“What did she do now?”
“She wants the wedding moved to Chicago.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t feel safe bringing her family to Detroit – where random people are getting shot on freeways,” Carly seethed.
“They’re getting shot in Chicago, too,” I pointed out. “Chicago’s murder rate is pretty much the same as Detroit’s now.”
“Not in the neighborhood they live in,” Carly shot back snottily.
“Just tell her everything is already set,” I replied pragmatically. “It’s already paid for. You’ll lose too much money.”
“She says she’s willing to cover the money.”
“What does Kyle say?”
“Kyle doesn’t want to upset anyone so he’s just going golfing for fifteen hours a day. He’s such a wimp.”
That sounded like him. He was actually a good match for Carly, mostly because he tended to be even-tempered while she flew off the handle. However, that easy nature was also why he stretched prone on the ground and let his mother walk all over him whenever she felt like it.
“You’re going to have to be firm with her,” I replied. “Just tell her no.”
“I can’t,” Carly whined. “If I’m too mean to her, things are going to get even worse than they are now. This woman is going to be a part of my life for years – unless I do get my wish and she’s hit by a commuter train.”
“Well, then move the wedding to Chicago,” I said. “Just know I won’t be there. I can’t leave town with a big story brewing.”
“I’m not moving the wedding.”
“Then I don’t know what you want me to do?”
“I want you to tell her.”
“You want me to tell her what?”
“That we’re not moving the wedding.”
“Why me?” Now I was the one whining.
“Because you have no problem being mean to people,” Carly replied. “And you don’t have to ever see her again after the wedding if you don’t want to.”
She had a point. “Fine. Put her on the phone.”
I listened as I heard Carly call for Harriet. After a lot of grumbling, I heard Harriet’s voice through the phone. “Yes, Avery, what can I do for you?”
“The wedding isn’t moving.”
“What?” Harriet sounded surprised by my tone. I don’t know why, it wasn’t even the meanest tone I had utilized with her this week.
“The wedding is staying put.”
“I really don’t think that’s any of your concern,” Harriet said primly.
“Really? Because this is Carly’s wedding and she wants it here. It’s paid for. Stop trying to take things over. This isn’t your wedding.”
“I don’t think I like the way you’re talking to me,” Harriet huffed.
“Well I don’t like talking to you,” I said. “We both have our crosses to bear.”
“You don’t have a vote in this decision,” Harriet reminded me.
“Neither do you,” I shot back. “This is Carly and Kyle’s wedding. She wants it here. You’re not the boss of her. You’re certainly not the boss of me and, quite frankly, I’m sick of your attitude. It’s no wonder your son wanted to go to college and settle in another state. It was to get away from you.”
Harriet was silent on the other end. I could hear some shuffling and then Carly was back on the line. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her to mind her own business.”
“You made her cry.” There was a bit of recrimination in Carly’s voice.
“So?”
Carly was quiet for a second. “Yeah, you’re right. She deserves it. You want to do something tomorrow?”
“I was going to check out Lexie’s yoga studio.”
“Okay, see you there at noon.”
Another crisis averted.
Twelve
Sunday is my favorite day of the week – and that’s not just because new episodes of The Walking Dead and Sherlock are starting soon. Mostly, just not entirely.
After a lazy breakfast with Eliot, I told him that I was meeting Carly at Lexie’s yoga studio. He looked more amused than anything else.
“I thought you hated yoga.”
“I’m not a big fan,” I agreed.
“Then why are you going?”
“I promised Lexie I would check out the studio,” I said, averting my gaze from Eliot’s. I wasn’t in the mood for another Lexie diatribe.
“And?”
“And Carly needs to chill out and there’s no better way to chill out than to go through intense pain.”
“Ah.”
“She’s just a little high strung right now,” I said.
“I thought she was always a little high strung,” Eliot sipped his coffee.
I narrowed my eyes in Eliot’s direction. “You can’t say that.”
“You say it all the time,” Eliot protested.
“I can,” I argued. “She’s my best friend.”
“Is that a girl thing?”
“No, it’s a loyalty thing,” I corrected him. “I can say whatever I want about her. You cannot.”
“That goes for Lexie, too, right?”
“Yes,” I replied firmly.
“Good to know.”
“It’s a learning curve, I understand.”
I got up to head to the bedroom and get dressed when Eliot stopped me with a look. “What?”
“I thought maybe we could take a quick shower together,” he said suggestively. “You know, loosen you up for yoga.”
“I’m not showering now.”
“Why? Aren’t you going out in public?”
“Yeah, but I’m going out in public to get all sweaty – without even the prospect of an orgasm. I’m not showering for that,” I explained.
“I could handle the orgasm end of that for you.”
I considered his offer for a second. “Okay,” I said finally. “I’m still not showering before yoga, though.”
