“Uh...just that...well...tonight, at the party? Goober might pretend to be you.”
Tom’s smile disappeared. “What? Why?”
“We’re going to try and get a confession out of Amsel. You see, yesterday, I sort of lent Goober your sport jacket so he could deliver a box of cigars to Amsel and invite him to Caddy’s tonight.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It was just a spur-of-the-moment idea...part of a plan I hadn’t thought through yet. I figured if we could get Amsel to Caddy’s tonight, maybe we could find a way to get a confession out of him before it was too late.”
“But why did you have Goober tell Amsel he was me?”
“I didn’t! You see...Goober found your business card inside a pocket of your sport coat and...well, it’s all a big misunderstanding. I’m sorry, Tom.”
“Geeze, Val! Were you really going to let me go to Caddy’s not knowing about this?”
“I...I’m telling you now. And it’s not too late. If you’re up for it, tonight we could work on this thing together, as a team.”
“This thing? Val, I’m a police officer. We have rules to follow.”
“I know. But you see, Amsel wasn’t in the office yesterday. He never saw Goober. You could take his place as...you know...yourself.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re saying I could be me tonight?”
“Uh...yes.”
“Thanks.”
“Well...that is, as long as you don’t mind also being the president of the St. Pete Cigar Lovers’ Club.”
“Really Val? I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless.”
“Then don’t say anything. Just come along for the ride and let Goober do the talking.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. I was trying to be funny.”
“We went way past funny a long time ago.”
“Okay, Tom. You’re right. I get that. But you told me that being a team means we shouldn’t hold anything back. I just want you to know that that’s it. You now know my entire Plan A.”
“Good. Wait a minute. Does this mean there’s a Plan B?”
“Eeh...yes and no. I thought it might be wise to have a backup strategy.”
“Do I want to know about it?”
I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “Probably not, as I haven’t got it all worked out yet myself.”
I LET TOM STEW IN HIS own juices until lunch time. He emerged from the bedroom looking a little less angry – more like Robocop than The Incredible Hulk.
“I’ve had time to process this,” he said as he emerged from the bedroom. “And from now on, we need to hold nothing back. If we have a problem, we need to share it, Val. We need to be brutally honest with each other to the bitter end, or you and I are never going to work.”
“Is this the bitter end?”
Tom’s face registered surprise. “No. Not even close.”
My gut relaxed with relief. “Thank you. In that case, I have another confession to make.”
Tom winced and closed his eyes. “What?”
“I hate broccoli.”
A sea-green eye peeped open.
“You do?”
“I abhor it.”
“So do I!”
“Then why on earth did you make a giant batch of broccoli salad for dinner the other night?”
Tom burst into a stupid grin. “So we could eat healthy. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“No way. You gotta die of something. Might as well die fat and happy.”
“If you hate broccoli as much as I do, then why did you eat it?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“See? That’s what happens when we keep secrets from each other.”
“What?”
“We both end up miserable for no good reason.”
“So what do you want to do about lunch?” I asked. “It’s still raining cats and dogs. I hate to put a poor takeout delivery guy through this.”
“The weather’s not supposed to clear up until this afternoon,” Tom said. “We could defrost the giant bag of Brussels sprouts in the freezer.”
“Yuck.”
“What have you got against Brussels sprouts?”
“Hopefully anything except my tongue. As far as I’m concerned, sprouts should remain a verb, not a noun.”
Tom grinned. “That’s funny.” He looked down, bit his lip and blew out a breath. “Well, since we’re being totally honest with each other....”
“What?”
Tom walked over to the freezer and pulled out the bag of sprouts.
My upper lip met my nose. “I told you –”
“Hold on a second.” He set the sprouts on the counter and reached into the freezer again. When he pulled his hand out, it was holding a pint-sized carton of ice cream.
“You’ve been holding out on me!” I screeched.
Tom laughed. “My secret hiding place. I knew you wouldn’t touch that bag of sprouts. What would you say to just putting on some sweatpants and eating ice cream for lunch?”
“I’d say I never loved you more than this very moment.”
Tom grinned. “So, I can take that as a ‘yes’?”
“Most definitely. All I ask is one small favor.”
“What’s that?” Tom’s handsome face shone with an adoring expression I hoped one day to live up to.
“When I’m old and gray and big as a whale?” I said.
“Yes?”
“If I lapse into a coma, promise me you won’t pull the plug until I’m a size four.”
Tom grinned. “I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“I hope there’s a break in the rain soon,” I said, and let go of the bedroom blinds. “I’m supposed to meet the guys at Caddy’s in an hour...you know, to go over the plan.”
“Is that Plan A or Plan B?” Tom quipped.
“Plan A, as far as you know.”
“I thought I was part of the team.”
“You are.” I opened the bedroom closet. “So tell me, detective, which of my outfits would be best for Operation Take Down Amsel?”
“You may want to wear your rubber wading boots.”
“You’re right. It may never stop raining.”
“Rain wasn’t exactly what I was implying. You really know how to step in it, Val.”
“Ha ha, Tom.”
