Just Another Maniac Monday
Page 16
“And what happened to Zoey?”
“She grew up. And did the opposite of her mother. She went to college. Got a degree in accounting and became a CPA. She moved to Denver and got an apartment right in the middle of the city. I think she lives above a Starbucks, which drives her mother nuts. She works at Cavelli Commerce, which is some fancy firm downtown run by a couple of Italian brothers. Or she did until a few weeks ago when this whole shenanigan-thing with the money laundering happened.”
“Hey, Edna,” Sunny said. She stood at the sink looking out the kitchen window. “There’s some man in your backyard. I just saw him slip into the shadows by that big lilac tree. Jake’s porch light is on, and he just crossed under the light as he slipped into your yard.”
John pushed back his chair and moved to the window. “Where? Show me.”
The other Page Turners crowded the sink behind them to see out the kitchen window. Edna walked to the kitchen door and flung it open. “Hey, who’s out there? I’ve got a gun, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“Edna, close the door,” Maggie said, moving toward her. “It could be the guy who threw the rock.”
“Good, I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to him, starting with he owes me two hundred dollars to replace my window.” Edna shouted the last bit into the yard.
Maggie, being quite a bit taller than Edna, reached above her head to close the door. Before she could, a small man wearing a trench coat and a fedora hat slipped out of the dark and into the kitchen.
Havoc raced around the man’s feet, barking and nipping at his heels.
Edna pulled out the nearest kitchen drawer, scrambling for a can of Mace. She grabbed a black vial and held it out in front of her. “Stop right there or I’ll shoot. And I guarantee this will burn like a mother.”
“Chill out, Grandma. It’s me.” The “man” pulled off his fedora and a spill of blonde hair fell across her shoulders. She tossed the hat onto the kitchen counter, reached down to scoop up the little dog, and cuddled it in her arms. Havoc wiggled with doggy joy, licking her face like they were old friends.
“Lord have mercy,” Edna said, clutching her chest. “Zoey, you about gave me a heart attack. What in the hell are you doing here, and why in heaven’s name are you dressed like that?”
Zoey held the dog in one arm and shrugged out of the trench coat. Underneath she wore a simple outfit of black yoga pants, a turquoise t-shirt, and cross trainers. “I’m in disguise.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “That old-man disguise seems to be all the rage these days.”
Edna opened her arms and her granddaughter stepped into them, hugging her tightly. Zoey was of average height, standing close to five foot seven, but she seemed tall compared to her tiny grandmother.
“Why do you need a disguise?” Edna asked.
“The press is hounding me like crazy. They’ve camped out in front of my apartment building and reporters are stationed at every exit. I can’t step outside without fifty microphones stuck in my face and camera flashes blinding me.”
Zoey looked around the kitchen and nodded at the Page Turners. “Looks like I interrupted book club. Hi, gals.”
Maggie waved, and Sunny stepped forward and drew Zoey into a hug. “Hey, Zoey, good to see you. Even if you did scare the crap out of us.”
“Hi, honey. You poor thing.” Cassie grabbed a hug next then pointed to her niece. “This is my niece, Piper. She’s been living with me since this spring and she’s the newest member of the Page Turners.”
Piper lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey, nice to meet you.”
Zoey smiled at Piper then held her hand out to John. “Hi, I’m Zoey Allen, Edna’s granddaughter.”
Edna watched John’s face as he stood before his granddaughter for the first time. His expression was a cross between pride and tenderness. “This is John, he’s—”
“An old friend of the family.” John finished her sentence, taking Zoey’s hand in both of his. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Well, I don’t know how much of an honor it is, but it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Did you know my Grandpa Frank, then?”
John nodded. “I did. We grew up together. He was my best friend. I loved your grandfather very much.”
“So did I,” Edna said, not quite under her breath. She drew a quick glance from John and knew he was wondering if she meant the grandfather Zoey grew up with or the man standing in front of her now.
“So, who is this little guy?” Zoey asked, still holding the dog, who now lay contently in her arms.
“That’s Havoc,” Edna said. “He’s John’s dog. They’ve been staying with me the past few days. And watch out, he lives up to his name.”
“He’s really taken with you. Havoc’s usually a little more wary of strangers,” John said. “Unless they have food.”
The doorbell rang and the book club members froze. Cassie hurried to the front room and peeked out the window. “It’s the police.”
Edna opened the door to the basement and waved John over. “Quick, get in here. We’ll get rid of them then give you the signal when it’s safe to come out.”
John hurried down the basement stairs, and Edna closed the door behind him. A hard rap knocked on the front door. “Hold your horses,” she hollered.
She opened the front door to see Officer McCarthy standing on the stoop. And he did not look happy. “Hiya, Mac. What’s going on? Isn’t this a little late for a social visit?”
Mac narrowed his eyes and peered into the room behind Edna. “This is not a social visit. We got a call down at the station from one of your neighbors. They claim they saw a suspicious elderly man sneaking around your back yard and coming in your back door.”
“What? One of my neighbors was spying on me? And called the police?” Edna said. “It was probably that ornery old Mr. Ferguson. Nosy old cuss.”
