Monkey Wrench

by Terri Thayer

  Buster looked skeptical. “Why would a college kid want to live with an old lady?”

  “Watch it. Pearl would not appreciate that kind of talk.”

  “You know what I mean. What’s in it for him?”

  “Cheap rent, close to school. A home-cooked meal once a day. Wouldn’t you have liked that when you were in college?”

  “Nope, I much preferred living with four guys, none of whom could boil water and only one of whom hit the toilet with any regularity.”

  I splashed Buster. “Is that where your neatnik tendencies come from? Frat house trauma?”

  He splashed me back. Water dripped from his nose. I brushed it away.

  “I was never in a fraternity and you know it. We lived in a condemned public housing tract because it was the cheapest rent we could find.”

  Buster was the son of a single mom. Money had always been an issue in his life.

  “So if there had been a wonderful older lady you could have lived with, wouldn’t you?” I leaned back. “I think it sounds sweet.”

  “Are you sure this guy isn’t after her bank account?”

  “That would never happen. No way, not after what happened to Tess and Celeste. Pearl is too smart for that.”

  “What about Hiro’s vinyl collection? Isn’t that worth some money?”

  I sat up straight. “Yeah, but it’s not like someone could walk out with hundreds and hundreds of records.”

  “And you should warn her not to let the guy use her car. There could be expensive ramifications if he gets into a wreck.”

  My heart sank. Of course he was thinking of problems I’d never dreamed up.

  “Buster, you ruin everything. Why do you have to be a cop? You’re always looking for trouble.”

  He shrugged, wrung out the loofah, and set it on the edge of the tub.

  It was like asking a cat why it hated dogs. That was Buster’s nature.

  I closed my eyes. He did have a point. I didn’t know much about this kid. I’d been so eager to get Pearl some help, I hadn’t really thought it through.

  I’d call Pearl in the morning and tell her I’d had second thoughts. Slow it down.

  I conceded, “Maybe we’ll hold off until I can look into this a little further. Get some references, talk to some others.”

  “That’s a plan.”

  “As long as you’re in cop mode, can you stand a little shop talk?”

  Buster groaned and slid as if he was falling off the toilet seat. I took advantage of his vulnerable position and reached under his arms and dug my fingers in, tickling him. He wiggled out of my grasp and sputtered. He slammed his hand in the water and I backed away from the spray, laughing.

  “You trying to drown me?” I asked. “Just one question, I swear.”

  I didn’t wait for him to acquiesce. He’d answer my question. He always did.

  “I was looking at a Twitter feed today …” I’d keep it to myself that it was Wyatt’s. Buster’s tolerance had its limits. “And I saw a tweet about Provigil. A kid said he had some and was offering to trade. Do you know what that is? I never heard of it.”

  Buster squirted soap in his palm. He stroked my arm with the bubbles. He knew how to distract me. I leaned into his touch. I bit my lip to keep my focus.

  Buster said, “Provigil is what kids are taking to stay awake. I think it’s off use for some narcolepsy drug. He probably wanted something to perk him back up.”

  “But trolling for it on Twitter? Out there blatantly?” His hands were running up and down my legs. I felt myself begin to loosen. “Aren’t they worried they’ll get caught? I mean, it can’t be legal.”

  “First of all, we don’t have the resources to look at random Twitter feeds. And even if we did, if he’s not selling them there’s not much the police can do. Yes, it’s illegal but those kids are swapping out their meds like we swapped Magic cards.”

  I turned to stare at him. “You played Magic the Gathering in college?”

  Buster said, “All the cool kids were doing it.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, like I buy that. Get in,” I said.

  He brought his head around to look into my eyes. “You sure? You know what will happen when I get in there. I don’t want to interrupt your relaxation.”

  “Maybe I’m relaxed enough,” I said, dropping back, leaning against the back of the tub. I patted the water between my knees.