He had a point. I looked in my closet for some rubber-soled shoes that would go with the red sundress I’d pulled out. “Well, I’m going, come hell or high water. It’s the last chance the gang has to be together at Caddy’s.”
“I’m surprised they’re still serving food,” Tom said.
“They’re not. It’s alcohol only. And BYOB – as in, bring your own barbeque. Everybody’s bringing something.”
“We’ve got the rest of that big broccoli salad....”
“These are our friends, Tom. I’d like to keep it that way. Besides, our contribution is the pig. Jake saved it from drowning in the pit yesterday, and was supposed to be roasting it in his oven today.”
“Sounds good.” Tom’s face dropped suddenly. “Oh, geeze, Val! What about Laverne? Do you know what Salmonella Sally’s bringing? How are we going to switch it out?”
“We don’t have to worry about that anymore.” I tugged on the sundress. “Zip me?”
“Sure.”
“I discovered Laverne’s secret ingredient that was giving everyone the squirts. Turns out she was using Krassco in everything.”
“Krassco? As in WWII lard?”
“That would be it. Apparently, she’d somehow secured an almost-lifetime supply of it.”
“I wonder how many lifetimes she’s taken with it.”
I smirked at Tom. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Val, in Vietnam, we used to leave tins of that stuff behind to disable our enemies.”
“Well, whatever. It’s all used up now.”
“Wait a minute. I thought
you said you’d told me everything.”
“We’ve been together a few years now, Tom. There’s bound to be a bit of a backlog I’ll need to clear out. You’ll have to give me a few mulligans.”
Tom grinned. “Okay. As long as they don’t contain Krassco.”
I laughed and peeked through the blinds again.
“Hey, looks like there’s a break in the rain. You ready to go?”
“Sure. But you look much too beautiful for a simple stakeout.” Tom slipped his hands around my waist. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else planned?”
“I promise. I guess I just wanted to look my best for our last dance at Caddy’s.”
“Well, my lady, mission accomplished.”
JUST AS TOM PULLED into a parking spot at Caddy’s, J.D. pulled up beside us in his white Mercedes. I watched as diminutive J.D. scooted around and opened the door for Laverne. Statuesque in her gold high heels, she towered over J.D. like Godzilla over Tokyo.
“Why don’t you do that for me?” I asked Tom.
“What? Come up to your waist?”
“Ha ha. No. Open the door for me.”
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I never complain when someone’s polite.”
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises today? Sit tight and allow me.”
Tom got out and opened my door. I took his hand and emerged from the SUV like a middle-class Marilyn Monroe.
“Hey, Laverne,” I waved at the pair. “Hey, J.D.”
“Looks like it finally stopped raining,” J.D. said.
“Good thing, too,” Laverne said. “One raindrop would ruin this whole batch of meringues.”
I took a peek at them. “They look delicious, Laverne.”
“Congrats on the whole Krassco thing,” I heard Tom whisper to J.D. as I admired Laverne’s treats.
“I’m a real survivor,” J.D. joked with Tom. Then turned to me and said, “Here, Val, these are for you. I figured I owed you them.”
I looked down and smiled with delight. “Where did you find these?”
“At the drugstore. It’s the first of September. Time for the Halloween candy – before the Christmas junk arrives.”
Tom eyed the bag of chocolate-covered marshmallow ghosts in my hand.
“What’s that all about?”
“I claim a mulligan,” I said. Tom rolled his eyes.
“Guess what,” Laverne said. “Something ate the apples in the washtub. It had to be Randolph!”
“It could have been a possum,” Tom said.
Laverne shook her head. “Impossible. It was Randolph, all right.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“Easy. The goggles are gone, too!”
I should have known....
I nodded at Laverne and caught a glimpse of the ugly, three-story orange house neighboring Caddy’s. “Are you going to miss the place when you move?” I asked J.D.
“I haven’t yet, so I probably won’t.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I moved out on Wednesday. The deal with Amsel closed on Thursday.”
“Oh.” The finality of his words made everything going on seem real for the first time. A sting of disappointment shot through me.
“J.D.’s been staying with me,” Laverne said. “We’re officially shacked up...until his place is ready at the Ovation.”
“But the lights are on,” I said, nodding toward the house. “Who’s over there?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” J.D. said. “The check’s in the bank. Let Amsel do with it what he wants.”
We stepped up onto Caddy’s open porch. We were the only folks there besides a bartender I recognized from way back, but couldn’t remember his name.
“Hi,” I said. “We’re here for the going-away party. Where is everybody?”
“With Greg and Norma gone, most of the customers quit showing up days ago,” he said. “I guess tonight the bad weather’s keeping away the rest.”
“It’s just a little rain,” I said.
The bartender sighed. “You know that old saying, fair-weather friends. What can I get you?”
“A Tanqueray and tonic please, twist of lime.”
I reached for my wallet, but Tom’s hand folded over mine.
“I’ve got this.” He turned to the bartender. “I’ll have a beer. Windy tonight, eh?”
“Yeah,” he said, and handed us our drinks.
