Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery)

by Reinhart, Larissa

  His attempt to make me smile failed.

  “What took you so long to come?” I said, starting a fresh cascade of tears. “If y’all had gotten here sooner, Tater wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

  “Honey, the vet’s doing emergency surgery. Please don’t worry about Tater.”

  “I can’t help it,” I sobbed. “Stupid goat.”

  “We had a great response time, considering we couldn’t understand the caller and had to get the teams coordinated on the fly. The dispatcher heard the gunfire and used the landline to get your location.”

  “Miss David is not as cool-headed as she’d like to appear,” I mumbled, noting that jealousy made me unappreciative.

  Luke interrupted that thought. “She did fine. Not everyone charges into a situation with guns a’blazing like you. And what kind of idiot lunges at captured weapons when someone’s pointing a forty-five at their head?”

  “Since childhood, I’ve been trained by a sheriff to handle crisis,” I sniffled. “The worst thing you can do is panic.”

  “You should panic more,” Luke’s voice betrayed his hostility. “Maybe then you’d stay out of these situations. Thank the good Lord we were able capture Regis Sharp without your help. That fool tried to take on Miss April and got caught in a landslide in her trailer while she called for help. This time we had plainclothes waiting. And I had Ernie Pike picked up, too. You may have grown up around a sheriff, but some of us have had real training to serve and protect.”

  “There’s the Luke I know,” I said, noticing his confidence had returned. Mine reared its ugly head as well. “And I’ll have you know, if I had stayed hidden in the house with Miss David, Max would be dead and those three would have gotten away. Everyone would think the Bear had ordered the hijacking and was keeping illegals in his store as cheap labor. He told Elena he had flipped, but I know he hadn’t spoken to y’all. He doesn’t trust cops. And thanks to me, they now have those files with the name of the corrupt C.I.S. worker.”

  In the glare of the task-force lighting, Luke’s eyes appeared as burnished as new quarters. I caught a tremble in his hands as he brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek. “The Special Agents have been gathering information about Agadzinoff for months. They’ve been checking on the SipNZip ever since it opened. They didn’t need you playing Die Hard to catch Agadzinoff.”

  “So Tater sacrificed himself for nothing.”

  “Tater did good,” Luke sighed and brushed a kiss on my forehead. “When that goat gets out of surgery, I’m chaining it to your leg.”

  Forty-Two

  Squatting on the floor of my closet, I flipped a pair of Cody’s drawers out of my laundry basket with an irritated huff. The rumble of voices in my living room grew. I didn’t need to look at the clock to know the subject of their discontent.

  “Hurry it up,” Casey hollered from the room next door. “This shindig is for you. I know there’s such a thing as fashionably late, but you’re going to make Shawna real happy if we don’t make it.”

  I stopped pawing through my laundry to yell back. “I’m looking for something for Jerell. I got him a Special Agent cap.”

  “I saw a hat in Cody’s gym bag,” called Todd.

  “I didn’t take your damn hat,” yelled Cody. “And I’m not wearing any tie, so don’t try and make me.”

  “I can’t find anything in this house anymore,” I said, echoing my daily complaint for the last month, and tried to show my anger by stomping in my teetering heels without success.

  “What in tarnation is taking you so long?” Pearl said, appearing in my doorway.

  She wore her cruise ship dress, a spangled shift that thankfully covered her goat tattoo. I didn’t like any reminders of Tater, who now hobbled on three legs because of me.

  “I’m looking for something,” I tried not to sound impatient. I owed much to Pearl. For a week, Grandpa wouldn’t look at me. He had kept himself busy calming goats who refused to milk after a gun battle and dealing with the legalities of a shot-up house. Pearl said he couldn’t stand the thought of someone shooting at me. Oddly enough, Grandpa’s withdrawal had brought Pearl and I closer.

  “Ed’s coming later tonight,” she said. “He had to chat with the insurance folks about getting the porch rescreened first.”

  “I understand,” I said, although I wondered how long he could avoid talking to me about what had happened. “I hoped he could see the paintings that made everyone so upset. Then maybe he’d know the Greek Todds weren’t that big of a deal.”

  “He believes in you, honey,” Pearl thumped the door. “I’m looking forward to seeing that sweet Mr. Max. Harassed by the authorities, tore up his knee, and now doing this show for you. The man is a saint.”

  “The Bear is nowhere near a saint,” I lectured. “He’s likely to take a chunk of profit from this charity show for Miss Gladys. Never mind I could use some philanthropic support now that Rupert’s bank accounts have been seized and his deposit for the incomplete portrait bounced.”

  “I thought you liked Mr. Max,” Pearl frowned. “How on earth he got Shawna Branson to give gallery space for you, I’ll never know.”

  “Shawna misunderstood the Bear’s intentions. She thought the show was for her and not me. And he allowed her to think that until the last minute while he attended the Concerned Citizens meetings with her.” I studied my toes. “And allowed me to think he was interested in Shawna’s pants for a while.”

  “What would he want with Shawna’s pants?” Pearl scoffed.

  Casey snuck into the doorway beside Pearl. “Who wants Shawna’s pants?”