  Buster needed no more invitation. He peeled off his shorts so fast, I giggled. The water level rose precariously as he climbed in. More bubbles popped.

  He straddled me, facing me and scooted my hips closer until I was snugged in right against him. I felt his powerful thighs surround me.

  He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my shoulders. I cupped my hands and poured water on his chest. I liked watching it sluice through his tightly wound hair.

  The tub was an old-fashioned cast-iron type, meant to house an entire family for their weekly bath. Buster and I had searched for months for one that he could fit into. With both of us, the tub was not quite as accommodating. We had to lock our limbs together.

  Not that either of us minded.

  Buster kissed me softly. He nibbled the side of my mouth and worked his way down to my chest. I sat back and let him do all the work.

  The combination of the cool room air and the hot water flushed his face. He thumbed the inside of my knee, an erogenous zone I hadn’t known about until Buster. I closed my eyes. The feel of the water heightened Buster’s touch. I let my legs fall open and Buster’s fingers moved deliberately up my leg. My toes curled in anticipation.

  We stayed in the tub until the water had gone cold.

  Seven

  Monday morning, I was at the store early. I opened the window in the bathroom to dissipate the smell. Buster and I’d spent the entire day here yesterday painting.

  Ursula had a doctor’s appointment about her bum elbow and wouldn’t be in until noon. I would be working the floor for those two hours, so I needed to get a head start on the paperwork that kept me in my office. I was behind on bank deposits. I was hoping my order of custom wooden yardsticks would come today. Printed with QP’s name and logo, they were giveaways for the Crawl.

  First, I needed to track down the shipment from Lark. The books should have arrived by now. She was sending us her newest release. They were coming straight from the publisher because the official pub date was not until next week. We would be the first to have them. They were still in transit. The books were printed overseas and shipped by boat. It took nearly a week for the container ships to cross the Pacific.

  I wanted to know where the books were.

  Vangie loved this kind of hunt. Follow the paperwork, call the various entities, complain loudly. She always got results. But I hadn’t heard from her since she rode her bike home on Saturday.

  I left her a long voice mail. “I know the business of QP is the last thing you’re thinking of right now, but I could really use your help, what with the Crawl coming up on Wednesday. I can’t find Lark’s books. I’m way behind on the banking. QP online is bursting at the seams with orders that need to be filled. We’ve got new fabric that needs to go on the website. I’m trying to keep up, but I miss you terribly. Not to mention I’d love to see you. So come in. If you don’t feel up to it, do it anyway. For me.”

  I hung up and planted my face on my arms. Listing everything that needed to get done made it all real. I had only the next two days to accomplish way too much. It was impossible without Vangie. I hoped she understood that.

  I stood, making myself shake off the feeling of being overwhelmed. My mom smiled at me from the picture on the wall. She’d pulled off many of these events while raising four kids. I could do this.

  I could see a man standing outside so I opened the doors just before ten. He wanted to purchase a sewing machine. I handed him Freddy’s card and gave him directions to Santa Clara.

  I called Freddy to let him know. “I’m sending you a hot lead. Can you give it to
Rebekah? That might buy me some goodwill with her.”

  “Lots of luck. She doesn’t even like me and I write her commission checks.”

  “So, have you got all the Twitter baskets together?”

  “Waiting on Lark’s books,” he said. “Everything else is ready to go. I thought that’s why you were calling me. Don’t you have them yet?”

  “I know, I know. I’m trying to find them. The tracking number doesn’t exist. I tried calling the publisher but they’re on the East Coast and evidently the entire office takes lunch at the same time.”

  “We need those books, Dewey.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. Like a dumbass, I already put a note out on the Crawl Twitter feed that we had Lark’s newest books before everyone else.”

  “I saw that.”

  I sighed. “Well, not too many people are following us yet, so maybe no harm.”

  Freddy laughed, not in a funny way. “Think again. I retweeted to my followers.”

  I gulped. “How many?”

