"Zee?"
"Let's just drop it."
But I couldn't drop it. Because the thing about me is, if I can't figure something out, I have to keep at it until I do.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Needing something to take my mind off Beidemeyer and my spat with Zelda, I decided to do all the week's baking that afternoon and evening. Zelda announced she had plans, which was fine with me because I wanted to be alone. While I was in the kitchen beating eggs and chopping fruit, she left without a goodbye. It hurt my feelings, but a little space was what both of us needed.
I find joy in cooking with total focus — it puts me in a zone where everything flows one thing to the next without effort. I was amazed at how quickly and efficiently I achieved my goal without anyone's help. Unless you count Boomer who provided some comic relief with his twirly dancing. I didn't have to bribe anyone with food, or instruct anyone on how to roll a crust properly for the thousandth time. No spills, no trips, no stumbles, just perfect execution.
It wasn't that I didn't appreciate Zelda's help because I did very much. But to her, the baking is a chore. To me, it's pure creation. The only thing I love more than cooking is Ted. Even still, it's very neck in neck.
Finished by mid-evening, I walked through my house marveling at the silence. I so rarely had time alone that it felt kind of magical. I stood at the patio slider with a glass of iced tea and looked out at my decimated vegetable garden. The heat wave had murdered most of my crop, leaving only a couple of desperate tomato plants still clinging to life. Even the old sycamores and birches on the property swooned under the relentless broil.
I slid open the door and a cool breeze caressed my face. "Praise God," I said to no one. I stepped out to the patio and plopped onto the chaise lounge. Boomer wagged his stub and settled at my feet, sniffing the cool air. "So, this is privacy, huh?"
I lay my head back and looked up at the star-filled sky. In L.A. you don't see stars like that because of all the lights and urban sprawl. But in the foothills we have lots of open space, trees and critters. And stars. So many stars.
The break in the weather begged for a celebration, so Boomer and I went for a drive up Angeles Crest Highway. The road wound like a ribbon around the granite rising up from the earth, taking us higher into the mountains. After a while I pulled into a turnout and parked. I buzzed down the windows, opened the moonroof and stared at the sky. Boomer stood on his hind legs at the window, sniffing the air and cocking his ear for the rustle of mysterious night creatures.
I put everything out of my mind and let the night sky pull me into the ether until I felt free. And floated there until my phone buzzed with a call from Ted. I came back to Earth and answered the call, "Hi honey."
In his sexy, growly voice he said, "What are you wearing?"
"A smile."
"I’d like to see that smile."
"Sorry, I'm otherwise engaged."
He groaned.
"Good night, honey. See you tomorrow."
"But I miss you."
"Sometimes missing people is good. You appreciate them more when you see them again."
"I haven't seen you for three days."
"So a few more hours won't make that much difference then."
"Where are you? What are you doing?"
"Just looking at the stars. Good night, honey. I love you."
I ended the call because I didn't want to spend another hour combating Ted’s persuasion tactics. I hadn't seen him since his meltdown about the war, and I didn't have the energy for another round. Though I understood why he didn't want to talk about his experiences, I was still worried he might lose it one day — and with the wrong person. And I wanted one night where I didn't have to worry about anything.
I stared at the stars until my bones felt like noodles and was certain I could go home and sleep. Then I pulled out and headed down the mountain toward home. But when we reached the bottom, something tugged me in the other direction.
I turned onto Foothill and headed for Crescenta Valley Park. Unlike Sunland Park, the homeless rarely gathered there. It was nicer and much bigger but also more isolated. The large and sprawling grounds were populated with dozens of trees, a dog park, and hiking trails that rose into the hills behind it. But it was in a more upscale neighborhood, surrounded by private homes and so had a larger police presence. And, more of a challenge for the homeless to use as a refuge.
My eyes shifted between the road and the sidewalk — watching for dark figures rolling carts or carrying backpacks. I saw movement on the sidewalk to my right, and eased my foot off the gas. I couldn't get a good look at the unknown traveler so pulled up alongside him. "Mike is that you?"
The traveler turned and gave me a quizzical look. Not Mike. Not a man but a woman down on her luck and definitely homeless. "I don't know Mike," she yelled and waved her arms.
"Okay, sorry." I sped up and left her muttering to herself.
Disappointed, I turned toward home feeling lonely and not at all magical anymore. I glanced at my little dog. "How about a movie Booms?"
We stopped at a grocery store that had a movie rental kiosk. Quickly, I picked two new releases, paid with my credit card and dashed out.
As I came out of the store, a gravelly voice said, "Hey lady."
A stranger's voice in a deserted parking lot at night was not a good combination. I didn't stop, or pause, and kept walking.
"Hey pie lady? Ma'am?"
I turned around and saw a figure, shadowed under the store's portico. "Mike?"
He stepped into the light. "Yes, ma'am."
