by Laney Monday
“You’re welcome.” He took a sip of the hot coffee.
“I’m sorry…about the way I’ve been acting lately.”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s a lot going on. You’re working a lot. With kids. And I know you liked Millie.”
“It’s been hard. But that’s no excuse for being a jerk.” I dipped the straw through the hole in the whipped cream dome, scooped out a blob of caramel, and sampled it. Scrumptious. “So, how’s the investigation going?” I dared to ask.
“What investigation?” He blinked at me innocently, and I knew he was kidding.
“The one I texted you about. Thanks for answering, by the way,” I said sarcastically.
“You’re welcome.” He took another drink, then said, “Glenda deleted the picture.”
“She what!” I put my hand in front of my face just in time to shield him from the whipped cream spraying out of my mouth. I swallowed. “Sorry. How could she delete the picture?”
“She was very apologetic. She said it was a new camera and she hadn’t quite figured out ‘this digital thing’ yet.”
“I thought she was a bird-watcher/photographer.”
Will held up his pointer finger and put on a stern, teacherly expression. “Don’t forget ghost-watcher. Very important. But unfortunately the photography part is a new hobby for our newly retired Glenda and our Still-Working-and-on-Vacation, Dang-It! Ford.”
I couldn’t help laughing. So, Ford had given Will the same impression he’d given me. But poor Millie. Will suspected foul play too. At least he must think it was a possibility. And the best evidence available had been destroyed. “So, now what?”
“Well, before they left town, Glenda gave me a description of what she captured in the photo, and what she thinks she saw. And I need to interview anyone else who might’ve seen that picture before it was destroyed.”
“Ah. So that’s why you’re here in that handsome uniform, officer.”
I didn’t flirt much. I really wasn’t sure how to do it, after years and years of sending the don’t mess with me message to men from Rome to Tokyo. But that had just slipped right out. Will Riggins had all kinds of strange effects on me.
Will raised his eyebrows. His mouth twitched in a smile. I almost started to be embarrassed. But Will’s expression filled with a deepening warmth. He wasn’t laughing at me. He was quite pleased with my flirtatious comment. His eyes made me want to inch closer. Without thinking, I did.
He lifted his hand to my cheek. It was warm from holding the hot coffee cup. He said softly, “Well now, Miss Battle. Don’t be too disappointed. My official business won’t take long.”
“And then what?”
Will’s dimples deepened. He brought his lips to mine. His kisses were sweet and soft. My whole body relaxed. I almost dropped my coffee. Some of the ice cold liquid dripped over my hand. I didn’t care. I kept kissing Will.
A siren blipped. I jolted, and the coffee went flying. Whipped cream and precious, caramelly slush shot out in an arc. My hand had instinctively squeezed the plastic cup as it slipped out of my hand at the sound of the siren, forcing the dome lid off. Then the whole thing slid out of my hand. Will swore and jostled his coffee, but managed to only spill a little bit on the floor.
I stared at the sad, sad, mess I’d made, then out the window. The police car disappeared, leaving a wake of loud laughter behind. “What the…? Who was that?”
“Pfeiffer. I’m gonna kill him.”
My face burned with embarrassment and outrage. I have to say, I would’ve paid good money to see Will beat the stuffing out of Officer Tony Pfeiffer. But…“Oh, no. He’s all mine.” It would be much more satisfying to do it myself. Skinny Officer Pfeiffer had enjoyed entirely too many laughs at my expense. The very first time I’d seen him, I’d humiliated myself. And found out my sister was being questioned for murder. Pfeiffer was not my favorite cop, and not just because Will Riggins had that spot locked up.
“I’m sorry, Brenna.”
“No, it’s not your fault. I can’t believe I dropped that. I just wasn’t expecting…I guess I was a little distracted.”
Will suppressed a smile. “Sorry about that,” he said again.
I looked away. I didn’t know what was worse—the untimely destruction of a beautiful caramel frappuccino thingy or the fact that Tony had seen me kissing Will like that. Kissing Will like I never wanted to do anything else. And then, of course, he’d been richly rewarded by watching me spurt coffee all over the dojo floor.