  “Not Mr. Max,” said Pearl. “He’s a sweetie.”

  “I thought you said he was interested in some David chick,” said Casey.

  “I don’t know what to think.” I stared at my Tutu-pink nails. “He gave me some mixed signals, but I have been known to misinterpret men’s advances. Luke Harper, who I have not seen for weeks, did as well. I thought we had a moment.”

  I cast a glance at my bedroom door. “They are both making Todd’s loyalty look awful good.”

  “Boo-yeah,” Todd hollered from the living room. I could sense his fist pump and high five from Cody.

  “Which means nothing,” I yelled back. “If I wanted to be with you, I wouldn’t have annulled our marriage.”

  Casey snorted. “Marriage isn’t so bad.”

  “You married a man so he could keep his visa.”

  “And for the sex.” She waggled her thinly waxed and penciled eyebrows.

  “If you weren’t married, I’d smack you,” said Pearl. “What a thing to say.”

  “I am still not talking to your husband either,” I said. “Nik never fixed my truck and now I have no vehicle while Rupert’s house remains bound in crime tape. And if Nik had told me Rupert was keeping him as an indentured servant, I would have reported it to the authorities and saved everyone a lot of grief.”

  “Not his fault. Can I help it if Nik didn’t trust you? And he was too busy driving me to Panama Beach? The man swept me off my feet.”

  “I feel sorry for Nik when you’re feet finally touch the earth,” I said. “And I feel sorry for the rest of us until y’all move out of my house.”

  “According to Grandpa, this is not just your house,” Casey swiveled a metallic red hip and planted a hand on it. “And Nik is used to living like sardines in old, drafty houses. He’s European.”

  “Come on, Casey,” said Pearl, astutely judging our brewing combat. “Leave her so she can find the whatnot for the little boy.”

  Casey whirled from me and slammed into her honeymoon non-suite. Pearl dusted her capable, goat-tending hands of us and strode to the living room to wrangle the boys. The front door banged open. I jumped, then chastised myself for acting nervy. The din in the living room grew louder.

  I blew out my irritation with Casey and continued my search for the hat. Cody’s gym bag lay in the hall. I shook out a jumble of tools, clothes, and a book. No hat. I picked up th
e novel and flipped through the pages. The last time I had seen Cody with a book had been high school and even then, the binding had remained fresh.

  Several photos had been stuck between the pages. I pulled out an old snapshot, but before I could examine it, I glanced up and saw Luke standing in my hallway, studying me. In his hand, he held a box wrapped in white paper and decorated with a white bow. He wore his snug jeans and his cop mask with the serious, undimpled expression. My heart did a short dive, and I silently lectured myself on the stupidity of excitement over nothing.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “Wedding present,” he replied and handed me the box. “From my mom.”

  Still holding the photo, I shoved the book under one arm to take the gift. “This is unexpected. Casey will be thrilled, though. Thanks.”

  “Mom heard about the wedding. Congratulations.” He shrugged. “Took me a while to get over here, but you know why.”

  “No, I don’t know why,” I tipped a shoulder. “Except I figured you really don’t want to see me.”

  “You’re married. What do you expect?”

  “I’m not married. Casey’s married. To Nik and his green card,” I gasped. “Is that what the town thinks? That I got married again? Why doesn’t anybody tell me these things?”

  “You’re not married? Todd’s been living with you.”

  “I told you we’re friends. He’s been out of work.” I pointed to the air mattress on the floor of my bedroom. “That’s his bed. Not mine.”

  Luke lunged, and I dropped the wedding gift and book. The snapshot fluttered in my hand, but before I could release it, Luke pulled me into the bedroom, slammed the door shut, and pinned my body against the door. His face hovered over mine.

  “Tell me this again,” his husky voice rang with bitterness, “because for the past few weeks I was under the impression that you were Todd McIntosh’s wife.”

  “Who gave you that impression?” I said, tilting my chin up. “Did you ask my Uncle Will or Red or anybody I know? Because they would have told differently. I would have, too, if you would talk to me.”

  “I didn’t want to talk to anybody you knew. I’ve been avoiding the subject of Cherry Tucker all together.” His breath smelled of mint and liquor, like he had fueled himself with liquid confidence before appearing on my porch. “I just now found out this art show thing is for you.”

  “That means you’ve been talking to Shawna.” My eyes narrowed. “I would love to not have to tell you I told you so. But I told you so.”

  “I’m not talking to her either. My momma told me about the show and your marriage,” he pounded the door with a fist and stepped deeper into my personal space. “Why is Shawna doing this to you?”

  “Because she hates me.” And you love me? I couldn’t think those words, much less say them aloud. “And she would like to humiliate and hurt me any way she can.”

  “You are both hurting me.” He leaned his forehead against mine.

  “How am I hurting you?” I had trouble focusing. His eye color had deepened from cool Payne’s gray to charcoal.

  His hand stroked my face. “You scare me.”

  “How do I scare you?” My mouth bumped against his thumb.

  He drew a gentle line over my bottom lip. I scrunched the snapshot in my palm and allowed my hands to slide up to his shoulders.

