When Emma nodded with enthusiasm, mahogany-brown pigtails bounced feverishly against her slightly chubby, olive-tinted cheeks. My mother had located a picture of seven-year-old Nana D and designed a matching outfit for my daughter since Emma looked so much like her at that age. “We talked about it on the last day of school. It's when we shoot firecrackers into the sky!”
“Yes, that's part of it, but it's also when we became our own country. Aunt Deirdre thought it would be amusing to shed her independence on the same day America officially separated from England two-and-a-half centuries ago,” I explained. Having lived there for half her life, Aunt Deirdre deemed herself British for all intents and purposes. She also lived inside her head where she dreamed up Victorian romances all day. Ply my aunt with more than two glasses of wine and her American roots were more obvious than the henna rinse in Nana D's wild, three-foot-long braids.
“That sounds like an adult joke. I don't get it.” Emma gave a thumbs-down symbol. “When will Nonna and Nonno be here?” My daughter referred to Francesca's parents by the Italian words for a grandparent. Her hazelnut-brown eyes were darkening this summer, highlighting how much she also resembled her mother before my wife had adopted various disguises. Emma was being kept far away from any conversation about her not-so-dead mother, something even the Castiglianos had easily agreed to with everything exploding around us.
“Monday evening.” I grabbed her hand and rambled toward Wellington Park. Nana D had chosen the cherished location across the Finnulia River, touting it as a critical place to rebuild. She'd also promised free ice cream every weekend in her campaign speeches during the mayoral election. “Look, here's Uncle Gabriel,” I added when my brother caught up with us at the tree-lined entranceway.
At a complicated and sentimental family dinner earlier in the month, Gabriel had announced his unexpected homecoming and the not-so-earth-shattering news that he was gay. Not surprisingly, the Ayrwicks openly welcomed him back into their fold with minimal concern. My mother cried the entire time at her youngest son returning to the roost. Our older siblings couldn't visit for that dinner or for Nana D's birthday party, but I hadn't expected them to travel. When both had mentioned they would come back for the birthday party or the double wedding, Nana D vehemently insisted on the wedding.
“Emma? It can't be! She's grown two feet in the last few days,” Gabriel teased while picking up my best girl and swinging her from side to side. In observance of the warm late June weather, Gabriel donned a pair of dressy long shorts and a collared, black polo shirt. One of his many tattoos peeked out from the shirt's sleeve as his taut, muscular arms carried Emma in near-perfect circles.
“It's too fuzzy! Does it hurt?” Emma giggled as she touched his lip piercing and trim, dark-blond beard. He was four glorious years younger than me, as he always reminded me, but our semblance remained uncannily similar. Although he projected a mysterious and rugged appearance, I erred toward the clean-cut side—except for days like today when I hadn't shaved. I secretly clung to the worthy excuse of dealing with a back-from-the-dead wife. Also, Gabriel had been accepted by the family and was currently the favored, treasured sibling whom our parents and Nana D couldn't stop fawning over. Even our father, the resolute Wesley Ayrwick, seemed overjoyed at his prodigal son's return.
“Nope! But you can't get a tattoo either, I already asked your daddy. He's a party pooper,” Gabriel responded, smiling as his boyfriend, Sam Taft, meandered to his side. After releasing Emma, who excitedly jumped to the ground, Gabriel shrugged and narrowed his eyes at me. “Isn't that so, brother?”
I shot a spectacular warning look at him. He earned only one of those before I'd tackle him for saying such nonsensical and controversial things to Emma. I'd already mandated she wasn't allowed to wear makeup or jewelry, go on a date, or talk to a boy—or a girl, if that's what she decided—until she turned eighteen. I wasn't overprotective. I was cautiously aware and attentive. At least that's how I justified my helicopter parenting. “Why don't you and Sam find Auntie Eleanor? I need to remind Uncle Gabriel about the many afternoons he spent sprawled on the dirty ground as a dumb teenager.”
Sam, the essence of compassion, cocked his head and groaned. “Will you two ever grow up? I'm younger than you both yet more mature than the combination.” To Emma, he said, “Let's go, bean sprout. Grow some legs and race me to the deejay. I bet I can do a better Chicken Dance than you!”