“I’ll get you another coffee when we’re done here.”
I nodded, but I was too mad to speak. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and a container of wipes from a nearby shelf. We kept them handy for nosebleeds and other mishaps. Will set his coffee on the desk and knelt next to me to clean up the mess. When the last sticky streaks had been wiped, he reached over the pile of used paper towels and wipes between us and covered my hand with his. He pulled me closer. And then the door to the stairwell opened. I pulled back like I’d just put my hand on Blythe’s hot curling iron.
“Did you mop already?” Blythe said. Her hair was blown dry and pulled back in a perky pony tail. “Oh, hi, Will.” I could tell she wanted to smirk, but she was too polite for that. She liked to think she’d played matchmaker with Will and me. She was very proud of her budding success.
“Hi, Blythe,” Will said. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we should sit down…so we can concentrate on business,” he said to me.
I nodded and scooped up the dirty towels and wipes. I told Blythe, “No, I didn’t spray yet either. I, uh, spilled some coffee. We were cleaning it up. Will needs to talk to me about that picture Glenda took.”
“Okay, you guys talk. I’ll spray.”
“Thanks.” I threw away the garbage and headed for my desk.
Instead of sitting in the chair placed across from my desk for parents, Will helped himself to Blythe’s desk chair. Hers was right beside mine. He swiveled toward me. “Okay. What do you remember about the picture?”
“A big blur. Definitely human, but a total blur.”
“How big was the blur?”
“I can’t really say. I couldn’t make out the ladder or anything else to give me a size reference.”
“Okay, what was the person wearing?”
“It looked like a red hat and a black shirt and dark pants. I got the impression the person wasn’t very dark, but not very pale either, but that could be wrong.” Great. That was helpful for sure.
“Male? Female?”
I thought carefully, trying to focus on my own memories, to forget anything I’d heard at the store. “I thought male, but I couldn’t really say why. You know, there was another color. Bright green.”
Will nodded. “Glenda described a person wearing a lime green apron and a bright red baseball cap.”
“A Cherry Bowl employee?”
“It fits the description.”
So, the employees were right. The police suspected one of them. How could it be one of them? How awful. How could one of them have shut me in the freezer last night, either? I shuddered. I knew many of the employees. Blythe and I talked to them all the time while we were shopping. Sure, we were really busy with the business, but even though I was an introvert, I started to feel a little starved for adult conversation sometimes. Besides, we were trying hard to be friendly and get to know our neighbors in Bonney Bay.
“Brenna?” Are you okay? his look said. “Creepy, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.” Not to mention really, really horrible sitting here looking right at this guy I adored, this guy who I knew would want to know, and not telling him one of those employees had tried to turn me into an ice cube last night. Maybe just to scare me…or maybe they’d left me for dead. He wouldn’t believe me anyway, I told myself. Roberta hadn’t. But I wasn’t so sure. Will believed in me more than was sensible. Like Blythe.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Brenna, I can’t tell you—”
“It’s not about the investigation. It’s not about Millie. It’s about Sammi.”
“What about Sammi?”
“Just keep an eye out for her. And let me know if you see her just…hanging around. By herself or with the wrong people.”
“Sammi hates me, remember?”
I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s all an act.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, she hated me, and she got over it. But anyway, she doesn’t have to like you. Just, send me a text and tell me if you see her around, up to no good. Especially at night.”
Will frowned. “Sure. What’s this about?”
I told him about Sammi and Tyler, the smoke blower.
“I know who that kid is.” Will’s expression darkened. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him, too.”
12
“It’s your turn to make dinner,” Blythe said. “I think we have some pasta in the cupboard.”
“Okay. Just give me a minute.”
The camp kids were gone, and our evening classes didn’t start for another two hours. I put my bare feet up on my desk and sat back. My quick-dry shorts and rash guard were still damp with sweat. “Do we have any more of that spicy marinara?”
