I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at the pale moon. "I think you and I have the same feeling." I looked back at her. "Do you have anything of Ron's? Anything he left behind?"
Donna's brow wrinkled in thought. "Could be he left something in the guest room out back." Tears welled in her large eyes. "I haven't had the heart to go in there since he passed."
"Mind if I take a look?"
"No, I don't mind, but what do you think is back there?"
I pushed myself off the stoop and stood. "Probably nothing." I shrugged. "But it's worth a try."
Donna took me through the backyard to the garage. At some point in its history, a room was added to the garage, because it bumped out to the right and had a flat roof. "Interesting building."
Donna nodded. "Yeah, the previous owner was an amateur woodworker, and built himself a shop." She shrugged. "When I moved in, we tore out most of the shelves and turned it into a guest room." She smiled fondly at the garage. "Ron did most of the work. Guess it was only fair that he got to use it." She unlocked the door and opened it for me. "Okay then, I'll leave you to it. Come to the kitchen door when you're finished." She turned toward the house and walked slowly, shoulders slumped and head down. Boomer, enamored with his new friend, trotted behind her.
I pushed the door open with my foot and felt around for a light switch, then I stepped inside and closed the door. The room was an eight by eight box, with a small bathroom in the back corner. Probably a good size for a workshop but awfully tight for living quarters. Unless you’re a former soldier used to living in barracks and foxholes.
Donna had made the most of the room — a single bed with a maple headboard, dressed in clean white linens, a small leather reading chair, and a side table big enough for a lamp and a paperback. Directly across from the bed were built-in bookshelves that housed a few books, extra linens and a television, with drawers beneath it for clothes storage. Above the headboard hung a large framed black and white family photo. Pale yellow paint colored the walls and mini blinds covered the single window that looked out on the yard. Despite its size it was a comfortable, cheerful room — certainly better than sleeping on a park bench.
There were no signs that anyone had used the room. The bed was made with precision, the side table clear of any debris and the waste basket empty. Nothing hidden in or between the books, or under the linens and the lower drawers were empty. I stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly, looking for anything out of place, but it was as neat as a barracks ready for inspection.
In the bathroom, the medicine cabinet contained a partially used tube of toothpaste, a fresh bar of soap and a still packaged toothbrush. The shower was clean and dry; the towels fresh and draped neatly over the rod.
If there'd been any evidence of Ron's stay there, it was gone. Still, I had a feeling. I looked under the bed. I took the picture off the wall and checked the backing. I looked under the cushion of the reading chair, behind the television and, raised the mini blinds on the window. Not a thing.
The only place left to check was the bed. I stripped it down to the bare mattress but again found nothing. Feeling a fool, I hurried to make the bed in case Donna returned to see why I was taking so long. When I tucked the flat sheet under the mattress, my hand grazed something. I lifted up the mattress and found an inexpensive sketch pad. The type that high school and college kids use for practice. I flipped through the pages of pencil drawings of people and places. Each signed RJ in the bottom right corner in small, neat cursive.
When I finished, I turned out the lights, closed the door and took the sketch book with me. When I rapped, Donna let me in and her inquisitive eyes studied my face. Boomer danced at my feet as though he hadn't seen me in years.
I held up the sketch pad. "This was hidden under the mattress." I gave it to Donna. "Was Ron an artist?"
Donna opened the pad and flipped through the pages. "He used to draw when he was in school. I didn't know he kept at it." Smiles came and went as she looked at different drawings. When she reached the end she closed the pad and gave it back to me. "Will this help? Is it evidence?"
I stared at the sketch pad in my hands. "Hard to say. But I'd like to keep it for a while and study it more closely. I promise I'll get it back to you."
Donna nodded. "You keep it as long as you want. Don't know what good it'll do, but you're welcome to it."
Donna poured us each a glass of iced tea and we sat at the table. Boomer jumped into my lap and settled in. "I don't know what good it will do either, but he hid it for a reason." I shrugged and tucked the pad into my bag. "If I find something I'll let you know." It wasn't late, and I hadn't been there long, but I felt tired. Scooting back my chair I said, "I should go. Early start tomorrow." I tucked Boomer under my arm and stood. “I’ll call you in a few days and touch base, okay?”
Donna walked me to the door and stood in the doorway waving as I drove off. I watched her in my rearview mirror — tiny and sad from that perspective. I doubted that the sketch pad meant anything, but I felt obligated to show Donna I was trying. I'd study it over the weekend because I had a busy and shitty week ahead of me.
Chapter Thirty
Tuesday wasn't stick your head in the oven bad, but it was bad enough. I only had three near collisions but was flipped off ten times that much. Though I was furious with Zelda for abandoning me, being my own driver while handling everything else gave me a newfound respect for her contribution to our business. I wanted to cry when I realized it wouldn't be our business much longer. It was hard to imagine doing it without Zelda. We'd been inseparable most of our lives and done everything together. Until now.
