Group, Photo, Grave (A Kiki Lowenstein Mystery)

by Slan, Joanna Campbell

  “Nice wheels,” she said, as I led her to Sheila’s Mercedes. “About time you traded in that piece of junk you drive. Where are you taking me for dinner? I want someplace where I can sit down.”

  “Sorry. We’re in a bit of a time crunch today. I promise to take you out to eat next week, but we don’t have time to stop today. Detweiler is flying in, and I have to pick him up from the airport.”

  “He can wait,” she pouted.

  “No, he can’t,” I said. “He’s bringing his son, Erik, back from California. Erik’s only five. I’m not leaving them standing around at the airport. You remember about Erik’s mother, don’t you? I told you about it. She died in a car crash. I need to be there when he arrives, okay?”

  “Tsk,” she made a disgusted noise and waved her hand at me dismissively.

  The Spirit of St. Louis is an airfield, west of the city proper. The airport exit is Long Road, which must be someone’s idea of a joke because it’s not long. It’s short. I poked along looking for TacAir, one of four fixed base operators, or FBOs. (Airway speak for “airlines,” sort of.) According to Detweiler each FBO had its own lounge facilities, with vending machines. Eventually, I found the place and parked the Mercedes. Ignoring the dust kicked up in the open spaces, I helped Mom out of the car and promised her something to eat.

  As I handed Mom a can of Coke Classic and a bag of Doritos, I heard the roar of an airplane engine. It sounded like it was coming right up to the outside door. I stood up and tried to see out the window. The engine roared and the smell of fuel filled the tiny lounge. Finally, I spotted the top of Detweiler’s head coming at me.

  “Detweiler!” My heart turned a somersault as he threw open the door.

  I ran into his arms and felt the solid strength of his embrace. As always, he smelled of Safeguard soap . “But where’s Erik?” I asked.

  With a half-turn he pointed his chin at a woman wearing a kilt, a stiff white blouse, and knee socks. In her arms was a little boy, who had snuggled his face into her chest, so that all I could see was the back of his head and his red curly hair. “Um, Kiki, this is Erik and Bronwyn Macavity. Uh, she’s our new nanny.”

  Our what?

  I tried to smile at her. Then I turned back to Detweiler with a question in my eyes.

  “Not now,” he said quietly.

  Okay. Off to our right, I noticed that my mother was still busy with her snack. Good.

  “Mrs. Lowenstein, I am very pleased to meet you,” Bronwyn said in a thick Scottish accent. When I offered her my hand, she shook it heartily. Erik snuggled deeper into her embrace.

  “Erik? Laddie? Where are your manners?” She prodded the child, using her thick Scottish brogue. “This is Miss Kiki. You need to thank her for your presents.”

  He didn’t move.

  I sensed my mother standing behind me and smelled the Doritos on her breath. She was nearly treading on my toes.

  “Kiki is the lady with the donkey,” prompted Bronwyn. “You remember him?”

  “His name is Monroe, and he wants to meet you,” I said.

  The little boy turned his head to stare at me. I gazed into a pair of chocolate eyes in a face the color of my morning coffee—and I fell instantly in love.

  “Good lord!” said my mother, shoving me to one side so she could look at Erik. “That boy is black!”

  Epilogue

  Two days later…

  Kiki’s house in Webster Groves, Missouri

  “Annie! Annie!” Erik squealed as he ran through our house. I watched from my old wingback chair as he closed in on Anya.

  “Ready to go feed Monroe?” My daughter snatched her new brother up and twirled him around.

  “Apples? Carrots?” Erik asked. With another squeal, he locked his arms around Anya’s neck and hugged her.

  “Yep. Let’s get them out of the refrigerator, okay?” She swung him down onto his feet.

  The two of them went racing into the kitchen where I heard the refrigerator door open and shut. Gracie looked longingly after the kids, but she didn’t follow them because Detweiler was rubbing her ears.

  “We might have a few moments alone. Bronwyn is at the store today until three. At least I think that’s what she told me,” said Detweiler.

  I reached up and pulled him down for a kiss as the back door slammed shut behind the two kids.

