Caught in the Crotchfire (A Trailer Park Princess Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Kim Hunt Harris

  “G-Ma?” I asked, concerned at the deadly silence.

  “It was the cops,” she whispered. “I almost pointed a gun at the cops.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” I said, dodging McTavish’s snapping white teeth.

  “We’ll see. Oh, I almost forgot. We’re staying in Amarillo for the weekend.”

  I went still. My blood ran cold. “What?”

  “Your mom wants to have a girls’ weekend with us and her new sisters-in-law. So we’re going down tomorrow morning and coming back Sunday night. We’re getting pedicures. That’s the one on your feet, right?”

  I murmured something, I wasn’t sure what. The blood was rushing through my ears too loudly for me to be sure.

  A girls’ weekend? With G-Ma and Mom? And the sisters-in-law?

  I’m not sure I even said goodbye. The next memory I had was of staring at my phone, trying to decide between Viv and Les.

  “Windy, call Les,” I finally said.

  When he picked up, I said, “I give. I can’t love this.”

  “What’s going on?”

  I briefly considered that Les was to me what I was to G-Ma. Which was fine, but since the converse must also be true — I was to Les what G-Ma was to me — I took a deep breath and asked myself if I might be overreacting.

  No. No, I was not.

  “Mom wants me and G-Ma to spend the weekend with her and her new family in Amarillo. A girls’ weekend. With frigging pedicures! I seriously don’t think I’m ready for that. It’s enough to contemplate a few hours. But an entire weekend? And I have to take my shoes off? And they drink. I saw some pictures of one of their parties and there was wine and some other mixed drinks. I’m sure there will be alcohol. I can hold out for a couple of hours. But not for an entire weekend of enforced togetherness.”

  “Then you won’t stay for the weekend.”

  “I won’t?”

  “You’ll go up for the brunch, you’ll be supportive of your mother, and then you’ll come back.”

  “That’s not going to go over very well.” I could already feel the drama. I would be deliberately trying to sabotage Mom’s relationships. I would be selfish and childish. She would think of some passive-aggressive way to get back at me.

  “You’ll tell your mother you’re very happy to go to the brunch, but unavailable to spend the entire weekend on this short notice.”

  “How will that even work, though? I’m driving up with G-Ma and I have no way to get back.”

  “We can find a way.”

  I felt really bad then, because if he had to, Les was not above driving the ice cream truck all the way to Amarillo to pick me up.

  “I’m sure I can find a way back home. Maybe I can bring G-Ma’s car back and then Mom can bring her home Sunday. Or I can meet her halfway or something.”

  “See, when you put your mind to it, you find a way.”

  “Are you sure this is the loving thing to do?” I asked. It felt kind of chicken-booty-ish.

  “Absolutely. You’re on the list for loving, too, Salem. You’re not being difficult, and you’re not being selfish. You’re taking care of yourself. That’s love, and you don’t want to fail yourself or you can’t be there for anyone else.”

  I hung up and put a bow around McTavish’s neck, narrowly missing one last snap of his brilliant white teeth. I thought about what Les had said. Les was the most selfless person I knew, and if he thought it was okay for me to bow out of the girls’ weekend thing, it should really be okay.

  I couldn’t help but think I needed a way to spin it, though. After considering a few things, I called G-Ma back.

  “Who are you getting to watch the motel while you’re gone this weekend?”

  “Rosa. Why?”

  Rosa was Mario’s sister, and she worked the desk while G-Ma was at bingo and her weekly hair appointment. Rosa was dependable and sweet but had begun to show some alarming narcoleptic tendencies.

  “Oh…” I let that hang there for a few seconds, so the doubt could build. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  G-Ma didn’t respond.

  “Does she also shoot? I mean, you know…in case the Bandits show up?”

  “She said she would, if the Bandits came.”

  “Then she probably would. I mean, she’s probably braver than she seems.”