Wednesday was better because the truck and I came to an understanding — I ground the gears less, and it was more cooperative in return. I hit the Foothill station house first thing then worked my usual route in Glendale. It was an easy route because all the stops were close together and didn’t require freeway driving. And easy was something I needed. I finished by mid-afternoon and since there was no reason to hurry home, I stopped at Ted's shop. His crew would dig the free pie and coffee, and I could steal a kiss or two — and maybe a little moral support.
I hit the horn when I pulled into the lot, and Ted’s crew swarmed the truck while I happily gave away pie, cake, and coffee. There were a few unfamiliar faces, and I think a few guys from another shop across the street got in on the action. Fine by me, I needed to feel appreciated, and sometimes a smile from a stranger goes a long way. When the feeding frenzy ended, I closed up the truck and went inside to find Ted.
Ted's office manager Kathy, met me outside his office door. "Scotti!" She held a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of pecan pie in the other. "You’re an angel. Thanks."
"My pleasure." I eyed the office door and put my hand on the knob. "Can I go in?"
Susan put her goodies on her desk and sat, dying to dig in. "He's waiting for you."
"He knows I'm here and didn't come out to the truck?"
Susan forked off a bite of pie. "The perks of being the boss, somebody else gets the coffee and pie."
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Men." I opened the door and stepped into Ted's office. “Hi honey, I’m home.”
Ted sat behind his desk, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled back and tie askew. In front of him was a half-eaten piece of chocolate cake and a tall coffee. "Hi baby," he mumbled around a mouthful of cake. “Good eats.”
"Hey Scotti."
Ted's baby brother, Matt, sprawled on the sofa, also scarfing down cake and coffee. "Hey Matt."
He stuffed cake into his mouth. "Dude, you are the awesomest baker."
I gave Ted the eye. He looked at Matt and said, "Hey bro, give us a minute?"
Matt nodded. "Sure." He grabbed his cake and coffee and left the room.
Ted finished his cake and gulped down his coffee. "Where's Zelda?" He wiped chocolate off his lips with a paper napkin.
I shrugged. "Got me." He curled a finger at me. I stepped closer to him. "Yes?"
He pulled me into his lap and stroked my back. "And you don’t know the location of your partner because?"
I tickled his ear with my finger. "She didn't tell me."
He gave my hair a tug. "Do I have to pull it out of you detail by detail? Because I’m well-versed in interrogation methods."
I pursed my lips. "She left the keys to the truck and a note saying there was an emergency. That's all I know."
He chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows. "She's holed up with this Henry, huh?"
I hunched a shoulder. "Probably."
He rubbed my shoulder gently. "So you're one tired little girl? Why didn't you call me?"
I smirked. "Why? Because my best friend broke up with me?"
"No, because you need help."
I took the napkin from the desk and wiped chocolate from the corner of his mouth. "I can't really sell coffee and pie by limo."
He took the napkin out of my hand and tossed it on the desk. "I would've sent one of my guys to help, smart ass."
I kissed him, and he tasted like chocolate. "Right, that’s why I didn't call you. Because you would've sent out a team, whiteboarded my route, had everybody on talkies…" I fanned out my arms. "Would've been a whole strategic thing."
He frowned. "Still doubling up on those stubborn pills?"
I climbed out of his lap and pulled up a chair. "Still taking your superman protein shake ten times a day?" I stuck out my tongue. “Where’s your cape, at the dry cleaners?”
"Scotti."
I yawned and stretched. "I’ve got it all under control, thank you very much." I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Although I could use a comb."
He rocked back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Yeah, yeah, you're an independent woman, hear you roar. And always ready to prove it too."
I made a face at him. "I don't do that."
Ted propped his feet on the desk and slouched. "So, you're just going to work the truck by yourself until…when?"
I rubbed my face with both hands. "I don't know. Until I hear from Zelda." I frowned. "This could be temporary punishment or could be she's just done. I can't make any changes until I know which." I glanced at him. "Like you said, we’re partners."
He dropped his feet to the floor and put his elbows on the desk. "Exactly why you should let me help you until you two patch things up."
I shook my head. "I don't need your charity."
Ted smirked. "How is it charity?"
"You lend me somebody on your payroll to cover for Zelda? How is that not charity?" I raised a finger. "All I really need is somebody to drive the truck. Maybe I could hire somebody." I looked around as though a driver would materialize on the spot. "If only I knew where to find a driver."
Ted grinned. "Baby, have I got a guy for you." He turned to the door. "Hey Matt."
Matt opened the office door and said, "Yeah, bro?" His lips were brown with chocolate stains and he looked about five. Just the kind of person I wanted to drive my truck — ah, no.
I frowned at Ted. “You can’t be serious.”
But he was serious. Matt was off from school for the summer and had nothing to do. In my mind, Matt’s idleness wasn’t a good reason to hire him. However, he also had a commercial driver's license having driven for Ted previously. And that was a good reason to hire him. He didn’t give a damn about the pay, but the all you can eat pastries perk made him more excited than any normal human should be about free pastries. Still, I had doubts. But given my desperation and lack of alternatives, we closed the deal. The worse that could happen is he’d wrap my food truck around a telephone pole.