I ROLLED into Lexie’s new studio only fifteen minutes late. I had an excuse ready -- Eliot needed help at his store – but I found Lexie and Carly sitting at the juice bar gossiping when I came in. I guess an excuse wasn’t necessary.
“Hey.”
“You’re late,” Carly admonished me.
“Eliot needed help in his store.”
“That’s such crap.” I was surprised when I saw Derrick straighten up from behind the bar. He had a hammer in his hand, so I guessed he was doing some sort of manual labor.
“It’s not crap,” I argued. “He needed help.”
“Like Eliot would let you interact with the general public,” Derrick scoffed. “He’s a businessman. He knows better than that.”
I stuck out my tongue at Derrick and then hopped onto the stool next to Carly. “So, how did things go with Harriet last night?”
“She cried and complained and begged Kyle to take her side.”
“What did you do?”
“I told Kyle to call you and argue it out with you.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, well, if you make him cry I won’t feel as bad as I would if I was the one that made him cry.”
“Always glad to help.”
I glanced around the yoga studio, taking it in for the first time. When Lexie rented the space in a Roseville storefront a few weeks before, I had been dubious. I had to admit, though, she had done a lot of work and it was starting to look pretty good. Lexie had painted the walls in a pleasing plum color. There were shelves on the walls – currently empty – but Lexie had said she planned on putting a variety of teas and apparel on the shelves over the next few weeks. The juice bar had been something she had found discarded on the street, but she had taken it in, refurbished it and fancied it up with some unique decoupage that made the juice bar look like a work of art instead of discarded garbage. The stools had come from the family restaurant and they were in pretty good shape.
“I thought you were doing classes?”
“Nothing scheduled,” Lexie said. “We’re doing a soft opening in two weeks. I’m just doing classes right now to get the word out. They’re more spontaneous than anything else.”
“Meaning she’s doing them for free,” Derrick said darkly. “What a great head for business she has.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Carly interjected.
“You do?” Derrick looked doubtful.
“Yeah,” Carly said. “The whole point is to get people in here. To get people talking. The store isn’t open yet. If she starts building up a clientele before it opens, even if it’s by offering free classes, that can only benefit her later on.”
Derrick considered Carly’s statement. “I guess you have a point,” he said grudgingly.
“Of course I have a point,” Carly said dismissively. “My business degree isn’t just for show.”
I smirked as Derrick scowled. “Now I see why you two are friends.”
“Why?” Carly asked curiously.
“You’re both condescending.”
“Says the cop,” Carly said knowingly.
“Excuse me.”
“My dad is a cop,” Carly reminded him. “I know how it goes.”
“Cops are assholes,” I agreed.
Derrick rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked him.
“The floorboard is loose down here,” Derrick said. “There was no reason for Lexie to pay for someone to come fix it when I could do it for free.”
“Your mom made you come,” I corrected him.
“It was strongly suggested,” Derrick agreed.
“And he loves his baby sister,” Lexie teased.
“That must be it,” Derrick deadpanned.
I ignored him and turned to Lexie. “So, have you decided on a name?”
“Yeah,” Lexie said excitedly. “I’m going with Yoga One That I Want.”
Derrick groaned while Carly and I considered. “I like it.”
“I do, too,” Carly agreed.
“It’s cute,” I added.
“It’s memorable,” Carly chimed in.
“It’s lame,” Derrick grumbled.
“You are just a ball of bright sunshine this morning,” I goaded him.
“That’s what happens when my mom calls at seven in the morning and tells me to get my ass over to Lexie’s yoga studio and act as a slave for a day,” Derrick replied. “As if the other six days I worked this week didn’t count for anything.”
“Translation: You wanted to get lucky with Devon all day,” I smirked.
“Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing with Eliot,” Derrick shot back.
“She already got lucky today,” Carly said knowingly.
“How do you know that?” I asked suspiciously.
“You have a glow,” Lexie interjected.
“Why couldn’t the freeway shooter just shoot me?” Derrick lamented.
I glanced over at him. “Speaking of, anything new on that front?”
“No.”
“No? Really? Or just no for me?”
“No for everyone.”
“For Devon?”
“There’s nothing new!”
“You liar,” I challenged him. “There is something new, you’ve just been ordered not to tell anyone.”
“Says you.”
“That’s why you didn’t put up much of a fight when your mom made you come over here,” I continued.
“Really?” Derrick looked nonplussed. “Have you ever said no to your mother?”
“All the time.”
“Well, I’m a good son,” Derrick replied.
“That way you don’t have to put up with her trying to cajole information from you,” I pushed on. “And I bet her methods of information extraction are a lot more . . . personal than mine would be.”
“Let’s hope,” Carly agreed.
“You’re such a know-it-all,” Derrick muttered. “It’s really annoying.”
“Especially when I’m right.”
“You’re never right.”
“So, I’m wrong?” I mused evilly. “So, I guess if I called Devon and left a message for you with her, you know, thanking you for the news tip, then things would be just hunky dory with the two of you?”