  Gracie pawed at Detweiler, eager for his attention.

  “Yes, we might have all of five minutes,” I said with a giggle. “Monroe will make short work of those treats. Actually Brawny won’t be back until five. She’s working up a class description with Margit. Something about knitting two socks at once. On one knitting needle curved into a loop. They’re both excited about it.”

  “That must be what I saw Brawny working on in Los Angeles. Pretty amazing stuff.” He sat on the arm of my chair so he could slip his arm around me. “Kiki, how are we going to manage this? Our house is bursting at the seams.”

  “I have no idea, but we’ll figure it out. Thank goodness Anya and Erik get along like the proverbial two peas in a pod. I found him snuggled next to her this morning. He must be waking up and crawling in beside her at the crack of dawn. How he manages to scoot the two cats out of the way, I’ll never know.”

  “Brawny doesn’t seem to mind sleeping on the sofa.” Detweiler picked up my hand and kissed it. “I am so sorry I sprung that on you.”

  “And I’m sorry I brought my mother along with.” I kept apologizing for her rude remark. Detweiler brushed it off and Erik didn’t seem to know what she meant. Brawny’s face had remained stoic, but I could feel her tense up. What a miserable introduction to my family!

  “Any idea what’s been keeping her and Amanda so busy?” he asked.

  “No, and Aunt Penny seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth, too.” I sighed. “I’ve called several times and although they answer, they get off the phone quickly. Really fast.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure they’ll come around,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

  “Wait until they come over for dinner. That lamb stew Brawny made last night for dinner was fabulous.” I felt a tickle and stared down at my belly. “Oops. Our other son is awake and kicking. At this rate, Brawny will have her own soccer team.”

  “Two boys,” said Detweiler. “I’m going to be the daddy to two boys and a beautiful girl.”

  The crunch of footsteps on gravel told us we had visitors. Gracie jumped to her feet and ambled over to the front door.

  “You expecting anyone?” Detweiler asked, but he took his time leaving my side.

  “No. Sheila and Robbie are boarding their cruise ship. They managed to catch up at a port along the way. Mom is at senior care. Amanda is at work. Rebekkah and Margit are at the store with Brawny.”

  “Aunt Penny,” we said in chorus.

  “But she doesn’t have a car,” I added. I admit I was unwilling to hop up. Boy, was I ever tired. Even with Brawny’s help, Erik was a handful.

  “Maybe she rented or borrowed one,” said Detweiler, as he glanced out the peephole on my door. “Nope. It’s Amanda. She has someone with her.”

  My sister gave Detweiler a quick hug and stepped into our living room. She crossed the floor to pull me out of my chair.

  “I told you I needed to meet someone at the train station,” she said. “You’ll never guess who.”

  I struggled to my feet.

  Detweiler stepped to one side—and I stood face-to-face with my sister Catherine.

  ~ The End ~

  Excerpt from

  TEAR DOWN AND DIE

  A Cara Mia Delgatto Mystery

  By Joanna Campbell Slan

  Prologue

  Late August, St. Louis

  As if he were looking out into the future, the light faded in Sven’s brown eyes, and his weight settled in my arms. A sob burst from my chest, as I whispered, "He’s gone, isn’t he?"

  The vet, a grizzled man near retirement age who had a habit of clicking his dent
ures, pressed the stethoscope to my dog’s chest. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded.

  "I killed my dog," I said to my friend Kiki, as her fingers gripped my shoulder. "I killed him!"

  With surprising strength, she grabbed me and turned me so that we faced each other. "You did not kill him. He’s been having seizures for the past eight hours. You released him, Cara Mia. You gave him peace!"

  I threw my arms around her neck and cried. I choked and sputtered and moaned and keened and all the sadness of the past six months heaved up inside me and overflowed onto the shoulder of my friend. Kiki Lowenstein simply held me, patting my back, making soothing sounds. The vet wisely left us alone.

  When I was nearly cried out, he asked, "Do you want to take your dog with you?"