I sighed and waved Mike over. "You need a ride somewhere?"
He hoisted his backpack over a shoulder and shuffled toward me. "Yes, ma'am."
Chapter Twenty-Six
I idled at the exit waiting for Mike to give me a location. Finally, I said, "Where are you headed?"
Boomer stood in Mike's lap, with his head out the window. "Thrift store. Please, ma'am."
I nodded and turned left. "You don't have to be so formal, you can call me Scotti."
"Yes, ma'am."
I headed west on Foothill. "We haven't seen you guys for weeks. Didn't know where to bring the pies. Where've you been?" I shifted my glance to his profile; handsome and regal in the darkness. "If you tell me where you’re staying, we’ll bring the pies there."
He put a gentle hand on Boomer to keep him from sliding. "On the move. No time for pie."
I glanced at him. "You missed Ron's funeral."
"We had a service."
"Really?"
"Yes, ma'am."
We crossed the intersection at Foothill and Sunland then I turned right into the shopping center parking lot. A few cars were scattered near the restaurant, but most were clustered at the end where the grocery store stood. I drove straight and took the lane that led to the back of the center. To my left, a small knot of men huddled near the loading dock for the thrift store. "Ah," I said and turned toward the thrift store. I stopped the car a few yards away and put it in park. "So this is where you've been hanging out?"
Mike flicked a look at me. "Sometimes."
"Can I ask you something?" Mike gave a slight nod of the head. "How do you know Ted?"
"Captain is a good man." He flicked me a look. "Upright."
I nodded. "Yes, he is, but where did you meet?"
"Where don't matter — we find each other."
"But…"
He put a leathery hand on mine. "Can't force a man to talk. You gotta wait 'til he's ready.
I sighed and pulled up a few feet closer to the group and idled. "There you go curb service." Mike remained in his seat. "Something you want to say? About Ted?"
Mike picked up Boomer and carefully set him down in the foot well. He studied me then patted my hand. "Be careful ma'am."
"Of what?"
"You stick with the Cap. But we're here if you need us." He stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. “Night ma’am.”
I called through the open w
indow to him. "Careful of what, Mike? Mike?"
Mike walked to his crew. The group of rag-tag warriors hailed his return and enclosed him in their circle of bent heads and hushed voices. For a moment, I watched them but their ranks were closed to outsiders and that included me.
We went home to an empty house that was eerily quiet and made me miss the usual noise and clutter. I got out the doggie treats for Boomer and made a big extra butter bag of popcorn for myself. Together we sprawled on the sofa and ran the first movie. Terrible — flesh eating zombies invade the White House. Too close to reality for me. Rolling off the sofa I reached for the next DVD, but the phone rang, and I dropped it and dumped the bowl of popcorn trying to catch it. Annoyed, I answered the call. "Hello?"
"What in tarnation were you thinking?" Joe whined.
I sighed "What's the matter now, Joe?"
"Why in hell did you tell Beidemeyer his wife hired us?"
My stomach loopty-looped. "I didn't tell him that exactly. He accosted me on the street today and threatened me. Scared the shit out of me. He knew my whole resume, as he put it, and had me backed up against the jeep.” I heard munching noises and looked over to see Boomer cleaning up the popcorn I’d spilled. I sighed. “I don’t know how he got onto us, but he knows who we are. At least, who I am. “
Joe breathed deeply on the other end of the line but said nothing.
"I made the crack about his wife because he rattled me, and I couldn't think of anything else to make him back off." I could hear Joe thinking on the other end of the line. "Joe?"
"All right."
"I'll make it up to you."
"No need. We gave the missus what she wanted. If he sought you out after the fact, she's got no cause to be pissy. For all we know, he saw the report and bamboozled you so you'd admit it to him."
I sighed. "Maybe you're right, but I still feel like a shit."
"You feel like shit? You sick again?"
My blood pressure roiled. "Zelda updating my condition with everybody now? You guys have a blog where you discuss how bad I look too?"
"Get off your high-horse missy. You should be happy people care about you."
I scowled at the phone. "I'm hanging up now Joe. I'll check in with you on Monday."
"Get some shut-eye. And lock your dang doors."
"Lock my doors? Okay, whatever. Night gramps." I hung up the phone and looked at Boomer. “Why is everybody on my ass about everything?
Boomer cocked his head, then went back to popcorn duty.
Getting down on all fours I searched for the dropped DVD. My cell buzzed. "Good God people, it's too damned late for phone calls. I answered the call. "Hello?"
"I'm watching you."
Fear scurried from my toes to the top of my head. "Who is this?"
The caller hung up. I checked the call log but the number was marked private.
Boomer barked and my head snapped in his direction. "What is it, boy?" He whimpered at the front door. Trembling, I jumped to my feet to lock it. Then hurried to the slider and locked it. Boomer barked at the front door again because the doorknob was jiggling. He growled. I swooped up my phone from the coffee table. "Get away from the door or I'm calling the police!" I yelled.