“Things are never hunky dory when you use the term hunky dory,” Carly pointed out.
“I’m tired,” I apologized. “I’m not at my best.”
“I hate you,” Derrick grumbled as he moved away from the juice bar.
“There’s another loose board in the other room,” Lexie sang out. “Can you fix that before you go?”
“I hate you, too.”
Whoever said spending time with your family on a lazy Sunday wasn’t fun had never spent time with my family.
Thirteen
“Mondays suck.”
“You have a way with words,” Eliot chuckled, sliding a mug of coffee across his small kitchen table in my direction.
“Seriously,” I grumbled. “How do you wake up looking so pretty?”
Eliot shook his head. “The word pretty makes me feel less manly. I told you to go with ruggedly handsome.”
“Are you torturing me this morning for any specific reason?”
“I just like watching you in the morning,” Eliot shrugged. “You’re so cute when you’re disheveled.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think the word disheveled does much for my self-esteem.”
“We’ll file it next to the word pretty.”
“In what? Our file of things we’re not supposed to say to each other in the morning?”
“Pretty much.”
“Great. We’ll put it between ‘the condom broke’ and ‘are you bloated for a reason.’”
Eliot barked out a laugh. “So, what’s on your agenda today?”
“Press conference at the sheriff’s department,” I grumbled. “It’s the first briefing from the new task force.”
“You say task force like there should be air quotes around it.”
“Derrick is on it. There should be.”
“I think you’re too hard on Derrick,” Eliot said. “He’s your family. You should be nicer to him. He’s got a good reputation.”
“You don’t feel that way about Lexie,” I reminded him.
“Lexie isn’t family. She’s a fluke.”
“Her yoga studio is looking really good.” I decided to change the subject.
“That’s good.” Eliot’s tone was airy.
“It is,” I agreed. “You should go see it.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
A FULL hour later I made my way into the sheriff’s department. The deputy behind the bubble was new – and he looked fresh off the police academy truck. I thought about messing with him, but I didn’t have the energy. If it had been any other day of the week, I probably would have made sure I made an indelible impact on him. As it was, I just flashed my press pass and winked at him as I made my way into the inner sanctum.
Since I was running late, I headed straight for the conference room. I noticed, upon entering, that I was the last media representative to arrive. The television drones were grouped around the donut table chatting. The weekly reporters were doing their best to stay out of their way. A print reporter from one of the big Detroit dailies was also there, and he was doing his best to pretend he was above all of this while a woman in a black pencil skirt and matching blazer stood in the aisle and talked to him. I didn’t recognize her. She didn’t look like a reporter. Her ebony hair was swept back in a tight bun and her high cheekbones were colored with just a smidgen of makeup. She obviously wasn’t with the television crews.
The woman saw me looking at her and took a step towards me. “And you are?”
“Who are you?”
The woman pursed her lips at my evasion but then extended her hand towards me. “My name is Christine Brady. I’m the new media l
iaison for the sheriff’s department.”
“Which sheriff’s department? Oakland’s?”
“No,” Christine shook her head. “I was just hired by Sheriff Farrell.”
“Why?”
“To be the face of the department,” Christine said blankly.
“He’s the face of the department.”
“Yes, but he can’t handle every little inquiry, can he? That would be just silly.”
He had so far. “I don’t understand.”
“The county board feels that Sheriff Farrell is spending too much time with individual media representatives, time that should be focused on his job,” Christine continued. “I’m here to make his job easier so he can focus on actual law enforcement.”
“So the county actually hired you,” I said knowingly. I had a feeling I knew which county board members had made this decision – the ones that Jake was constantly butting heads with. She was a spy.
“The county made the decision to hire me,” Christine said primly. “Sheriff Farrell agreed on my selection.”
“I just bet he did.” Whoops. Did I say that out loud?
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Christine was eyeing me curiously.
“Avery Shaw,” I said succinctly. “I’m from the . . .”
“The Monitor, yes,” Christine frowned. I had a feeling I was one of the media representatives the county commissioners had been worried about.
“I see my reputation precedes me,” I joked lamely.
“It certainly does,” Christine agreed.
“Why? What have you heard?” There was an edge to my voice. I heard it. I knew she did, too.
“I’ve heard that you’re tenacious,” Christine said. “That you’re a hard worker and you always get your story.”
Well, that wasn’t so bad.
“You’re also known for getting yourself personally involved in stories and your personal relationships with Sheriff Farrell and another deputy have become cause for concern.”
And that was more akin to what I expected.
“You mean my cousin Derrick? And I don’t have a personal relationship with Jake. We went to high school together.”
“And yet he’s often seen in public with you,” Christine pressed.
“Define seen.”
“Okay,” Christine said primly. “On occasion, Sheriff Farrell has been seen at your home.”
Shot Off The Presses: An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 4 Page 9
