re serious?” Dora asked Evie even though she already knew the answer. Evie had a soft spot for animals that defied logic.
Evie put her hands on her hips and gave Dora the look. The one that said logic is not the answer to everything. And Dora knew that she wasn’t going to win this one. Some fights weren’t worth having. The least she could do to salvage the situation was make sure it was done right. She marched over toward the tree as forcefully as possible in flip flops with toe bridges curling up her tootsies, making her stride appear a bit like that of a duck.
Miss Carol whispered loudly enough to Evie that Dora overheard. “What’s with your friend’s choice of footwear?”
Dora hoisted herself up to the first branch of the tree, already regretting that she didn’t make Evie do the climbing. She ground her teeth in anger at Miss Carol’s judgment before she spat out, “Ingrown toenail. Okay?”
“She’s a bit touchy, isn’t she?” Miss Carol said, this time not bothering to whisper.
Before Dora could hop back out of the tree and tell Miss Carol to call the fire department, Evie answered. “She’s saving your cat, Miss Carol. A little respect.”
It was hard to stay mad at a friend who had her back, and Dora continued to climb up the tree to lure Mr. Whiskers from his perch. She had a great deal of respect for felines. It was hard not to appreciate a species that could wrap humans around their furry tails with a purr, yet only give affection when the mood struck. Truthfully, Dora wished she could be more like them. Especially when it came to men.
Dora chipped a nail on the rough bark of the tree and huffed in annoyance as she got closer to the cat. She thought about how cagey Brian had been on the phone call, and while she’d need to talk it over with Evie, she had the gut instinct her neighbor was just like most men in her life… not to be trusted.
Dora had been burned by more than one man in her lifetime. She knew better than to trust them any further than her wimpy arms could throw one, and she was seriously starting to regret placing her life in Brian’s hands.
“Meow!” Mr. Whiskers cried as Dora got close enough to reach for him. The cat didn’t let her lift him from his perch though. Instead he hopped onto Dora’s shoulder and dug his claws in.
“Ouch!” she cried out, sure the tabby had drawn blood.
“Don’t you hurt him!” Miss Carol called from below.
Dora had a fleeting desire to fling the cat off her back and let him prove he could land on his feet while using up one of his lives. But she knew her anger wasn’t for the cat. It was about the frustration she had over trusting another man who’d let her down.
When she got to the bottom of the tree and Mr. Whiskers dug into her flesh one more time to launch himself into his owner’s arms, Dora’s anger faded. The tears of joy on Miss Carol’s face was reward enough for the good deed she done.
“Thank you for saving my baby!” Miss Carol cried. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”
“You do make a mean shortbread cookie,” Evie said. “Dora loves sweets.”
“Then I’ll be by later with a double batch.” Miss Carol said before she snuggled into her cat and smothered him with kisses. And despite the bleeding welts on her shoulder, Dora smiled, satisfied with the job she’d done.
Dora’s joy was short lived, though. The moment the two of them got back to the truck, where they found Sunshine sitting in the driver’s seat keeping watch over the mail, Dora knew she had to tell Evie her suspicions about Brian. “We have to talk.”
Dora started up the truck. As she began to drive, Sunshine jumped into her lap with a rubber-banded stack of mail in her mouth. Dora pushed at the dog with the back of her hand. “Evie, control your little beast. I’m trying to drive.”
“Dora! Sunshine is telling you we need to deliver the mail.”
“What?” She looked over at her friend. “Of all the—” Dora sighed, noting Evie was giving her that look again. “No. No. No. No,” she chanted, aware it was a useless plea.
“You heard the man,” Evie said. “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat—”
“Or kidnapping. I get it.” Dora shook her head as she pulled in close to a mailbox. She checked the address. Miraculously it was the correct one, and the mailbox door creaked as she tugged it open to deposit the bundle of mail Sunshine had dropped in her lap.
They drove slowly down the street with Sunshine scampering back to the pile of mail that had fallen off the shelves, magically retrieving the right bundle for each house.
“That dog is kind of freaking me out right now,” Dora said as she double checked the bundle Evie had just given her.
“It’s what he didn’t say that has me worried, Evie.” Dora pulled outgoing mail from a mailbox and handed the shoebox-size package to her friend before lowering the red flag. She snapped the door shut and turned to stare intently at Evie. “He was super cagey about the whole thing. He actually seemed happy the package was stolen. And—” She let out a sigh as the pain of yet another man betraying her made her heart ache. “He said I might not have anything to worry about. How much sense does that make? I killed a man!”
“It was self-defense!” Evie cried out, quick to defend her best friend.
“True,” Dora agreed. “But there’s no way Marco is going to let me off easily.”
“You’re right. So what do we do?”
Sunshine let out a yap and scampered back to the pile of mail. She grabbed a manila bubble mailer and brought it to Dora. Taking the package without inspecting it, Dora said, “This is going to sound crazy, but I’m afraid saving Billy is up to us.”
“Oh boy. You really think we need to free him from the kidnappers?” Evie asked.
Sunshine scrambled into Dora’s lap and pawed at her arm for attention. Dora ruffled the dog’s head to satisfy her. “Do you trust Brian to do it after what I just told you?”
Sunshine barked and pawed at Dora again with more force. “Jeez,” she said as she held the package in her hand out of the way and glared at the dog. “What is it with you tiny animals maiming me?”
“Dora!” Evie grabbed the package out of her hand. “Oh my god. Look!” She held it up so Dora could see who it was addressed to.
Dora recognized the neat script right away and gasped as she grabbed the envelope back out of Evie’s hand. “The flash drive!”