The door knob stopped jiggling. I listened — tense as a bow string.
Ted pounded on the door. "Scotti let me in."
Relief washed over me so hard my legs went rubbery. "Ted?" I went to the door and opened it. "What are you doing here?"
He stepped inside and rather than kissing me, he hit the control panel for the gate. "Your gate was wide open."
I poked my head out the open door and watched as the gate chugged closed. "I swear I closed that." Ted pulled me inside and locked the door. He looked me over but not in a sexy way. "What are you looking for? A weapon?"
He frowned at me. "Why were you screaming about calling the police?"
I rolled my eyes at him and plopped on the sofa. "No reason — just some fool rattling my doorknob in the middle of the night." I frowned at him. "You scared me. Why didn't you just use your key?"
He sat next to me. "I forgot it." He tilted my face up with his hand and kissed me. "What happened?"
I lay my head on his shoulder. "Nothing. Just a crank call."
His body tensed. "What kind of crank call?"
"The usual kind."
"Scotti."
"Ted."
He looked down at me. "What aren't you telling me?"
I looked up and smirked. "So many things, honey. My secret barbecue recipe, my bank balance, that my left boob is bigger than my right boob…"
"Scotti, I'm serious."
"I know honey, you're always serious."
He cupped my face with his hand. "Then you know, I'll keep asking until you tell me."
I sighed. "You won't like it." I told him about my confrontation with Beidemeyer at the famer’s market.
He listened, asked a few questions, then chewed on it for a while. "This is the guy you think killed Ron?"
I nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that's the guy." At last somebody was going to take me seriously about this. “Now do you believe me?”
Tell stood and pulled me to my feet. "Pack a bag, you're staying with me."
I wrinkled my nose. "What? I am not staying with you."
He wiggled his fingers. "Oh yeah you are. Come on."
I folded my arms over my chest and gave him the evil eye. "Leave Zelda and Boomer to fend for themselves? Forget it."
"I've got plenty of room."
I laughed. "So I'll move in with Zee and Boomer, my baking equipment, my appliances, the food truck, Zelda's jeep and my Toyota? And we haven't even gotten to the clothes and shoes." I batted my eyelashes at him. "So many shoes, honey…"
He raked a hand through his dark hair. "How can one little woman be so fucking stubborn?"
I squinted at him. "How can one big gorilla be so bossy?"
Ted laughed. "Are you kidding? I should be wearing a tee shirt that says, 'yes, dear.'
I pushed him back onto the sofa and climbed into his lap. "You don't say? I'm the boss of you?" I nodded and smiled. "Fine, then tell me this. How do you know Mike?"
Ted frowned. "Mike? That's some weird foreplay, honey."
I poked his chest with my finger. "Interesting. I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t tell all. So what’s the deal, Captain America? Is it some army super secret?" I tried to tickle him, but he moved me off his lap and sulked. "Ted?"
"No, it's not a secret." He looked at me. "Why do you want to know?"
I shrugged. "It's a simple question I don't understand why you can't answer it." I got off the sofa and started for the kitchen. "I'm going to make a sandwich, you want one?"
Ted followed me into the kitchen and sat at the butcher-block while I made ham and Swiss sandwiches on Kaiser rolls with lots of mayo and mustard. I opened a club soda for me and a beer for him. We sat at the butcher-block and ate silently, while Boomer gave us the moocher stare.
Ted sighed. "Okay I'll tell you but I don't want a bunch of questions about it. Just let me tell you and then we're done with it." He looked at me for confirmation. "Deal?"
I nodded. "Deal."
He finished his beer then peeled at the label with his thumbnail. "When I was discharged, I was assigned a counselor. It's standard procedure. So if I needed to talk about things, I had somebody to talk to. You don't think you're going to need to. You figure, screw it, it's over, nothing to talk about. But later shit kicks up and yeah, you want to talk."
I nodded. "Okay."
He shrugged. "But it wasn't a good fit. Guy wanted to get into my head too much. Seemed pointless." He spoke like every word was a tremendous effort. "Long story short, I heard about a support group. Casual. No pressure. Just a bunch of vets meeting up to talk." He smiled briefly. "Sometimes we just got hammered."
I put my hand on his. "Yeah getting hammered helps sometimes."
He took my hand and kissed it then placed it on the countert
op. "Mike was in the group. We had similar shit that went down — he got it." He shrugged. "It helped. He helped."
With that revelation, I was burning with questions about Mike. How had he gone from an ex vet who helped other vets in a support group to living on the streets? I understood then, why Ted had insisted on no questions. I nodded. "Okay."
Ted looked at me skeptically. "Okay? No questions?"
M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2) Page 16