“It doesn’t matter who called it in,” Mac said. “Did you have an elderly man sneak through your yard and into your kitchen tonight?”
“That was me.” Zoey and the other Page Turners stepped out of the kitchen. Havoc followed close on her heels then sat and looked adoringly up at her.
Edna moved back so Mac could enter the room. “Mac, this is my granddaughter, Zoey Allen.”
Mac arched an eyebrow at Zoey. “And may I ask why you were dressed as an elderly man and sneaking around your grandmother’s backyard?”
“She was in disguise,” Maggie said.
Piper held the trench coat and fedora. “See, these are her clothes.”
“She’s hiding out from the press,” Cassie said.
“She’s that Zoey Allen,” Sunny explained. “The one that’s been on the news.”
Mac looked Zoey up and down, his expression thoughtful, as if he were recalling the news story in his head. “I read about that. You’re the auditor that uncovered the money laundering scheme and is testifying against the CEO of the company? Some Italian company, isn’t it? Savelli or Cavelli?”
She nodded. “That’s me. It’s Cavelli Commerce.”
“That’s right. So is it true? That you’re here because you’re hiding out from the press?”
“That, and a few other things. I’ve been getting some threatening messages about the upcoming trial. Apparently I didn’t make any friends by exposing them.”
“What are you talking about?” Edna rushed to her granddaughter’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You didn’t say anything about any threatening messages.”
“I haven’t really had time. There was one on my cell phone this afternoon, and I tried to just blow it off. Then when I got home tonight, the press was terrible. I barely made it into my apartment building without getting crushed. I had another threatening message on my answering machine, and I kind of freaked out. I knew I needed to get out of there. I threw a few things in a bag and snuck out the back alley in the old-man clothes. This was the safest place I could think of, so I hopped in the car and drove down here.”
“Did you save the messages?” Mac asked, all business. “Can I listen to them?”
“Sure. I have the one on my cell phone with me.” She reached down the front of her shirt and pulled her cell phone from her bra. “I think I can remotely get the message off my answering machine at home. If I can remember the pass code.”
Maggie watched Mac’s eyes widen when Zoey unintentionally flashed him a little cleavage as she dislodged her phone. She shook her head. “She’s just like her grandmother. Do all the Allen women consider their bras as a second purse?”
Zoey laughed. “I usually have a pocket. But I did learn that trick from my grandma.” She touched a few spots on the phone. “Here, I’ll put the message on speaker.”
The group crowded closer as a gravelly voice spoke from the phone. “Listen closely, because I’m only gonna say this once. Whatever you think you know about Cavelli Commerce, I’d suggest you forget it. I wouldn’t want to see a pretty little thing like you get hurt over a few false accusations.”
Cassie shivered. “Creepy.”
“Why aren’t you freaking out? Hiding under the bed with a gun?” Sunny asked.
“I am freaking out a little. I dressed up like an old man and ran to hide at my grandma’s house.” Zoey forced a laugh. “But hey, on the plus side, he did say that I was pretty.”
Mac pulled a business card from his pocket and passed it to Zoey. “Here’s my card. I’d like you to come down to the station tomorrow, and we can get a recording of that message and the other one. We’ll see if we can’t get some more information on who made the calls.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right here? Would you like me to stay for awhile? Take a look around?” Mac peered into the kitchen.
“That won’t be necessary.” Edna gripped his elbow and steered him back to the front door. “We’ve got everything under control here. I won’t let anything happen to my granddaughter. I’ve got a license to carry, ya know.”
“Somehow that information does not make me feel any better.” Mac opened the front door. “I’ll send a patrol car through the neighborhood a couple of times tonight just to be on the safe side, and you can call me if you see anything suspicious or that makes you feel uncomfortable.” He looked down at Edna. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from our friend, John, have you?”
Edna shook her head. “Nope. Not a peep.”
“And you’d let me know if you did, of course?”
She bobbed her head up and down. “Oh, of course. You betcha.” She pushed the door shut behind him, speaking her last sentence through the crack in the door. “The minute I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
Zoey waved a hand in front of her face, fanning herself. “Holy hot-man-in-uniform. If all the cops in this town look like him, I’m getting myself arrested tomorrow.”
Cassie grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “And he has a motorcycle.”
“Oh my.”
“Enough about Officer Hottie,” Edna said, striding toward the kitchen. “Somebody needs to let John out of the basement. I’m going to go get my gun.”
“How about I call Jake, instead?” Sunny said, already reaching for her phone.
Zoey raised her hand as if asking a question in class. “I’ll let John out of the basement, then somebody needs to tell me what’s going on with him. Something tells me he’s more than just an old friend of the family.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Edna woke with the sun. She liked to get up early and putter around the house before her day started. Enjoying a cup of coffee on her back deck while watching the birds, and sometimes her other neighbors, was one of her favorite morning activities. The air was getting cooler in the morning, and she knew fall was on its way, whether she was ready to see the summer end or not.
This morning, before heading straight to the kitchen, she had popped into her bathroom. Taking a few extra minutes, she washed her face, freshened up her hair and swiped a touch of mascara across her light eyelashes.