During my distraction while watching them take off, clucking and flapping their arms at their sides, Gabriel tackled me and jumped on my back and shoulders. “Like this, you mean?” he shouted before hooking his legs around my waist, pressuring me to fall, and torturing me with a noogie.
We tossed each other back and forth for fifteen seconds, each of us trying to gain and maintain the upper hand. We only stopped when Nana D intervened and chastised us.
“What is wrong with the two of you? Can't you act like civilized men instead of delinquents who don't know any better?” As we separated, she grabbed each of us by an ear with nimble hands, lowered our heads until they were closer to her own height, and held us side by side. For a moment, we expected a harangue over our behavior, even though we were completely goofing off and not at all fighting. Then, she released our ears and gave us both noogies. “Ha, got you both!”
“Not cool, Nana D,” Gabriel shouted, rubbing his head after escaping her bizarrely strong grip.
“That's not very becoming of a new county mayor. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I added.
“Pish! I'm glad to have two of my grandsons back home. You have no idea what it means to this middle-aged lady to spend quality time with you before I—”
“Move into the Willow Trees retirement complex?” Gabriel interrupted saucily.
The sly smile plastered across his face was more than I could handle. I burst out laughing, grateful he'd said something sarcastic instead of me. Middle-aged at seventy-five? Nana D had not only pushed the envelope, but she sent it reeling over the edge of a cliff to its ultimate death on arrival.
“Gabriel, if you want to keep on living at Danby Landing, you better shut your pie hole. I'll kick you out as quickly as I offered you a temporary place to crash,” Nana D reprimanded, hugging him and kissing his cheek. “I've got big-time control now that I run this county.”
After squashing Town Councilman Marcus Stanton in a landslide victory, Nana D wouldn't stop reminding everyone about the power she'd gained. Of course, she only planned to use it for good, but there was something unnerving and dubious about a woman with a Napoleon complex wielding control over us. “Everyone here already?” I inquired as we marched into the park like wooden soldiers.
“Yes, I'm sorry my other grandchildren couldn't attend. I also wish my two sons could make time for their mother, but I'm glad to have some of my family here to celebrate with,” Nana D said, fighting back a small whimper. She wasn't sentimental very often, but on a grand occasion like a seventy-fifth birthday, the well-hidden side of my nana's personality snuck out for a brief respite.
For the remainder of the afternoon, we shared stories of Nana D's past and presented her with a custom-made drawing of our family tree dating back to the 1600s, the earliest records she'd been able to trace of her ancestors. A local artist specialized in transferring computer-generated genealogical family trees to a 3D-like graphical print format. Everyone had chipped in to make Nana D's birthday as extraordinary as she was to us. Even my father made a brief announcement about how, despite their fervent and frequent disagreements, she was a remarkable woman and a treasure to the family and the county. She frowned when he said ancient treasure, and I knew she'd engineer a way to implement revenge. There'd be a summons from the mayor's office in his mailbox when she officially took charge the following week. As I said, her Napoleon complex was going to have an infinite impact on our lives.
After a delicious picnic spread and tons of games, we watched brilliant colors cascade across the sky as the sun set. Sam exited to join a d
inner party with his mother, and Gabriel indicated an urgency to check on something at the lab where he worked. His questionable timing prompted me to suspect he suffered from a hangover and needed to sleep it off. Emma requested a sleepover at my parents' house, the Royal Chic-Shack, and departed with them. Although Aunt Deirdre had driven Nana D to Wellington Park, she'd wandered away an hour earlier with Timothy to discuss wedding preparations. I was graciously assigned responsibility for getting my nana home safely.
Other guests exited too, lamenting the few remaining hours before ushering in a new workweek. While many of my colleagues from Braxton College had attended the celebration, I hardly had time to socialize with them. Nana D had insisted Emma and I stick close to her side most of the afternoon. Did she want me nearby to prevent another small breakdown, or had she known I was distracted thinking about Francesca's disappearance?
“Penny for your thoughts, brilliant one?” she asked while we loaded her gifts in the trunk.