  Kiki’s fiancé, Detective Chad Detweiler made a move to bundle Sven in a blanket, but I said, "No. Please cremate him. I plan to leave the area. I want to take him with me."

  The rest of the visit is a blur. The staff graciously murmured their condolences as we walked through the office. Other clients looked away. They understood instinctively what had happened.

  The tall detective opened the door for us, and we climbed into Detweiler’s big police cruiser. Kiki and I sat in the back seats so she could hold me. We’d made quite a fuss on our arrival. Detweiler had used his flashing lights to speed us through the city traffic as I watched Sven convulsing on my lap. Silently, I thanked my lucky stars for having friends who dropped everything and came to my aid at a moment’s notice. Leaving St. Louis would be hard, but I’d had enough. My parents were both gone, having died within six months of each other, and my son was off to college.

  Now this.

  "I am never, ever going to own another dog," I said. "Ever."

  For a long portion of the ride, Kiki said nothing. She stroked my hair and let me cry, leaking tears now rather than sobbing.

  When we pulled up to my house, she walked me inside while Detweiler waited for her in his car. I appreciated how he gave us a bit of privacy. After she got me settled on my sofa and made me a cup of chamomile tea, Kiki sank down next to me and said, "Now you listen to me, Cara Mia, and you listen good. Of course you’ll get another dog. Of course you’ll love again. I know you and I know that you believe in second chances. We both do. That’s what makes life worth living. And if you forget how important they are, if you start to doubt that they are worth the heartache, remember this—"

  And she pressed my fingertips to her belly so I could feel her baby kick. "Second chances," she said. "That’s what life’s all about. Don’t you ever doubt it."

  Chapter 1

  Early September...

  Sometimes you have to go backwards to move forwards. Especially when you doubt yourself and don't know what to do next. All my packing was done. I stood there, surrounded by boxes that would go into storage until I found a new place to live.

  "Where you moving to?" asked one of the men from the van lines as he flicked the butt of a Camel cigarette onto my lawn. Except it wasn't my lawn. Not anymore. So why worry?

  "Uh, I haven’t decided yet."

  That pretty much summed up my life: I haven’t decided yet. I was at a crossroads, a spot on the map between emptiness and confusion—

  and I didn't know which way to turn. So I signed the paperwork and hopped my car, the black Camry I’ve named Black Beauty, and started driving aimlessly around St. Louis. Before long I was pulling into a familiar parking lot.

  "Cara Mia Delgatto! I've been thinking about you." Kiki stood at the back door with a red dog leash in one hand.

  "Let me guess. You were on your way out the door to take Gracie for a potty break." I reached down and patted the harlequin Great Dane with the floppy ears.

  "Uh-huh. Care to come with? You can tell me how you've been."

  We hadn't gone halfway around the block when I broke down and started crying uncontrollably. Kiki and I rested our butts on a low concrete block restraining wall so I could sob while Gracie sniffed and peed. Kiki put her arm around me, and I wet her shoulder with tears while she patted my back and murmured, "Get it all out, Cara. You'll feel better."

  When I'd cried me a river (the Mississippi, I'd guess from the muddy look of it), we started back to the shop. Once inside, Kiki put Gracie in the doggie playpen and grabbed a Diet Dr Pepper for me and a bottle of water for her.

  "It’s done. Everything’s going into storage. I couldn’t stand being in that big house night after night by myself," I said. "I don’t want to see the restaurant again, either. It doesn’t matter whether it's called Cara Mia's or not. That was our place, our family place. Now that Mom and Dad are dead, and Tommy’s left for school, there's nothing to keep me here in St. Louis. Besides, winter is coming and I've always hated cold weather!"

  "Time to make a new plan and move on down the highway." Kiki smiled at me, her curls framing her round face. One hand rested protectively on her belly where her baby bump was beginning to show.

  "But I'll be leaving so much behind."

  "Yes, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Come on back to the store. I have a little gift for you.”

  Once I was seated at her work table, she handed me a gift bag filled with tissue paper. I reached inside a scrapbook, a memory album of my years in "the Lou."

  "This is just grand," I had said, as I paged through the album. "I could have never done anything like it."