  Rosa was short and round, with red cheeks and a smile that never faded. And she could be quite fierce with things like roaches or mold on the motel shower curtains. So it was possible…

  “I’m not going,” G-Ma said. “I can’t be waltzing out of town like I don’t have a care in the world, not now that my very livelihood is threatened.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” I said, sweeping up McTavish’s hair while I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder. “You know how Mom will be if you don’t come. She’ll say you’re being selfish and childish. That you’re trying to ruin her happiness.”

  “She’ll find some passive-aggressive way to get back at me.”

  “Exactly.” I paused for a second, but not too long. “You know what we could do?”

  “What?”

  “Wait, let me think this through…what if we get Rosa to work the front desk just for the day. You and I will drive up to Amarillo. I’ll drive your car back home. I can be back by mid-afternoon. I’ll relieve Rosa and stay the night at the motel. Watch over things.”

  “Hmm…”

  A year ago, this would have been a non-starter. Then again, a year ago I was newly sober and about as undependable as a person could get. Since then, I had been sober and faced down not one but two cold-blooded murderers and — perhaps most frightening of all — a dognapper. My street cred had gone up considerably in G-Ma’s estimation.

  I jumped into the breach left by her silence. “Mom could bring you back Sunday afternoon. Or we could meet halfway.”

  “There’s that truck stop at Tulia.”

  “Exactly. Then, in a couple of weeks or so, Mom can come down here, and we can do another girls’ weekend here.”

  “Well…”

  I decided that sounded enough like yes. “It’s settled, then,” I said. “This will work out better. You can enjoy your time with Mom, knowing the motel is in good hands, and I won’t have to mess with getting a sitter for Stump.”

  I dropped the broom and clamped my hand over my mouth. I should not have brought up Stump!

  “You’re not bringing that dog to my motel,” G-Ma said. “No. We’re not allowed to have animals in there anyway.” Like she wasn’t the one who made that rule.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean not mess with finding a sitter,” I said. “I just meant, she can stay with Frank and I’ll rest easy knowing I’m still close enough in case an emergency comes up.”

  She made a few more noises of protest, but I lovingly mowed down all of them by repeating things like, “You’re exactly right, this is going to be a lot better,” and “Exactly, that’s why this is such a good idea. I’m glad you thought of it.”

  Love might never fail, but sheer bullheadedness also had its day from time to time.

  I went home that evening (courtesy of Doreen, who also promised to bring me her next-to-latest Snow Baby catalog so I could see what I was missing) expecting a few more calls from G-Ma. There would be the requisite false alarm calls about the Bandits, of course, but I knew she wouldn’t get through the evening without at least three reassurances that we had a good plan for the weekend and everything was going to be fine. What I did not expect was an actual problem the first time my phone ding-donged.

  “Well, we’re not going.”

  “G-Ma, what’s wrong?”

  “My car. It’s cratered. I went to the post office this afternoon and it blew a gasket or something right in the middle of Buddy Holly Avenue.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I am not. And you’re not going to guess who was Johnny-on-the-spot to call the tow truck and drive me back home.”

  I couldn’t imagine. “Who?”
<
br />   “Your friend. That — that — ”

  I knew of only one person who could cause this level of sputtering in G-Ma. “Viv?”

  “Exactly! I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if she had something to do with it.”

  “I would. She knows less about cars than I do. And why would she do that, anyway?” The two of them had never been within spitting distance of each other without Viv goading G-Ma into a hissing, cursing fit.

  “Oh, you should have seen her, like an Empress in that gaudy new Cadillac of hers. Acting all helpful and concerned.” She made a humph noise.

  I almost felt bad for Viv. She would hate the idea that G-Ma was trash-talking her and she missed it — especially the “gaudy new Cadillac” remark. I would have to remember to tell her.

  My phone made a beeping sound, and I pulled it away to look at it. What was this?

  Incoming call from Viv.

  “G-Ma, hang on. I have another call.”

  “Your other call can wait! I’ve just been left stranded on the other side of town and now here I am, high and dry. What if the Bandits show up now, huh? What then?”