As I took a sip, I glanced over Tom’s shoulder and saw Jake come in. He walked up to me and handed me something.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the tag that was clipped to Randolph’s ear. I took it off before I baked him. I thought well, you might want to have it.”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“It might be closure...you know, for Laverne.” Jake nodded his head sideways toward the bar. Laverne was leaning over the counter, offering the bartender a meringue.
“Oh.” I tucked the tag in my purse. “Maybe I’ll show it to her later.”
“What’s that?” Tom asked.
I winced. “Uh...another mulligan.”
Tom shook his head. “Keep this up Val, and you might have to move to Ireland.”
Chapter Forty
“Where’s the pig?” I asked Jake while Tom was distracted talking to J.D.
“It’s in my van. I’m going to need some help carrying it in.”
A heavy gust of wind swept through the porch like a whirlwind, bringing enough moisture with it to melt my hair like cotton candy in the rain.
“Should we put it on a picnic table outside?” I asked, swiping at an errant strand of hair.
“Better make it indoors,” Jake said. “It looked like it was getting pretty rough on my way over.”
I glanced out at the greyish-red sunset fading over the Gulf. “If the weather was gonna get worse, they’d have said something on the news.” I nodded over toward the bar. The TV above the bartender was tuned to a tennis match.
“I guess,” Jake said. He looked past me in the direction of the parking lot, then quickly said. “If you need me, I’ll be drinking in the men’s room.”
“Huh?” I followed his line of sight and saw Nancy stumble through the door, a squawking parrot on her shoulder. She had Hawaiian leis stacked around her neck up to her chin. “Isn’t that ridicu –” I said, turning back to Jake.
But he was already gone.
I WAS MAKING SMALL talk with a parrot when I heard Winky bellow behind me.
“Better watch out, Val!”
I turned to find him standing right next to me, Winnie at his side.
“Hey, you two!”
“Winnie brought you a batch of them awful cookies I told you about.”
“Winky!” Winnie shot him a dirty look. “Here, Val.” She handed me a sack. “These are for Snoggles. They’re dog treats.”
“Oh,” Winky said. “Well that explains it.”
I stifled a smirk and strategically changed the subject before those two erupted into another domestic disagreement. “Tell me. When you two get married, are you gonna have kids?”
Winnie opened her mouth to say something, but Winky beat her to it.
“Nope,” Winky said. “We got the dogs now. Our Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy. They’re enough for anybody.”
Winnie opened her mouth again to say something, but this time Milly beat her to it.
“You can never have too many dogs,” her voice sounded behind me. I turned around to see my old friend Milly with Vance by her side. “In fact,” she said, “we’ll be looking for good homes for a new batch of pups in a couple of months.”
“It seems Charmine has gone and gotten herself knocked up again,” Vance said. “This time by a Chihuahua named Paco.”
“So, it appears you two are expecting again,” I quipped.
“Really? You, too?” Jorge asked as he and Sherryl walked up. “We can’t wait for ours to get here!”
“But Jorge,” Milly said, “I thought you didn’t want a puppy.”
“Puppy?” Jorge’s face reddened. “Oh! Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Yes,” Milly said. “What else?”
“Oops.” Jorge cringed and wrapped his arm around his wife, Sherryl. “Well, we don’t want to upstage Goober’s big day, but we’re expecting!”
“Expecting what?” Winky asked.
“A bambino...or bambina,” Sherryl said.
Winky clapped his hands together. “All right! I got me some bongos in the truck. Maybe we can start us up a band tonight!”
Jorge glanced around at the rest of us. I couldn’t speak for anyone else, because I, for one, was speechless.
Jorge shook his head. “No, Winky. What Sherryl means is that we’re expecting a baby.”
“A gaul-dang baby?” Winky cried out. “Well I’ll be! Allow me to correctify myself. Congratulations, you two!”
Tom came over and joined us. “What’s going on?”
“Jorge and Sherryl are having a baby!” I said.
Tom eyed me carefully. “You knew already, didn’t you?”
I diverted my eyes. “Mulligan.”
“This here calls for some champagne!” Winky said to the bartender. He obligingly pulled out a bottle from the cooler behind the bar and uncorked it while everyone congratulated the expectant couple.
I helped Winky pour the champagne into plastic cups, and we passed them around until everyone had one. But when I got to Winnie, she put her hand out to stop me.
“I can’t have any,” she said. She looked up at Winky. “I’m pregnant, too.”
Winky let out the biggest hillbilly yell I ever heard.
“Wooo hooo!” he hollered. He grabbed Winnie, hugged her close and said, “I thought you’d done hard-boiled all your eggs in that hot tub of ours.”
“Hardly,” she laughed. “Sorry I’ve been so grumpy lately. I wasn’t sure you’d be happy about the news.”
“I ain’t happy, Winnie. I’m what you call it? Aesthetic.”
“Ecstatic?” I asked.
“That’s the one!”
“Never a dull moment,” Goober said, walking up wearing a ski cap.
“That’s a good look for you,” I quipped, and handed him a cup of champagne.
Val Fremden Mystery Box Set 3 Page 57
