Drive Thru Murder

by Colleen Mooney

  Later that evening, some of the things Sandra had said to me were still churning in my mind when Jiff picked me up to go to dinner to meet his family. I told him I was a little nervous and hoped they liked me.

  “Are you kidding? I have four brothers who are never home, and a sister away at school. My parents love to entertain, and now they mostly have an empty house all the time,” he said. “My Mom and Dad are looking forward to meeting you. Dad said the other night didn’t count. They hope you like them.”

  After the introductions, Mrs. Heinkel told me to call her Ava. This woman was a Judge and I felt like I should call her ‘Your Honor’ instead of Ava, but I made an effort to do as she asked and before long I felt very comfortable with her and her husband.

  The brothers trailed in separately. Some brought girlfriends for dinner. There was a happy chatter added to their home with every arrival. The boys kissed their mother and their dad, and greeted each other with hugs. It was a loving family.

  Ava told me her daughter was away at school so she wouldn’t be joining us, but she sent her greeting and looked forward to meeting me the next time she was home on break. That was going to be Thanksgiving and she invited me to join them for their family dinner.

  Jiff saw me looking at his brothers and then back and forth to his parents. “Don’t try to decide which one we look like,” he said.

  The brothers all laughed.

  One said, “We’re all adopted, so we won’t look like either of our parents, or each other.” They were all tall, but with different features, different coloring in hair and complexions. Not one of the sons looked like his mother or his father.

  “Well, I was a heartbreaking case, unlike these other hoodlums,” Jiff said, feigning sadness. “Seems I was hit by a car riding my bike to school and in a coma for months. When I came out of it, my mother had died and my dad had moved away. Ava was stuck with me.”

  The brothers were all acting like they were wiping away an invisible tear.

  Ava wrapped her arm through mine saying, “Don’t listen to any of them. They are spoiled beyond repair.” Over her shoulder she said to them as she led me to another room, “I’m giving Brandy the tour before you all have her running out the front door screaming in fear.”

  Ava gave me the grand tour of the first floor of the main house only. She started by saying, “Let me show you the most important room here so you don’t have to ask,” and opened the door to a powder room which looked bigger than the entire house I rented. There was a fainting chaise, a bookcase on one wall, a mirrored vanity and a closet with a variety of sweaters, coats, umbrellas and bathing suits. “This is my escape room. No one ever thinks to look for me here,” she said smiling.

  She walked me through the other rooms, ten in all. There was the library—where the guys often hung out and smoked cigars after dinner. She showed me her atrium where she liked to be alone with her thoughts, or sit and chat with friends. Ava asked me to sit with her so we could talk. She directed me to a rattan chair opposite her settee which she chose to sit on. I sank in a sumptuous cushion.

  “So, Jiff tells me how you met. He said it was very romantic,” Ava said.

  “He definitely swept me off my feet,” I said. She was easy to talk to, unlike my own mother.

  “I think you know I’m a Judge for the Criminal Court system here,” she said. I nodded. “Well, he says you do rescue work for Schnauzers. He adores Isabella, and I understand you were quite instrumental in keeping harm from coming to her and Jiff. I wanted to let you know how grateful my husband and I are to you for that, and I always will be.”

  “I sort of feel like I rescued them, but they saved me,” I told her. “Your husband sent me a very generous donation to my rescue fund after that which was totally unnecessary, but much appreciated.”

  “We had just lost our little Schnauzer we had for eighteen years a few months before you met Jiff. His name was Fritz. We’d be happy to adopt one from you if you find another one who needs a home. I don’t care what he or she needs, we’ll cover it all. Geoffrey supports my doing the sort of rescue I do,” she said. “Children. All our sons are adopted. The only time I got pregnant was for my daughter, after we had adopted five boys.”

  “That seems common, pregnancies after adoptions,” I said.

  “Yes, it does seem to be the way it works. My daughter was totally unplanned. We hadn’t even thought about it for some time when I found out I was pregnant with her. I started as an attorney in family court and saw so many children lost in the shuffle. My husband and I met there. He was doing pro bono work and we met on a case where he had been appointed to represent the interests of the children. This is his family home. He’s a trust fund baby, but he recognized the need for safe, stable homes for children if they were ever going to make something out of their lives. We adopted these five boys because we felt we needed them more than they needed us. It’s hard to explain,” she said.

  “That’s very noble,” I said.

  “I feel it was more of them saving us then us saving them. Jiff was the first. He had been hit by a car and was in a coma for months at the old Charity Hospital. No one knew who he was, no one came looking. When he finally came out of it, he didn’t remember very much, just riding his bike to school. Jiff said he was five years old and went to St. Tresa’s, which was how he said St. Theresa. We didn’t know he was riding a bike—a red bike to school until he told us that’s all he remembered. So, I had his school as a place to start.”