A shiny new Volkswagen rolled by the dojo slowly, then turned to enter the parking lot behind the dojo. I sat up straight and exchanged glances with Blythe. New customers?
A moment later, a lady with a stroller approached the door. I hurried to hold it open for her. “Hi, there. Welcome to Bonney Bay Battlers!”
Her dark hair was close-cropped and spiky. She pushed a very big baby in a six-hundred-dollar jogging stroller. How do I know how much that stroller cost? One of my best friends in Arizona had been a high-end nanny. She loved venting to me because I got so fired up on her behalf—and on behalf of decent, normal people in general. I think it was very cathartic for her, watching me blow my top as she shared the latest outrages of the nannying world. What can I say? I performed a valuable service. And got paid dessert for doing it, too. Lisa had always treated me, the starving Olympian.
A closer look at that big baby made me wonder whether he was a baby, or just babied. He chewed on a pacifier with a full set of teeth, like a guy in a nineteen-fifties TV show chewing on a cigar out of the side of his mouth. His little fingers navigated a very noisy game on an iPad with amazing dexterity. “Mommy! I need more coins!” he burst out.
“Just a minute, sweetie.”
Sweetie? Please, dear God, for the love of all that’s good in the world, don’t let this kid be four years old and about to join my judo camp.
“Hi. I’m Jessie Pakowski.” She held out her hand. “I’d like to sign my two boys up for your judo camp, if it’s not too late.”
I shook Jessie’s hand, then Blythe did the same. The little boy in the stroller screamed until his mother did what he wanted on the iPad.
I looked behind the stroller, but didn’t see a little kid hiding there. There was another one? And the kid in the stroller? I was just brainstorming ways to dispose of that binky when Jessie looked up and said, “Oh, here they come!”
One boy slammed his european shoe into the glass doors in a karate kick, and the other threw straight punches at the air. The wicked part of me hoped his fist would make contact with something very painful, like maybe the wall. He sported a moppy headful of light brown hair.
“Hello, boys.” Blythe’s smile was genuine.
Mine was a little, shall we say, coerced by the business-minded side of myself. My gut instinct was to tell this lady that our program probably wouldn’t be a good fit for her kids, and send them on their way.
“This is Holden,” Jessie said.
I tried to shake Holden’s hand, but he was too busy throwing punches.
“He’s seven. And Allen here is nine.”
Allen wore his light brown hair in a long ponytail. He glowered at his brother and tried to trip him.
Thank God, not the kid in the stroller. I had no problem with rambunctious kids. Or even kids, like Holden, who seemed just a little bit more out of touch with reality than most kids his age. Give me a mom struggling to discipline her kids any day. But kids raised without even that concept, as these boys appeared to be? I wasn’t so sure how I was supposed to deal with that.
Their clothes had that intentionally faded and rumpled look—not the kind that came naturally to boys’ clothes that had been shoved haphazardly in drawers or sat in the dryer too long before folding, that had faded over lots of wear and handing down. Nope, these were a miniature version of the clothes some adults who are into the whole natural, outdoorsy look pay big money for. The kind that are already like that when you buy them and that match the spectrum of colors that are trendy for that niche in the current season.
“We have a class starting at six,” Blythe said. Do you think you could swing by and watch a bit before you sign up? Just so you and the boys can see what they’ll be doing all day, and make sure it’s what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, they want martial arts. They’re sure. And connecting with their chi will be good for them.”
I grappled with how to politely explain to this lady that I’d never met my chi, let alone gotten in touch with it, and somehow I’d made it into the top five in the world. I lost that battle for words, but thank goodness, Blythe was there.
“Well,” she said, “we’re really more focused on the sports aspect of judo. We like to leave any spiritual instruction to the parents. It’s such a personal thing, you know?”
I wondered what this lady would think if she knew that international judo was run by Russians right now. I was pretty sure the top dogs didn’t spend their spare time meditating.
“Hi-yah!” Holden came at me.