Ted slung his arm around my shoulder and walked me to the truck. He bent his head close to mine. "I'm coming over tonight."
I looked up at him and shook my head. "No, you're not." I wagged my finger at him. "It's a school night, and I need my sleep, mister."
He put his arms around my waist and picked me up in a bear hug. "I'll bring Chinese and an overnight bag." He gave me a big smacking kiss on the lips. "No arguments. End of discussion. Say okay, honey."
I groaned. "Okay honey."
He put me down and said, "I'll see you in a couple hours." He kissed the top of my head. "Now go home and relax until I get there, okay? Please? Will you do that for me?"
I made a pouty face. "If I must." He smacked me on the butt. "Okay, okay. I'll go home, take a nap, have a bubble bath and eat bonbons until you get there. Okay?" I climbed into the truck and shut the door. "Men."
<<>>
Despite assurances to the contrary, Marge had left Daisy in my yard to stand guard while I was working. Overjoyed to see me, Daisy threw her 90-pound body at me and promptly knocked me on my ass. Boomer zoomed around from the backyard and while Daisy water-boarded me with her gigantic tongue, Boomer sniffed up and down my prone body to ensure I hadn’t been with another dog during my absence. I lay in submission until their anxiety passed, dusted off my ass, then put Daisy back in her own yard.
Before going into the house, I checked and double-checked the gate to ensure it was secure. Everything looked fine but just to keep my sanity, I snapped a picture of it with my phone. If somebody was screwing with me, I wanted to have proof. I never left the gate open before, regardless of my mental state, so there was no reason to believe I was doing it now. Besides, the gate was programmed to automatically close once you drove through. The only way to keep it open was to engage the manual override — and I hadn't done that. I hoped it wasn’t Zelda screwing with me, but when she’s pissed, she isn’t above doing such things. On the other hand, I couldn’t imagine her pranking me in a way she knew would scare me.
But if it wasn’t Zelda then who? Marge mentioned break-ins in the neighborhood, but nothing was missing, and there were no signs of a break-in. I doubted it was Beidemeyer because he struck me as a coward. I stared at the gate and sighed. Logic told me it was a short in the system or some other mechanical problem. And that meant a repairman and that spelled money. I turned away from the gate and went to the truck.
Boomer did his best to help me restock — mostly yapping and dancing on his hind legs, but there's a lot to be said for that kind of enthusiasm. I wondered if Matt would show the next day for work. He was a sweet kid but kind of an airhead. Given his surfer boy good looks, I figured he never really had to work hard for anything. If so, he was in for a shock.
And Ted’s insistence on staying over probably had more to do with his lack of confidence in Matt than anything else. No doubt, he was prepared to drive the truck if Matt flaked out on me. I surrendered to the reality that no matter how much I protested, Ted would always want to take care of me and my problems. And though I'd never admit it to him, I loved that he cared that much about me.
After I finished restocking, I took a long shower, put on some fresh clothes and lay down on the sofa for a quick nap.
"Scotti?"
My eyes fluttered open. Ted loomed above me wearing a concerned look. I stretched and sat up. "What time is it?"
"Almost seven."
I stretched again and looked around the room to clear the head fog. "I was only going to lie down for a few minutes." Ted gave me that funny look again. "What's wrong?"
"The gate was open when I got here."
I ejected off the sofa. "It was not." I grabbed my phone. "I have proof. Before I went into the house, I checked the gate and took a picture of it closed." I scrolled through my phone for the picture then held out the phone. "See?"
Ted studied the photo. "What did you do after you took the photo?"
"I came inside, took a shower and lay down." I frowned at him. "What? Do you think I'm sleep-walking?"
He went to the front window and looked out. "Maybe you've got a short or some sort of electronic interference." He turned away from the window. "I'll call my guy and have him come by tomorrow. Check it out."
"Fine, as long as I pay the bill."
Ted put his arm around my shoulders and walked me toward the kitchen. "No, I'll cover it."
/> "No, you won't. This is my house, and I pay the bills. Fixing my gate is not a legitimate business expense for you."
Ted sighed. "Okay."
I looked up at him. "Okay?"
He nodded. "No point in arguing something I can’t win, so okay. You pay for it." He kissed the top of my head and nudged me into the kitchen. Waving a hand at the butcher-block he said, "But I can pay for dinner." The butcher-block was set with plates, flatware, chopsticks, napkins, and candles. Placed in the center were open containers of Chinese food emitting the aroma of hot spicy food.
I smiled but my stomach lurched. "Looks great, honey." I got up on tippy toes and kissed him. "That was very thoughtful of you."
Ted piled his plate with spring rolls, chicken chop suey, barbecue spare ribs, fried rice and noodles. I peered into the containers looking for something that wouldn’t make my stomach explode. I settled on a small mound of noodles and picked a few veggies out of the chop suey.
M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2) Page 19