  There was a tingling feeling starting in my feet and working its way up my back.

  She went on, “I found the school, which was easy enough, and they told me the mother had committed suicide on pills from grief over his disappearance. I devoted every second to finding his father, but ran into many failed searches. The closest I got was a neighbor of the family said his father was so overwhelmed with the loss of both his wife and son he moved out of state. I wrote letters to every person with his father’s name in every state I found the name. Finally, a man wrote back, but said he worked traveling all the time and could not care for his son. He said it would be better if he was in foster care so someone could adopt him.”

  Oh my God!

  “I believed once Jiff found his mother and father, all of his memory would come back. After I heard this, I spoke with a child psychiatrist who didn’t think sending him to a strange place with no mother and the possibility of an absentee father who worked most of the time would help him remember anything. He’d be left in daycare in the best-case scenario, or worst case, home alone.”

  I found myself barely nodding. My mouth felt so dry, I couldn’t say anything.

  “I decided on the spot that I would adopt him, and I did. When I told Geoffrey what I was going to do, he said, ‘Let’s get married immediately. You and the boy need a family.’ The next day we got married at City Hall. Jiff’s adoption went through shortly after that and we all moved in here with Geoff’s mother. She adored Jiff and bought him his first pet, a Schnauzer, for his fifth birthday and he named her Isabella. We got a male after the first Isabella passed and named him Fritz. We’ve always had Schnauzers ever since. When Jiff moved into his own place and got a dog of his own, he named her Isabella.”

  “How sweet to name this one after the first Isabella,” I said.

  “No, he named them both after his grandmother. Geoff’s mother’s name was Isabella,” she said.

  The story of the two dogs named Isabella after Jiff’s grandmother lightened the mood.

  “Did he ever remember anything else from his childhood?” I asked. I had an overwhelming urge to run and hug him and never let go.

  “He asked about his mother only once. Geoff and I always told the children the truth when they asked questions. Jiff knows he’s adopted. He knows his mother died, and he was in an accident when he was young and spent time in the hospital. He knows his father could not take him and asked for him to be put in foster care to be adopted. He trusts us to tell him anything that h
e wants to know,” she said.

  “Why did you tell me this?” I asked.

  “Because you grew up in that neighborhood where he went missing, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did, but how did you know that?”

  “Jiff told me you grew up in that neighborhood and when I was trying to find his parents I interviewed your father. He told me about Jiff’s mother taking her life and his father moving. Your dad may not even remember talking with me, but he also told me Jiff had a red bike and used to ride you on the front. He mentioned you two went to the same school together. Jiff’s attraction to you isn’t unfounded, but I don’t think he realizes why.”

  “This is not a complete surprise to me,” I said remembering the vision Sandra had. “While I don’t believe in fortune tellers, I had a neighbor who told me she had snapshots of people pop into her mind. She didn’t always know what they meant. She offered to read my palm as a thank you for something I helped her with. During the reading, she had a vision of me on a red bike. She said I wasn’t peddling; I was riding on the handlebars. She also said something from my past is in my future.”

  “I don’t subscribe to most of that, but I do think some people have a gift of picking up on our energy or connecting with us on some level that can’t be explained,” Ava said.

  “Knowing this makes me wonder about all the other stuff she told me,” I said.

  “I wanted you to know how very special Jiff is to us. I believe in my heart you two were meant to be together.”

  She got up and held out her hand for me to take and said, “Let’s go join the family and see who else has arrived.” Then we walked back to the front of the house with our arms interlocked.

  The End

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  About the Author

  Colleen Mooney was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, where she lives with her husband and rescued Schnauzers. She graduated from Loyola University of the South and has lived in Birmingham, Alabama, New York City, Madison, New Jersey and Atlanta, Georgia. She has been a volunteer for Schnauzer Rescue of Louisiana in the New Orleans area for over fourteen years and has placed over 350 abandoned, surrendered or stray Schnauzers. If you are interested in learning more about New Orleans or have questions for Colleen, please contact her at one of the following:

  email:

  colleen@colleenmooney.com

  Website:

  www.colleenmooney.com

  Facebook:

  facebook.com/ColleenMooneyAuthor

  Twitter:

  twitter.com/mooney_colleen

  OR

  To find out more about Schnauzer Rescue visit their webpage, Facebook or email and share photos of your BFF with us here:

  www.nolaschnauzer.com

  facebook.com/nolaschnauzer

  Email: nolaschnauzer@gmail.com