  "We all save our memories in different ways. You are just as sentimental as I am, Cara. Look at you! I bet those are Tommy's old jeans you're wearing, right? Your son grew out of them and now they're yours."

  "That's right. Since I've always had to dress up to work at the restaurant, I like being casual the rest of the time." Tugging on my white tee-shirt, I added, "This is one of his Hanes v-necks that he outgrew. I also have on his red Converse high tops. My belt was once my father's, but I had it shortened to fit. These rings on my right hand are my mother's engagement and wedding rings."

  "What about that cute red bracelet you're wearing? Where'd it come from?"

  I extended my arm so she could see the red rolled-leather band. "This was Sven's puppy collar that I shortened. The charms are all his tags. I saved them through the years."

  "May I remind you of all the redecorating you did at the restaurant, and how you came in under budget?" Kiki grinned.

  "You helped."

  "Only a bit. In addition to all that, you always smell like sandalwood," Kiki said. "I bet there’s a memory associated with that fragrance, as scent is the most powerful way we evoke remembrance.”

  "Sandalwood brings back good memories of summers in Florida. My grandfather lives down there in Stuart. My parents used to rent an apartment for us above an antique store. The place was always stocked with bars of sandalwood soap."

  "See?" Kiki said. "We're both into saving memories. You're more of a recycler while I'm a papercrafter. You've been so busy raising Tommy and working at the restaurant that you haven't had the chance to explore your crafty side."

  I managed a weak smile. As she had predicted, that long crying jag had been cathartic. "You might be right about that. I'm pretty handy with a glue gun."

  We walked to Kiki’s car where she reached in and handed me a heavy shopping bag. "There's a surprise inside for you to enjoy on the road so you'll think of me."

  "Like I could ever forget you!" I took the sack and thanked her.

  "I expect you to stay in touch. Oh, and don't forget to send postcards!"

  Scrapbookers. You gotta love them.

  I waved once more and pulled out of the parking lot. The hardest part of my journey was just ahead, as I'd have to drive past the Arch, that magnificent silver rainbow in the sky. It had always been a talisman, a welcome mat.

  But this time, it seemed to wave goodbye.

  Tear Down and Die will be available October 18, 2013

  Author’s Notes:

  Cover Credits to Jessica Compton

  Photo Credits to Amber Bishop http:
//amberbishop.com.

  The Zentangle® art form and method was created by Rick Roberts and Maria Thomas, and is copyrighted. Zentangle® is a registered trademark of Zentangle, Inc. Learn more at http://www.zentangle.com.

  Many thanks to my wonderful Beta Readers, Allyson McGill, Amy Goodyear, Ann Shepard, Barb Hendrichs, Barbara Tobey, Brenda Cernak, Candi Bise, Carol Amie Lavory, Carole Power, Dawn Maxemow, Gail Woo, Jackie Velkhoff, Jane Smith, Jen Ebright, Karen Hatley, Linda Hutchinson Donahue, Linda Johnson, Mary Kennedy, Molly Franks, Pam Hargraves, Sara Tagliere, Stella Carsten, Terrie Allison, Tracy Barcus, Tricia Conner, Victoria Lynn Bray, Victoria Hrabe, and Yifat Cestare.

  I appreciate all the time that each and every one of you spent helping me to make this the best book possible.

  Craft Projects

  Kiki Lowenstein’s Twist on Speed Scrapbooking

  “Speed scrapbooking” is a method of organization that will allow you to save more photos in less time. By collating and prepping, you seamlessly move from one page to another. Since Kiki has so many albums to do, she’s developed a method that works for her.

  If you are doing a custom album for someone else, you’ll find these steps particularly helpful.

  Supplies:

  A plastic file case that holds hanging file is useful *

  Index cards

  Folders for the file case

  Sticky notes

  Your photos

  Ephemera or memorabilia

  *You probably won’t find a file case that will accommodate 12 x 12 inch paper. No problem. Just use regular business size file case—and keep your 12 x 12 inch paper in a separate container. Kiki loves the kind that have the snap on lids with a handle. The ones with storage in the lids are particularly useful.