Sprouted

by Gina LaManna

  “Anytime.”

  We made it into the lobby where Meg promptly turned and whispered. “He doesn’t have a clue what’s happening.”

  “No,” I said. “But it could be someone who knows him. He wouldn’t be the worst target—manager level, relatively clueless, decent guy...”

  I scanned the lobby of the bank with a new interest. Could it be someone in this very building? None of the tellers fit the profile, save for one slender female, but even she was a hair too short. Most of the employees behind the desks were either overweight bald guys or men with shiny muscles manufactured from careful gym time meant to combat the rest of the hours they spent sitting on their butts. No slender, leggy females, bright red heads, or their brunette friend.

  “I actually have to withdraw money,” Meg said, offering a fond smile as she retrieved her bank card once again. “Todd. That guy loves to be paid in cash. Brown paper bag,” she added. “What a character.”

  I grasped Meg’s wrist. “What’d you just say?”

  “I called Todd a character. He even prefers his payments all cloak-and-dagger-like. I have this theory, see, that he’s actually a secret agent sent to seek me out and train me in the art of professional investigating. Maybe that’s his true mission, and his being a PI is just a cover.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, thinking that more than likely, Todd was a scam artist with the cover of a private investigator. I let go when Meg tugged her arm away and hopped in line. “I’m going to make a quick call while you do that.”

  As Meg crawled forward in line, I leaned against the glass windows to the entrance of the lobby, holding my plant in one arm and the phone to my ear.

  “Clay?” I whispered when he answered. “Yeah, I’ve gotta make this quick. I’m at the bank. Stop asking questions—I need you to look up Meg’s PI instructor. Todd—whatever his last name is—have you heard her talking about him? He must have a last name since he had a badge. I just don’t know what it is.”

  “You’ve already tricked me into peeling back the layers of Detective Rankle,” Clay argued. “No, I don’t have the information yet, but I will, and soon. This afternoon. I’ll see you at Nora’s.”

  “For what?”

  “For what? Lacey, we’re all recruited there for you. If you don’t show, I will strangle you myself.”

  “Hey, don’t let the baby hear your threats. You don’t want to be the scary uncle, do you? You already have the market on the creepy uncle who knows everything.”

  “I don’t want to be the creepy uncle,” he moaned. “I want to be the cool one. You know, the Batman uncle with all the cool equipment and toys. Not the creep.”

  “You will be very cool and not at all creepy if you can get me the information on this Todd fellow,” I said. “Do it for your future wife.”

  That brought Clay to a dead halt.

  “That’s right,” I said, softer, understanding how foreign the word sounded at first mention. “You’re thinking of proposing to Meg. Which leads to marriage. Which leads to you being husband and wife. You’re going to have to get used to the term.”

  “Wife,” Clay echoed, dazed. “Sure, sure, I’ll look into Todd. Call you in a...bye.”

  Meg returned just as I’d hung up and slipped the phone back into my bag. She brought an envelope thick with cash and a glass of water with her. The envelope got shoved in her purse, the glass of water dumped on Venus.

  “Look, ladies, I’m sorry—I know you’re friends with Mr. Bean and all...” The professional door-greeter had returned, pulling at his tie and looking sweatier than usual. “But lady, you’re dripping dirt all over the floor, and you...” He turned to look at Meg. “You talk very loudly. It’s causing a bit of a scene.”

  “We’re leaving,” I said. “I just need—”

  “Please leave faster,” he begged. “I’m sorry to be rude, what with you being with child and all, but the regional manager is on the way here, and I can’t get points knocked off the cleanliness of my lobby because you’re hauling around...what is that thing?”

  “It’s not a thing,” Meg corrected. “It’s a he. His name is Venus. Fine, we’ll get out of your stuffy old lobby. And sorry about my beautiful voice that carries.”

  “Thank you, thank you.” The man wiped sweat from his brow. “They should be here any second and, oh, sweet baby cheeses...”