  “At last count, nineteen hundred.” He waited a beat to drop the bombshell. “Lark passed it on, too.”

  I gasped. I didn’t have to ask how many followers she had. Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands.

  I sank onto the checkout counter, my elbows splayed out, my hands holding up my face.

  “Hanging up now,” I said.

  “I’m going to be an optimist and assume the books will come in,” Freddie said. “I’ll be at your place tomorrow morning. Nine sharp. We’ll deliver the baskets, do our own mini Crawl.”

  I ducked into my office to check the Twitter account. As soon as I did, I heard the front door open, so I left the computer and went back up front.

  “Good morning, Dewey!”

  It was Sonya Salazar. Today she was dressed in black leggings, a hot pink fleece, flowing knit scarf, and fuzzy over-the-knee boots. The weather had turned cold overnight but she looked as if she was heading to Alaska. She was tiny and thin, so maybe she felt the cold more than the rest of us. Buster had gone off to work in shorts this morning.

  “Hi, Sonya. What’s happening?” I slipped in behind the cutting table. She was a welcome distraction.

  Sonya reached into an oversize portfolio that was serving as her briefcase. “I have a proposal for you,” she said. She laid a piece of paper on the rotary mat in front of me. “I have ideas for a few classes that I could teach here. I think they would be really popular with your customers.”

  I scanned the proposal. She’d listed three classes with short descriptions.

  “Color Vibrations. Pick the right hues for your quilt.”

  “Art is not a Four-Letter Word.”

  “You are So Creative.”

  “The titles are intriguing,” I admitted.

  “On the back is a detailed class curriculum. You’ll see I’ve laid out lesson plans for each week. Also a short bio and CV to introduce myself to your customers.”

  Sonya had put a lot of work into this. I glanced at the back. “I don’t have time to really study this right now, but …”

  “I understand. I just wanted to give you some ideas.”

  “This week is the Crawl … and Vangie, my assistant, is out sick.” I felt lame making excuses. Sonya was busy with her class load, yet she’d had the time to put this together. None of my other teachers did anything like this. Usually we sat around the kitchen table, talked about their idea or what was needed on the schedule, set up a few dates and put it on the calendar.

  If I was really truthful, the professionalism was a little intimidating.

  The door opened again. Lois came in, throwing her arms up in a ta-da motion.

  “Dew-ey! You called me …” She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Sonya. Her feet stuttered and I put a hand out to catch her even though I was not close enough to do any good.

  “Oops, pardon me, Dewey. I didn’t realize you had someone here. I just wanted my Quilters Crawl map.”

  “It’s okay, Lois. Come meet Sonya Salazar. She teaches at State and designed the map.”

  “You’re the one …” Lois said, with a spark of recognition. I handed her a map. She opened it. “It’s very pretty.”

  Sonya put a hand out and Lois took it gingerly. “Salazar, huh? What do you teach?”

  Sonya said, “Art. At State and several community colleges, too.”

  “Sonya wants to give some classes here,” I said.

  Lois screwed up her face. “I probably don’t have any extra money for class,” Lois said. “I’m on a fixed income now that I’m not working. However, I might be coming into some money. Then I would.”

  “How about signing up for our special Crawl promotion?” I asked. “You get alerts on Twitter.”

  At her blank look, I explained. “You would need access to a smart phone.”

  Lois shook her head. “I don’t know what that is.”

  Looked like Lois was not my target audience.

  “Some phones get Internet alerts,” Sonya explained.

  Lois shook her head. “Oh no. I must have a really stupid phone. All it ever does is ring and most of the time I don’t even hear it.”

  Lois unzipped her purse and showed us the generic flip phone.

  “Dewey!”

  That voice sent a chill down my spine. A chill of what now? I glanced down the hall to the back door. Just as I’d feared, Barb V.

  “Pardon me,” I said to Lois and Sonya. “I’ll be right back.”

  Barb V was opening the door to the bathroom when I reached her, letting out a grunt of dissatisfaction. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell of fresh paint wafted out. She toed the unfinished floor.