I gently put my hand on the boy’s back, to turn him around, away from me. He whirled around, back toward me, with a wild flurry of kicks. I sidestepped out of danger, and he fell right on his face.
“Hey!” He looked at me like I’d just snatched a lollipop right out of his hand.
Yeah, right, kid. Hey, why didn’t you just stand there and let me kick you? That’s what he was thinking.
I turned to the mother with my best effort at a calm, friendly tone, given the fact that I had to keep watching out of the corner of my eye for an ambush. “It looks like the boys are really into striking. That looks like fun, but there really isn’t any kicking and punching in judo.”
“No?”
“No. Throwing and grappling only.” I shook my head sadly. Darn. What a shame you’ll have to take the boys somewhere else, I tried to convey.
“I wanna learn to throw people down!” Allen said.
“And then kick and punch ’em!” Holden chimed in.
“Yeah!”
“Oh, well, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Jessie said.
Okay, maybe it was time to get just a little more blunt. “We take safety very seriously. We can’t have the boys punching or kicking us or the other students.”
Blythe added, “Like one body, working in harmony.”
“Oh, okay.” Jessie nodded earnestly, as though now everything made sense. “Well, the boys and I will dialogue about that. We wouldn’t want to disrupt the balance of harmony. So, you can take them, right?”
It was just a tad scary how good Blythe was at speaking Jessie’s language. Before I could tell her she’d have to wait until the next session—at least that would give us a couple weeks before we had to deal with this, and maybe they’d even find something else to do instead— Blythe said, “Oh, that’s okay. They can join now.”
What!
“Oh, good. I’m sorry we missed the beginning of the session. I didn’t know I’d be needing to find activities for them at the last minute. Our nanny left unexpectedly to go to school in Colorado.”
That poor girl really earned her education. The Pakowskis’ clothes and their behavior made me wish I could hide my advertised prices and charge them double. “Unfortunately, we won’t b
e able to offer a discount. We’ll have to charge for the days they missed.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem.”
“Great!” I could tell Blythe caught the trace of sarcasm I’d tried and failed to filter out, but Jessie seemed clueless.
It was an ordeal getting the paperwork filled out, let me tell you. When they were finally gone and Blythe and I hunched over bowls of bow-tie pasta in our apartment, we had only half an hour left of our precious break.
I took a pinch of shredded parmesan and sprinkled it over my steaming pasta. “Why did you say yes? Why?”
“It’ll be good for them, Brenna. You know it will.”
“Only if the mom’s on board.”
“We’ll get her on board. Those kids need this just as much as kids like Sammi and Katie.”
But they would be so much more annoying than Sammi and Katie. I’d bet dessert on it.
13
I was already half awake when my alarm went off the next morning. The window was wide open, and I’d been in a sort of semi-conscious state for a couple of hours because of the birds squawking outside my window. Okay, some of them actually sang, and I guess you could say it was kind of pretty, but “Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony” might as well be squawking at five a.m., you know?
Blythe’s bed was empty, and I could hear the shower running. I plumped the pillow up against the wall behind me and sat up halfway, trying to acclimate myself to the Land of the Living. My twin bed was brand new, but it was just a basic mattress and box springs, with no frame. Blythe’s mattress and box springs was new too, but she had one of those old-school eighties metal frames. She’d found it at a garage sale and painted it purple.
Grabbed my phone from the nightstand and I turned off my alarm and checked my text messages. I had one from Lourdes. Odd, for her to message me this early.
“Can you meet me in the park for lunch? I know it’s hard for you to leave the kids, but it’s important.”
It must be trouble with her boyfriend, Brent. He was thinking about leaving Bonney Bay, and Lourdes didn’t want to go. They were in that awkward stage in their relationship where it was getting fairly serious, but serious enough to make a move together? Serious enough to withstand a long-distance relationship until it got more serious? That was the big question. Lourdes had been over at our apartment last week talking about it for hours with Blythe. I’d chipped in with a thought here and there, but Blythe was much better at that kind of thing than me. Lourdes must’ve gotten our numbers mixed up in her phone.