  The parade had already begun. Several men in suits and two women in business suit attire clicked their shiny black shoes up the front walk toward the door. They all wore severe business faces, and more than one of them held a tablet. A man who looked to be in charge led the way, his hair crisp and combed, his face serious. The rest of the group huddled after him like little ducklings.

  “Welp, guess that’s our cue to leave,” Meg said. “Nice meeting you.”

  I followed Meg through the front door, but our timing couldn’t have been worse. I watched horror spread across the door-greeter’s face as Meg and I found ourselves trapped in the narrow entryway with the entire corporate party—at least six of them plus us: a large pregnant woman, her boisterous friend, and a dripping plant—as we shuffled to find paths in and out of the building.

  “Hey,” Meg said, as one of the corporate folks opened the door and held it there. “How’s it going?”

  “Oh, that looks like a Venus flytrap!” One of the women nodded at my plant, giving us a broad smile. “I have one myself. Neat little guys, aren’t they? I think you should probably change his soil—he’s looking peaked. They’re finicky little buggers.”

  “Yeah, so we’ve heard,” I said, realizing that, although we’d stuffed Veenie-baby full of vitamins, we’d never actually repotted him like Marcy had instructed. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

  She nodded and continued on her way with the posse. Her hair was brunette, I noted, but she didn’t show an ounce of recognition when I met her gaze, so I mentally ruled her out of the game. Her blonde counterpart looked even more bored, and was a few pant-sizes too large to be the real Blondie.

  The greeter exhaled a sigh of relief as the group stepped into the building. Once the corporate squad had passed him by, he proceeded to stare us down until we’d climbed into our car and pulled away from the curb.

  “Weird place,” Meg said. “Anyway, do we still have that dirt for Venus? Maybe we should really replant him. I forgot about that whole thing.”

  “Meg!” I slammed the brakes and brought us to a full stop at the parking lot exit. “What if that’s the key?”

  “Yeah, I really think it is the soil. That’s why I just said that. Don’t go stealing my ideas, Lacey Luzzi.”

  “No, no—I mean, yes. Sure. Whatever. I’m talking about the corporate squad that just blew past us.”

  “What about them? Bunch of schmucks.”

  “You’ve got to stop calling everyone names. It’s going to get us in trouble.”

  “I thought schmuck just meant an office worker.”

  “Corporate. That’s what I’m getting at—we’re looking at the banks in terms of the actual branches. But if the ladies all had ID badges, that’d probably come from a corporate building.”

  “The corporate squad did have badges,” Meg said. “I noticed Veenie-baby dripping onto one of them when you brushed a little too close. Hold on a sec, and let me see if the corporate office is walking distance to the mall.”

  A quick Google search told us that, sure enough, Bank of the Lakes corporate building was only a few blocks away. Easily walkable on a nice day. Even in the bitter winter months it would be a doable hike with a facemask and gloves.

  “We have to get into that building,” Meg said. “You’re going to have to turn on your charm. I know it’s hard, what with all your oddball hormones these days, but maybe you can get us through the gates.”

  “I think I have a better idea,” I told her. “But I have one stop to make first. You feel like rattling some cages?”

  “Animal or human?”

  “It’s a saying,” I said.
“We’re not actually rattling any cages.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment flocked to Meg’s gaze. “I knew that. Then yes, let’s rattle some cages!”

  Chapter 14

  “LADIES.” DETECTIVE Rankle didn’t bother to show us to the interview room this time. “You’re back.”

  I nodded, foregoing my usual smile and greeting in response to his open lack of warmth at our visit. “We have some new information.”

  “By new information, I’m assuming you mean you’ve been poking around like I asked you not to?”

  “Poking is such a...” Meg made a few jabs with her finger. “Such an annoying word. I definitely wouldn’t call what we do poking.”

  “What would you call it, then?”

  “Hey, buddy, don’t love the attitude.” Meg stuck a hand on her hip. “After all, I have both cop and PI on my resume now, which means I’m basically—”

  “More qualified than me, right.” The detective faced me and offered a heavy sigh. “What can I do for you?”