  “I don’t know. You just do,” he said and replaced his thumb with his mouth. His kiss pulled the breath from my body, and when I found myself teetering on my toes, he nudged his leg between my thighs to hold me upright.

  “Wait,” I panted when we pulled back for air. “Are you mad at me or not? Because I might still be mad at you. You’re a horrible communicator. You don’t listen to me.”

  Before I could give more reasons for our failures, he captured my mouth again and did more personal space invasion. I moaned as his hands became reacquainted with my body.

  “Slow down,” I begged. “I’ve got to go to the show. Come with me and we’ll make up later.”

  “I can’t,” Luke pulled away, sighing. “I thought you were married.”

  “I know,” I said and ran happy fingers through his curls. “But I’m not. I never really was.”

  “What I mean is, I started seeing someone else.”

  While I searched for my jaw on the floor, Luke yanked my bedroom door open and stepped into the hall.

  “I’ll fix this,” he called, hustling through the crowd and out the front door before I could find my tongue.

  Heads poked out of doors to gape at me, but I ignored them.

  “What the hell,” I said to his retreating back and glanced down at the crumpled snapshot still fisted in my palm. I smoothed it, took another hard look at the photo, and felt my mouth go dry and my knees weaken.

  “Momma?” I whispered. Why did Cody hide a picture of our mother? The photo was candid, taken from a distance and blurry, but I knew her immediately. I tore my gaze off the pretty blond and searched my memory for the identification of the other person in the photo. A handsome, dark haired man who had an arm slung possessively around my momma’s waist. A man who was not my daddy. Someone I had seen in another photo recently.

  Billy Branson.

  These were Shawna’s friggin’ missing photos?

  “What. The. Hell.”

  Reader’s Discussion Guide

  1. Cherry sketches a composite of the hijacking suspect because she’s the only artist the Sheriff knows. Have you ever been asked to do a project outside your experience but still within your skill set?

  2. Whenever Cherry gets “distracted” by a man, she blames it on her mother. Do you agree or disagree with her reasoning?

  3. Have you ever known someone who sought to cover their own embarrassments by making other people look worse? How does Shawna compare to your example? How did you handle it?

  4. The story of the SipNZip was loosely based on an actual Department of Labor Special Agent case. What real crime stories have you heard that might make for good fiction?

  5. Several different characters complain that Cherry talks too much and gets involved in things that are not her business. Do you think these flaws negatively or positively influence her character?

  6. Cherry says she and Luke “carried baggage that didn’t fit through one another’s doors.” Why can’t Cherry and Luke just move on in one direction or the other?

  7. Have you known anyone like Pearl who began a relationship with someone with a preexisting family? Are the grandchildren’s feelings fair toward her? How would you mediate their dispute?

  8. What do you think Shawna’s pictures represent? Why are they so important to Shawna, and will they mean to the Tucker kids?

  10. Which character do you most relate to or you feel you’re the most similar to? And which character do you wish you could be more like?

  About Larissa Reinhart

  Growing up in a small town, Larissa Reinhart couldn’t wait to move to an exotic city far from corn fields. After moving around the US and Japan, now she loves to write about rough hewn characters that live near corn fields, particularly sassy women with a penchant for trouble.

  Hijack in Abstract is the third in the Cherry Tucker Mystery Series from Henery Press, following Still Life in Brunswick Stew (May 2013) and Portrait of a Dead Guy, a 2012 Daphne du Maurier finalist. Quick Sketch, a Cherry Tucker prequel to Portrait, is in the mystery anthology The Heartache Motel (December 2013).

  She lives near Atlanta with her minions and Cairn Terrier, Biscuit. Visit her website larissareinhart.com or find her chatting with the Little Read Hens on Facebook.

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  And finally, before you go...

  Here are a few other mysteries

  you might enjoy:

  In Case You Missed the 1st Book in the Series

  PORTRAIT OF A DEAD GUY

  Larissa Reinhart

  A Cherry Tucker Mystery (#1)

  In Halo, Georgia, folks know Cherry Tucker as big in mouth, small in stature, and able to sketch a portrait faster than buck-shot rips from a ten gauge -- but commissions are scarce. So when the well-heeled Branson family wants to memorialize their murdered son in a coffin portrait, Cherry scrambles to win their patronage from her small town rival.

  As the clock ticks toward the deadline, Cherry faces more trouble than just a controversial subject. Between ex-boyfriends, her flaky family, an illegal gambling ring, and outwitting a killer on a spree, Cherry finds herself painted into a corner she’ll be lucky to survive.

  Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon

  CLICK FOR PORTRAIT OF A DEAD GUY

  Don’t Miss the 2nd Book in the Series

  STILL LIFE IN BRUNSWICK STEW

  Larissa Reinhart

  A Cherry Tucker Mystery (#2)

  Cherry Tucker’s in a stew. Art commissions dried up after her nemesis became president of the County Arts Council. Desperate and broke, Cherry and her friend, Eloise, spend a sultry summer weekend hawking their art at the Sidewinder Annual Brunswick Stew Cook-Off.