Nana D had been present when the final postcard and new puppy, a gift notifying me that Las Vargas had kidnapped my wife, had arrived. She supported me while I'd contacted April, in her official role as the sheriff of Wharton County, to ask for help. “It feels like this was my last moment with Emma before I rip off the Band-Aid. How do you tell a little girl her mother isn't dead, and that the woman chose to leave her?” I sighed with exasperation and leaned my head against the side of the SUV.
“You tell her the truth, Kellan. She's your daughter, which makes her brilliant, remember? Francesca caused this debacle, and you'll need to wait for her to resurface. When she does, I plan to give that little harpy a piece of my mind!” Nana D smiled at me and stepped into the SUV's passenger seat, unfazed by the entire kidnapping tribulation. “I have faith you'll determine the best approach—”
Nana D was interrupted when Connor Hawkins, a good friend who'd recently changed jobs from Braxton College's security director to a Wharton County Sheriff's Office detective, approached us. “Happy Birthday, Nana D! What are you now, a half-century?” he said with an infectious beam of excitement gushing on his chiseled face. While I was usually a pasty and pale-skinned kinda guy who couldn't ever find the proper length of time for a good suntan, Connor inherited the perfect balance of skin color from his South African father and Caribbean mother. It even offset his brooding, stormy eyes, as he selflessly and frequently pointed out. Called an Adonis by some, to me he was the mere mortal who managed my workouts so that someday, I might look more like him. Don't tell him I admitted that!
I stepped to the side to let him embrace my grandmother. They'd known each other for a long time since Connor and I had grown up together. While we'd lost touch when I moved to LA, we'd bonded again in the last few months. “I'm glad you stopped by. I worried we'd missed you.”
“Sorry about that, Kellan. I'm still pulling double duty until the college finds my replacement. Just finished organizing the team for the upcoming week, and now I'm headed out on a call. There's been another jewelry heist,” Connor explained as he elbowed the passenger door shut.
“That's awful. Who was it this time?” Nana D settled into her seat and pulled out her phone to make notes. Through the open window, she said, “I was alarmed before, but this is the third one, right?”
Connor replied, “Fourth, ma'am. I suppose I can fill you in on the little I know from today, especially since you're soon to be our new mayor. The Grey family was hit hard this time.”
The Greys, a prominent and wealthy clan, controlled a sizable portion of the county. Judge Hiram Grey, a few years younger than Nana D, sat on the bench for over thirty years. I'd taught his granddaughter the previous semester before she'd graduated from Braxton. “What did the perp steal?”
“I'm not sure. A uniformed officer was called to the scene, but once he realized who it was and what'd really happened, the sergeant contacted me. I'm on my way now.” Connor responded on one of his many technical communication devices that he'd be onsite in ten minutes.
“Was anyone hurt?” Nana D asked as I shook Connor's hand to say goodbye.
“Yes, Imogene Grey is being treated by the paramedics for a head injury. She caught the assailant trying to abscond with a piece of her jewelry and endeavored to stop him before he escaped. I'll let you know later tonight if I find out anything more, Your Honor.”
Once Connor took off, I boarded the SUV and buckled my seatbelt. “It's getting out of control, huh? Imogene is one of the students in my summer session starting Monday.”
“You don't know the half of it, Kellan. This seems inexplicably analogous to the last time we had those unruly jewelry thefts in Braxton. Imogene's mother, Lara, was here recording some video of the party for a news segment. She was one of the victims during the previous round,” Nana D harrumphed.
“That's right, I forgot. You never did tell me what happened.” Lara Bouvier, a reporter for the local news outlet, WCLN, had been married to one of Judge Grey's sons years ago. Their daughter, Imogene, had lived in France for a big part of her life. Imogene was the cousin of my former student, Carla, who'd just graduated and become an art dealer. “I don't think I've ever met Imogene.”
“Sure, you did. She used to run around with Gabriel when they attended Braxton together. Come to think of it, that's the last time those jewelry heists occurred. They stopped right before Gabriel vanished during that nasty thunderstorm.” Nana D cracked her knuckles, lost in a pensive reflection. “Oh, you weren't around then, my mistake. Let's head home, brilliant one. It's been a long day.”