  “You don’t want to sit down?” I asked. “It’s sort of a big reveal.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing my team hasn’t already uncovered. I apologize for rushing you, but I have some meetings to get to shortly.”

  “We think it’s an inside job.” I let my theory sit out there, studying him, watching for any reaction. Though I had no facts to back this up, nor had Clay confirmed my suspicions about Rankle’s character, I had to test it. I had to try my theory on for size.

  It paid off. The detective’s face flicked through a few colorful expressions before landing on his former stony one. “Why would you think that?”

  “Oh, let’s just call it our poking.” I smiled. “We’re very good at poking.”

  Meg reached out a finger and gave me a little poke on the arm, as if to demonstrate.

  “Well, enough with the poking.” His voice was layered with gravity, and his eyes notched darker with frustration. “My team can handle the investigation—alone. Without the help of...” He turned to Meg, a dig in his words. “Civilians.”

  “Oh, you did not just call me a civilian,” Meg said, snapping her fingers for lack of a more intimidating gesture. “I am an almost-certified—”

  “You’ll be declared certifiably insane if I have to take out a restraining order against you,” Rankle said, his voice a warning hiss. “Get out of my station. I don’t want to see either of you around here again. Are we clear?”

  I looped my arm through Meg’s and backed away. She wriggled free, made her way to the coffee machine and poured two full Styrofoam cups, and then headed outside.

  “I miss this crap,” she said, taking a sip of the piping hot liquid. “Anyway, do you think we hit a nerve?”

  “I think so,” I said, unable to hide my grin. “He was not happy to see us there. Did you see his expression when I suggested an inside job?”

  “He was racking his brain to find out how much we knew.” Meg bobbed her head in agreement. “While we’re on the subject, what more do we know? We don’t have proof that it was an inside job, do we?”

  “I’m hoping we’ll have proof by the time we get home,” I said. “Clay’s gotta be close to cracking that information we need.”

  “My home? No, girlfriend—nuh-uh. Not happening on my watch.”

  “What watch are you talking about?”

  “I am required to deliver you to your afternoon Lamaze class at Nora’s! Your grandmother put me in charge of getting you there. If you don’t go, I don’t get dinner.”

  “Harsh.”

  “Come on; let’s go practice your breathing,” Meg said, tailing me to the car. “In and out, chickadee, in and out. “Nora’s got pizza ordered, and if you think I’m risking my slice to get you out of this class, you’re dead wrong.”

  I yawned. “I’m tired already.”

  “That’s what happens to morning people,” Meg said. “You’re all used up by lunchtime. You miss all the fun hours of the day.”

  “Maybe you can drive home?”

  Meg took my keys in answer and cruised us to the Luzzi estate. I must have fallen asleep the second my head hit the seat rest because we made it lickety-split. In fact, when I woke, Meg wasn’t even in the car any longer. She’d simply parked me outside of the estate and left me in there with the windows cracked.

  I did notice, however, that she hadn’t abandoned Venus.

  That’s also when I noticed the set of gorgeous abs visible through the glass and the black long-sleeved shirt. I must have woken from the rap of Anthony’s knuckle on the window.

  “Oh, hey,” I said, popping the door open, blinking to get my bearings. “What time is it?”

  He shot me a quizzical look. “I spend all that money on a mattress, and you prefer to nap in the car.”

  “I don’t prefer it.” I leaned against him, thankful I had a big, strong husband who didn’t mind the few—scratch that, many—extra pounds sagging against him. “I’m just exhausted.”

  “That’s what happens when you head to a stakeout at four a.m. when you’re nearly nine months pregnant.”

  I yawned again. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “Three,” he said. “Judging by the drool stain on the seat, you’ve been out for a while.”

  “Drool?!” I spun around, but Anthony caught me mid-twirl and clasped my chin in his hands.

  “I’m joking, sugar.” He planted a kiss on my lips, decidedly drool-free, and then pulled back, his eyes flashing. “You look sexy, by the way.”