  My stomach clenched. Had anyone been thrown out of the Crawl because of an unfinished bathroom?

  “Still not completed?” she greeted me.

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  She frowned and nodded to the unfinished room.

  “The tile guys promised to be here this afternoon,” I said, regretting my words immediately. It was none of her business when my floor got done.

  “Something you need?” I asked.

  She tore her eyes off the untiled floor and stared at me. “You know what I need. My prize basket for your special promotion.”

  “Freddy has the baskets. I told you we’d get them to you.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t like to wait until the last minute.” Unlike some people was the unspoken message.

  “You don’t need to worry. You will have them in time for the beginning of the Crawl. The Emporium is not on the list for the Twitter thing until Friday anyway.”

  Barb V would not be put off. “What’s the problem? Why can’t I get mine now?”

  I rubbed my temples and glanced back at Sonya and Lois. Lois was showing Sonya the inside of her purse, zipping and unzipping the hidden pockets. Sonya, bless her heart, looked interested.

  “Like I said in my email, the Lark Gordon books are on the boat from South Korea. The publisher promises me I will have them today.”

  “But they’re not here yet. Have you tracked them down? Maybe they’re at the UPS depot. You could go pick them up.”

  “I can’t do that, Barb V. I can’t leave the store. I don’t have any employees here to cover.”

  I started walking, hoping to force her to back up down the hall. She’d left the door open, and a cold breeze was flowing in. I heard my heating system kick in. Money down the drain.

  My ploy didn’t work. She sidestepped me. I closed the door, wishing she was on the other side.

  “I’ll wait here while you contact the publisher. We must have an answer, Dewey.”

  Didn’t she have a store to run? A life to lead? Anything to do besides bug me? At least maybe I could keep her out of my office.

  “You worked with Sonya on the map, right? Go up front and say hello. She’s in the store.”

  “She’s in your store? Why?”

  I wasn’t about to tell her about Sonya’s idea to teach qu
ilters. I was afraid Barb V would steal her away from me. “She likes to stop by now and again,” I lied.

  “Well, she should come by the Emporium when she has time,” Barb V said huffily. Her chest pouched out like a pigeon’s.

  She steamed to the front, and I did a quick reconnoiter to make sure no new customers had ducked in while I’d been busy with Barb V. No one. Folks were waiting for the Crawl to go shopping.

  I went into my office, rehearsing what I was going to say to the publisher. I didn’t know how they were going to make books appear if those books were in the middle of the ocean, but …

  Vangie was at her desk. How I missed her coming in, I didn’t know. The Doc Martens she favored were far from quiet.

  I leapt into the room. “Vang, you’re here.”

  She nodded. She looked around the office as if it had been more than a few days since she’d been here. As if she was trying to remember what to do.

  “Thank goodness,” I said. “You’ve got to help me. Barb V is hounding me for the books for the Twitter promotion. I tried tracking the shipment. First I had the wrong number, now UPS shows it delivered. What does that mean? It’s not here.”

  “Move over,” Vangie said, nudging me out of the way. I gladly gave her access to my computer.

  I hugged her as we traded places. It was awkward but I was glad to have my hands on her. She laid her head on my shoulder and I felt her heave once before she got herself under control.

  “Are you okay to work?”

  Vangie looked distracted. She touched her backpack with her hand as if to make sure it was still there.

  I remembered my earlier feeling that she hadn’t told me everything. And she still hadn’t filled me in on what went on at the police station. I wanted the skinny on Zorn and Freddy’s brother, Larry, the attorney. We had a lot to discuss.

  Vangie sat down at the keyboard. “My mother and grandmother are hovering so much. And the little kids are noisy. I’ve got school later but I’m tired of the inside of my room. I needed to feel useful.”

  “Well, if you can figure out where those books are, you’ll be my rock star.”

  Vangie looked through the little window to the front.