“Are you hinting at something with that comment?” Gabriel had been secretive since his return, and he'd grown darker and more evasive, but he was a good guy at heart. That I was positive about.
“I'm not really up for talking about it this weekend, Kellan. Why don't you drop me off and come for brunch on Monday when I'm more relaxed? My schedule is slammed with meetings all day tomorrow for the upcoming inauguration.”
I had no choice but to grudgingly consent to Nana D's wishes. It was her birthday. She made it acutely clear she wasn't up for discussing it tonight, and I could only handle one melodrama at a time. As we left Wellington Park, a couple dashed across the street and into the park, neglecting to check for any oncoming traffic. I slammed on my horn to warn them, and they briefly looked up with shocked expressions before blocking their faces from my headlights. Given their rush and my focus on the larger surroundings, I hadn't gotten a solid glance at them.
“What's he doing with her?” Nana D mumbled, scrabbling the side of her head.
“Who?” I watched them disappear on a walkway heading south once they crossed the street.
“That was Paul Dodd, Imogene's fiancé. Shouldn't he be home attending to her after the robbery? Not running around with some other woman!” Nana D reproved before reminding me Paul had been elected the new town councilman of Braxton, assuming the role from Marcus Stanton.
“Maybe he was rushing to get home to Imogene?”
“Heading into the park? Nah… and he's supposed to be a stand-up guy. I can't be certain, but the woman he left with looked like Krissy Stanton, Marcus's troublesome daughter.”
Krissy was another student in my upcoming class, which made their sneaky behavior sound as suspicious as that persistent deer invading Nana D's orchard and stealing heaps of ripening fruit. Marcus had threatened to cause a rumpus and wouldn't acknowledge Nana D had officially won the race. He lived next door to us, hence why I also suspected him of being that deer! “Want to follow them?”
“No, I've got ways to elicit the truth from Paul Dodd, Braxton's supposedly perfect politician and model citizen. Leave it to me.” Nana D tapped the dashboard and directed me which way to drive home. “Something's fishy in the state of Pennsylvania. And it ain't your father's feet this time, Kellan.”
Chapter 2
I spent the following morning preparing for my new class, speeding through the lesson plans and syllabus to ensure maximum quality time with my daughter
when I visited my parents. Gabriel and Eleanor played various board games with us that afternoon. Even my folks joined in for several rounds of cards and dominoes. Knowing I still had a few hours of work to complete before classes began the next day, I accepted my mother's offer to watch Emma for another night. My daughter reveled in glory, which was all that mattered to me in the insufferable situation with the Castiglianos and Las Vargas.
The evening and my work passed by expeditiously, enabling me to suggest meeting for a beer to Connor. I secretly wanted to find out what'd happened at the Grey estate, but he was too wrapped up in the case to take a break. All I'd learned was that Imogene hadn't been able to identify the jewel thief, despite being at home when the crook had broken in. Connor proposed a new time for our workout later that week, and I fell asleep early in preparation for the start of a new class schedule.
After a fierce battle deciding what to wear on Monday morning, I dressed in my finest professorial duds. The summer term had made its illustrious debut, and I wanted to appear mature enough to command respect yet modern and casual in a way that befitted the television and film industry. The end result: slim cut, well-tailored trousers in traditional checks and stripes; a heather-gray, open-collared dress shirt; a thin cashmere, V-neck sweater the saleslady called the color of eggplant; and sophisticated dark loafers sans socks. Despite Nana D's effusive insistence, I wasn't morphing into a popinjay!
I hurried to The Big Beanery, a student gathering house providing some of the richest and most flavorful coffee and the craziest and most unfortunate hookups in the entire county. Thankfully, I avoided the latter, except when Nana D had set me up on a blind date those few times. I ordered a couple of coffees and apple tarts sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon glaze to go. I needed something to tide me over until brunch at Nana D's. My body craved desserts just as much as it felt energized by my daily workout, which had been fulfilled by a six-mile run earlier that morning. I assumed the two ends of the spectrum balanced each other out and refused to question the greater authority of a god who permitted me to have free will.
Mistaken Identity Crisis: Death On The Cable Car (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 4) Page 2