It wasn’t every day that she woke up to a handsome man in her house, and her stomach fluttered a little in anticipation of seeing him. Either that, or it was indigestion from too much dessert last night.
She debated a dab of lipstick but decided against it. Don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.
She did wrap herself in the flowing pink satin robe that matched her pajamas. She had a drawer full of nice matching pajama sets—evidently that was the gift of choice for elderly women. Everybody wants you to look nice when they stick you away in a home.
She walked into the kitchen thinking about what ingredients she had on hand to whip up some breakfast, and was surprised to see John standing at the stove, cracking an egg into a bowl.
He was clean-shaven and wore khaki pants and a green golf shirt. Tied around his front was one of her frilly kitchen aprons, and Edna laughed out loud at the sight of him in pink polka dots and ruffles. “Nice apron. Who are you supposed to be? Betty Crocker?”
“I prefer Bernie Crocker, Betty’s lesser-known male counterpart.” John bowed and fluffed the apron. “I’m not too skilled in the kitchen, but I can make a mean omelet and thought breakfast was the least I could do to pay you back for the trouble I’ve caused, making you hide out a fugitive and all.”
“You didn’t make me do anything. And you don’t owe me.” Edna took a coffee cup from the cupboard. “But I do like omelets, and I appreciate the gesture.”
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “And you look kinda sexy in that apron and wielding a spatula.”
A huge grin broke across John’s face. “Really?”
“Absolutely. It really lends credence to your bad boy status.”
“Ha. I haven’t been considered a bad boy in forty years.”
“Well, you’re the first fugitive I’ve had cook me breakfast, and I don’t have very many ‘first’ experiences anymore, so there’s a lot of pressure riding on the tastiness of this omelet.” She loved flirting with him. Loved watching his face light with surprise then turn to a naughty grin.
“What happens if I mess up the eggs—will you call in the cops or just handcuff me?”
“Oh my. You are a little rascal.” Edna swatted at him with a dishtowel, but still felt a little heat warm her cheeks. “Is it getting hot in here or is that just the stove? I might have to open a window.”
John laughed.
She had missed the sound of that laugh. She’d missed him. His easy manner and how comfortable she felt around him. It had been over half her lifetime since she’d seen him, but it felt like yesterday that they were together, teasing each other just like today.
“Am I interrupting?” Zoey stood in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a pair of Edna’s pajamas with her blonde hair crushed against one side of her head. In her haste, she had forgotten to pack anything to wear to bed. Digging through her pajama drawer, Edna had found a lavender set with cotton capri pants and a soft t-shirt that still had the tags hanging from the sleeve.
With her sleepy eyes and the pastel-colored pajamas, she looked to Edna just like the little girl who used to spend her summer mornings in this very kitchen, a cereal box propped up in front of her at the table. “Heavens no. Come on in. John is making us breakfast.”
Edna poured Zoey a cup of coffee, and they sat at the kitchen island, watching John cook the eggs. He plated the omelets and joined them, all the while keeping up a lighthearted conversation. They laughed and talked as they went through a second pot of coffee. Havoc languished in Zoey’s lap as she patted his belly and fed him the crust off her toast.
“Oh goodness,” Edna said, glancing at the wall clock. “The morning’s half over, and I’m still in my pajamas and haven’t even got the paper yet. This hiding-out thing is kind of fun.”
She opened the front door and was surprised to see the paper on the front stoop of the
porch instead of out in the driveway. The days of paperboys riding by on their bicycles and tossing the paper on your porch were gone, replaced by delivery people who drove by with the window down and pitched your paper onto your driveway or yard.
A white sheet of paper was wrapped around the paper, secured with the rubber band. She brought it in and set the newspaper on the table as she unfolded the page.
“So much for hiding out,” she said, dropping the white paper on the table. In large block print, someone had scrawled, “I KNOW YOU ARE HERE.”
Zoey gasped. “How did they find me?”
“You?” John asked. “I’m sure this note is meant for me.” They had given Zoey an abbreviated version of why John was hiding out at Edna’s. Basically telling her that he had been wrongly accused of a crime he didn’t commit.
“But how could anyone know either of us were here?” Zoey asked.
“Where did you leave your car?” John moved to the front window and peered out through the break in the curtains.
“I parked it a few houses down.” She joined him at the window and pointed to a blue sedan parked on the street in front of Sunny’s house. “That’s my car, the blue Ford Taurus. It’s not much to look at, but it was affordable, is fairly cheap on gas, and it runs.”
John shook his head in disbelief. “I’m driving the exact same car.” He smiled down at Zoey. “And for the same reasons. But my car is in the parking lot of that little grocery store three or four blocks from here.”
“Then whoever left the note could have easily mistaken my car for yours,” Zoey said.
“Or vice versa. That doesn’t help us determine who that note was meant for.”
“Well, whoever it’s meant for, nobody touch it.” Edna reached into a kitchen drawer and withdrew a Ziploc bag. “We’ll stick it in here and see if the police can get any prints off it.”