  I glanced down, realizing that my shirt had shifted all weird, and the top of my breasts spilled out of my now-too-small maternity tank top, and my zip up sweater was all but a memory on the car seat.

  “I really need to have this baby ASAP,” I said. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to afford to stay clothed.”

  “You say that like it’s a problem.”

  “It is when we have a group Lamaze class where Carlos is invited,” I said, linking my arm through Anthony’s as we strolled toward the house. “By the way, what did Nora bribe you with to get you here? You even have a smile on your face. I’m suspicious.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re having a baby. Our baby. It’s a team effort.”

  “Really? You’re going to be pushing a baby out of your private parts, too?”

  He frowned. “I just mean I don’t want to miss a second of the miracle of life. It’s our first child, Lacey. I want to be there for you.”

  “Nora bribed you with pizza, didn’t she?”

  “I got to pick the toppings.”

  I rolled my eyes just in time for Harold to open the door.

  “Wow, Mrs. Luzzi,” he admired fondly. “That is an impressive eye roll. You’ll want to tone that down for the general public as it can come off offensive.”

  “My husband’s only accompanying me to Lamaze class for the pizza.”

  “Pardon my honesty, Mrs. Luzzi,” Harold said, “but everyone’s only here for the pizza. Including yourself.”

  “Excellent.”

  “They’re in the second-floor ballroom. Oh, and you’ll be interested to know...no, I shouldn’t say it.”

  “What?”

  “The instructor for the class...” Harold paused, glancing at Anthony. “Never mind, you’ll see soon enough.”

  “What is it, Harold?” Anthony’s voice came out level, but the threat behind it was obvious. “I think I should hear this.”

  “The instructor of the class has been here before. Ira Bliss.”

  “Is that the yoga guy who looks like Jesus?” Anthony asked. “The one who hit on Lacey while she was all bent over in downward dog?”

  I averted my eyes, remembering the uncomfortable class. For so many reasons.

  “Sounds like the one to me, sir,” Harold said.

  To my surprise, Anthony didn’t turn around and disappear. With a more determined slant to his expression, he marched ahead of me up the stairs of the Grand Entryway and straight into the ballroom. I was h
alf a mile behind within the first few seconds and out of breath by the time I reached the doors.

  “There you are, Lacey.” Nora clapped her hands. “Everyone’s here now. Let’s get started.”

  “Lacey—” Clay barged toward me. “I need to talk to you...”

  “Lacey, our guest of honor!” Ira Bliss stepped forward, his hair longer than ever, his face deeply tanned and smooth. “It’s been so long, Miss Luzzi.”

  “Mrs.,” Anthony growled, appearing by my side and slipping his arm around my shoulder.

  “Of course.” Ira raised the back of my hand and brushed a light kiss against it. Though I retracted it quickly, Anthony’s glare pinned Ira Bliss against the back wall of the room and roasted him alive.

  “Let’s get started,” Nora said. “Everyone in their positions!”

  “What position?” I asked. “What is this class about?”

  “Preparing for the birth of your little human,” Ira said, his hands gesturing toward my stomach. “Bringing forth a free spirit into the world is mystical business.”

  “It’s medical business,” Anthony said. “One you won’t be involved with. Also, it’s a baby. You can call it a baby.”

  Ira ignored Anthony. “Lacey, let’s get you situated right up front.”

  Someone had wheeled what looked like Dr. Gambino’s exam table into the room.

  “Oh, no,” I moaned. “Please don’t make me do that. I’m not taking off my clothes. Are you sure we have to do this?”

  “Climb aboard,” Ira said cheerfully. “This is the practice run. Only a couple weeks until you’ll be separated from the little hum—er, baby that’s been connected to you for months. Physically, mentally, spiritually—er, medically.”

  I glanced around the room. Nora had recruited Meg and Clay, myself and Anthony, herself and Carlos, to join us in the ballroom. Nicky was there with his twins running around, though I had no clue why they needed to be involved.

  “He’s been through a few children,” Nora explained at my curious glance toward Nicky. “I thought he might have input.”