  I took a deep breath and did not say, “What? Were you planning to mow them down with your Lincoln? If they survived the shooting?” Instead, I said, “Let me just reject the call, then, and I’ll be right back.”

  I seriously meant to reject the call, but I accidentally hit “accept” instead. Or maybe it was a Freudian finger-swipe, I don’t know.

  “You’ll never guess where I’ve been,” Viv said, before I could finish saying hello.

  “You rescued G-Ma from Buddy Holly Avenue and drove her back to the motel.”

  “She already called you? I wanted to tell you! You should have seen her! I thought she was going to flare her neck out and start spitting poison at me.”

  “She called your new car gaudy.”

  “She did?! Seriously? Oh, I wish I could have heard that!”

  “I knew you’d want to know.”

  “Yes, thanks. Take notes of anything else she says. I showed her how to use the zoned climate control and the 37-point seat adjustment. Did she say anything about that?”

  “We didn’t get that far. We were just talking about how the trip to Amarillo is off now and — ”

  “Oh, that’s why I called! I am going to Amarillo to have my car worked — I mean, looked at, by a, um, software specialist from um, Germany. He’s only in Texas this one day and I am taking the car up there so he can check the programming — ”

  “You’re having trouble with the car already?”

  “No.” Her tone was resentful, as if it was stupid to even think it. “It’s just one of those normal bugs that happen when you introduce cutting edge technology. And it’s nothing, really, just an occasional dinging sound that needs to be reprogrammed. But they’ll have to send the car back to Detroit unless I can get it to Amarillo tomorrow, while this guy’s in town.”

  “The guy from Germany?”

  “Something like that, yeah. He has a layover in Amarillo tomorrow at three. So anyway, I can drive you up there and bring you home.”

  Driving up and back with Viv sounded so much more fun than driving up with G-Ma and driving her car back alone. Plus, maybe G-Ma really would flare up and spit poison, and I hated to miss a chance at that.

  “Excellent!” I said. “Les and Bonnie are coming to my trailer at eight-thirty so we can pray before we go. Can you be there then?” I didn’t say, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask Les to throw in an extra prayer for safe travels, since Viv was driving.

  I called G-Ma back. “Sorry about this. It’s this crazy new phone, I can’t figure out how to work it.”

  She humphed again. “I’ll call your mother and tell her we can’t make it. She’s going to pitch a fit, of course, but it can’t be helped.”

  “It can be helped,” I crowed. “Viv is going to drive us. She’s going to Amarillo anyway.”

  “The hell she is!” G-Ma barked. “I’m not going — ”

  “Ooops, G-Ma, hang on,” I said, pulling the phone away from my ear. I bounced it against my leg a couple of times, then blew lightly into the speaker. “G-Ma, are you there?”

  “Of course I’m here, where would I be with no car and no way to get — ”

  “G-Ma? Can you hear me?” I bit my tongue to keep from laughing.

  “I can hear you fine. It’s you who can’t hear me! If you’d have a regular phone like normal people — ”

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning around nine o’clock. Bye!”

  By the next morning I was beginning to feel kind of bad for how I’d treated G-Ma. Her passionate hatred for Viv might be amusing to me (and to Viv) but she deserved my respect, if nothing else than for all the time she’d provided a safe haven for me away from Mom and her many male “interests.” So while Les was praying for compassion, family renewal, open hearts and safe travels, I was praying repentance for manipulating G-Ma and finding pleasure in her displeasure.

  I might as well put that prayer on a loop, I thought as Viv and I pulled up and G-Ma scowled through the blinds at us, her chin jutted out.

  She started in as soon as we got there. Rosa wasn’t there yet, but she’d called and said she was on her way.

  “They’re gonna rob me blind. I know it. As soon as I step out that door, they’re gonna come in here and take everything I got.”

  “You don’t keep cash in the office, do you?” I asked. I knew she regularly made Friday afternoon deposits, so there probably wasn’t much to steal anyway.

