The Counterfeit Father: A Tony Pandy Mystery (Book 1)
Page 6
#$%#!
“Yeah, Bony, you tell him.”
“Besides I don’t have any grapes,” Tony said, as he popped a red juicy one in his mouth.
“Tony Pandy, you give that gosh-darned monkey a treat—”
“Or what?”
Hawes plucked a grape from out of Tony’s hand. “I’ll shove this right up your nose.”
(As if.)
The doorbell rang out the theme from GRASSHOPPERS HATE ANTS!
Tony turned to the surveillance monitors on the wall.
All blank.
He could have sworn they were on a minute ago. Power outage? He rolled over to his computer, but Hawes stepped in the way.
“Let’s keep it a mystery, shall we?”
Hawes clicked a button on the home automation controller. Only in Pandyland could there be a remote for unlocking the front door.
“What are you up to, Hawes?”
“I invited a guest.”
Tony motored himself backwards. “I don’t like surprises.”
“Your call. I could send this whoever away. If you want.”
“Why are you being so weird about it?”
“To prove a point. I think that someone who is curious about who is at the door isn’t quite ready to die yet. Amirite?”
“Because I’m curious?” Tony asked.
“Uh huh.”
There were footfalls on the stairs just yards from his room.
“Without conceding your point, can you at least give me a hint?”
“Pretty hair. Auburn, I believe.”
(Juniper!)
“Stop it. You didn’t.”
Hawes leaned against the closed bedroom door. “No, I won’t—and yes, I did.”
“How did you find her? Did you hack my computer?”
“Wouldn’t be hard,” Hawes teased. “I’m sure your password is TONYISTHEGREATEST. But no.”
Tony made a mental note to change his password from TONYISNUMBERONE.
Hawes picked up the portable phone from the desk. “You called her from here, remember? I just scrolled down to her—”
There was a knock at the door.
Hawes wore his smug face. “What’s it going to be, Tony? Have her come in or send her away?”
“Did you tell her about…” indicating his wheelchair.
“Yes. And she still came.”
Tony wiggled his joystick. “Curiosity proves nothing, you know.”
“Perhaps not. But forming relationships does. It’s like investing in the future. And, surprise-surprise, people who believe in a future have one.”
Tony fluffed up his mohawk. “Okay, let her in.”
Hawes opened the door.
“HB!” Juniper said, shaking with excitement.
(Happy Birthday?)
The only difference between the girl in front of him and her profile picture was a dyed green streak in her hair—which kept falling across her face. That, and she was much shorter than Tony had imagined.
Juni held out a boxed cake which had frosting in the shape of a—
“Spaceship?” Tony asked.
(What am I, six?)
Hawes answered. “You’re the one with Saturn on his wall. I thought you’d like a science fiction theme.”
“Science, yes. Not—”
With a sweep of his hand, Hawes both shut up Tony’s protest and ushered Juniper into the room. She put the cake on the sideboard table.
(Look at him.)
Hawes kissing Juniper on the cheek. Putting Bony on his shoulder.
Like it’s his monkey.
(So annoying.)
Hawes produced a cake-cutting knife and began slicing away. “Nice rocket ship,” he told Juni.
“IKR,” she answered.
“Come again?”
“‘I know, right?’” Tony answered for her. “Juniper believes life’s too short for long words.”
“Is that a fact?” Hawes said. “Or should I say, ITAF?”
Juni laughed. “LOL.”
“Would you believe,” Hawes said, thoughtfully, “I’ve never heard that said out loud before?”
He deposited a slice of cake onto a plate before handing it to her.
BA DINK!
“Happy Birthday, honey!” his mother said across the intercom.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Juni looked all sorts of confused. “WTF?”
Hawes whispered, “I know, I know. Just go with it.” He handed Tony some cake.
Not having two fully functional hands meant that Tony couldn’t hold the paper plate and use a fork at the same time. Using his lap as a table was awkward; taking out the wheelchair’s folding tray was drawing attention to how different he was.
Not that Hawes intended to put a spotlight on his infirmity… But still. Tony motored over to the sideboard and set his plate down beside the open box of cake and pouted.
Hawes had his own piece halfway to his mouth when Tony said, “That’ll be all, employee.”
Hawes exchanged a look with Juni. Placed the cake down, unbitten into. “I forgot myself again, didn’t I?”
Juniper scowled.
(Uh-oh.)
“J/K!” Tony insisted. (Just Kidding.)
Hawes threw a thumb at the bedroom doorway and awkwardly backed away. “I got things to do anyway.”
Juni stamped her foot.
“You heard him,” Tony said to her. “Things to do.”
That’s when she reached out and dumped his face in the cake. Somewhere between the warp nacelle and the saucer section.
There Tony was, with cake falling off his face. Frosting in his eyebrows.
Juni laughed first, and then Hawes saddled up his horse laugh and rode it for all it was worth.
Tony couldn’t help himself and joined in.
Juniper put her hands on her hips. “Just because you’re dying doesn’t mean anybody has to take your crap, Tony Pandy.”
More than being pushed into the cake, this stunned Tony. “Juni, you spoke words.”
“Some thoughts are worth the time. IMO.”
Hawes came back and picked up his cake. “I like this one, Tony. She’s a keeper.”
EPILOGUE
A brown delivery truck pulled into the circular driveway of Tony’s house. No logo, no wording on the side. The uniformed driver carried an oversized, padded envelope up the stairs to the porch. The brass mail slot in the front door was too narrow for the flat package, so the delivery man folded it over.
Something popped from within.
He shoved the large envelope the rest of the way through the mail slot and heard it land on the floor inside.
CRACK.
Tu Ngu was entering from the other side of the house and, as he rounded the stairs, he saw the package lying there. A dark stain was spreading along the surface of the manila envelope.
Tu couldn’t resist taking a peek. It was addressed to Tony.
But he was puzzled. What did ASSIGNMENT TWO refer to?
He didn’t wonder for long. He carried the bulky envelope up the stairs to Tony’s bedroom.
He had heard there was going to be cake.
About the Author
PV Lundqvist is a writer who loves mysteries and, in a former life, helped the disabled find meaningful work.
He blogs at pvlundqvist.blogspot.com and tweets at @pvlundqvist about his books and about embarrassing his children.
Mostly about embarrassing his children.
If you’ve enjoyed this book, please don’t leave a review. Just don’t. That would only encourage the author to finish Gang of Sleuths: a Tony Pandy Mystery instead of mowing the lawn. Now waist high.
You wouldn’t want that on your conscience.
Other Books by PV
Not Just For Breakfast Anymore
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