  G-Ma threw a suspicious glance toward Viv. “Of course not. I’m no fool.”

  Viv rolled her eyes. “Honey, whatever you have in this room, I don’t need.”

  I stepped between them to avert a certain old-lady cat fight. “It’s just one afternoon, and Mario will keep an eye on the place, won’t he?””

  “He said he would.” She rolled crimson lips together. “But he’s busy with his own stuff and keeping his eyes on all those kids.”

  “How about I go over there and talk to him, make sure he understands the need for vigilance,” I offered. “You finish getting ready.”

  “Yeah, we’ll go talk to him. Looks like it’s going to be a while before you’re ready to go anyway,” Viv snarked over her shoulder.

  Mario did, indeed, have his hands full with cooking and dispatching orders in rapid-fire Spanish to the army of nieces and nephews who carted the soft-sided tamale carriers all over town, spreading joy like a Tex-Mex goodwill army. One after another, he sent them out the door with a carrier full of tamales and an ear full of instructions. One by one, they smiled and nodded and left for their routes.

  He dusted his hands and then grabbed a warm foil-wrapped package to hand to me. “You eat?”

  It was clearly too early to eat tamales, but I didn’t want to be rude, so while I talked I peeled back the foil. “G-Ma is worried about the robberies,” I said.

  He nodded vigorously. “Si, si, the Bandits.” Then he pounded on the metal door to his right, which rang impressively. “New door.” He moved faster than his short legs should have allowed over to the drive-thru window and ran a hand around the edge. “New window.” He pointed across the room at the walk-up window. “New window.” Then at the back door. “New door. New — new —” He snapped his fingers together a couple of times, looking for the word. “New alarm system.” Then he spread his hands wide and smiled. “No Bandits!” He swiped his hands back and forth. “No Bandits here.”

  I smiled back. “Excellent. It looks like you’re well protected.”

  He nodded. “Si.”

  “Would you mind just kind of keeping an eye on the motel office? Call the police if you see anything suspicious?”

  He looked confused.

  “You know, if a car pulls up and four guys with black masks get out? Call the police?”

  He smiled. “Si, yes, I’ll call the police.” Then he held up a finger and gave me a wink. “For th
e Bandits. But not for the chicas.” He nodded.

  “The chicas?”

  “Si. The chicas.” Again with the wink.

  “What chicas?”

  He grinned. “The chicas.” He held up a hand and rubbed his thumb against his first two fingers in the universal symbol for money. “Virgie’s finally making some money. I won’t report her. She needs the money.” Then he laughed. “Now she make so much, she crooked the bank.”

  Viv frowned. “What are you even saying, she crooked the bank?”

  “She put so much money in,” Mario said with a grin, sliding his hands forward as if laying something on a shelf. “The bank, it goes crooked.” He leaned to the left from his waist, as if demonstrating a tall building going “crooked.”

  “Really,” I said. I looked over at the motel parking lot. As I watched, a pickup pulled into the lot and a fat man with filthy jeans and an oily ball cap got out, followed by a woman wearing very short shorts and very high heels. At nine o’clock in the morning.

  “What the heck?” I said.

  “Is that — ”

  “Si,” Mario said with a bright nod. “It is.”

  I marched out the door and across the parking lot, Viv right behind me.

  I pounded on the door the fat man and hooker had just gone into.

  A scrambling noise, followed by silence.

  I pounded again. “Hey!” I shouted. “Open up!”

  “Don’t tell them to open up!” Viv hissed at my elbow. “What if that fat man is already naked? We don’t need to see that!”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m Virgie’s granddaughter. She needs to talk to you.”

  “Ummm, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  “Just for a second,” I said. “It won’t take long.”

  The door opened a crack. “What?”

  “How much are you paying for this room?” I asked, because the first question that came to mind (what are you doing in there?) seemed suddenly very stupid.

  “What’s it to you? We settle up with Virgie at the end of the night. She hasn’t been shortchanged yet, and she’s not gonna be.” She looked at me, then at Viv. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”