by Lori Wilde
“Sorry,” she gasped, her gaze still on Lily’s retreating back. She tried to step away, but two strong arms held her firmly in place. She looked up to find Nick gazing down at her with molten gray eyes.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said.
She pointed toward the swinging library door. “That was her. That was the eyewitness!”
“Marigold?”
“Her name is Lily,” she said, very aware of the heat of his body and the way his long fingers spanned her waist. She took a step away from him so she could think more clearly.
Nick was still staring at the door. “I can’t believe it. Weasel actually gave us a legitimate tip. Do you want me to go after her?”
“No,” Lucy said, really wanting him to hold her again. But she had to think of her brother first. Even if just the sight of Nick Holden made her heart thump in her chest.
She took another step back from him, still not quite trusting herself. “What are you doing here?”
He held up a canvas tote bag. “Grandma Hattie forgot her books. I thought she might want them for the meeting.”
“It must be contagious. I forgot my cell phone at the ranch when I left this morning and called Hattie so she could bring it with her to the library.” Then she glanced into the meeting room. “But she’s still not here yet.”
He frowned. “That’s impossible. She told me she was going to catch a ride into town with one of her friends. And I found her tote bag sitting out on the front porch of the ranch house.”
Lucy motioned toward the open door of the meeting room. “See for yourself. Everybody’s there but Hattie.” Nick looked in the room, then he looked at Lucy. “If she’s not here, then where the hell is she?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. She never misses a book club meeting. Maybe we should ask the other members. They might have talked to her.”
Lester rounded the corner. “Excuse me, Miss Moore. You have a telephone call.”
Lucy looked up at Nick. “I’d better take it.”
He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll ask the ladies if any of them have talked to Grandma Hattie today. If they don’t know anything, I’m contacting the police.” He rubbed one hand over his midsection. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
So did Lucy. She hurried to the telephone, telling herself not to worry—only she knew Hattie never missed a meeting of the Bluebonnet Book Club. Anxiety trickled through her as she stepped over two toddlers to reach for the phone. “Hello?”
“Lucy, thank God. I thought I’d never find you.” The masculine voice on the other end sounded strained, yet familiar.
“Weasel?” she guessed.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. You didn’t answer your cell phone.”
“Weasel, turn your television down,” she said. “I can hardly hear you.”
“I said I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he yelled. “That twit who answers the phone kept saying you can’t receive personal calls. I finally told him it was an emergency.”
Lucy’s heart froze in her chest. “An emergency? Oh my God! Is it Melvin?” Her two weeks weren’t up yet. Had he gotten impatient? Made his prison break early? She sucked in her breath. “Has something happened to him?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Weasel paused a moment, and she could hear strains of music playing in the background. “But you’ve got to get over here.”
“Where are you?”
“My place. The Firth Apartments on Bale Street. Number 503.”
She twisted the phone cord in her fingers. “Weasel, this really isn’t a good time…”
“Please come, Luce,” he said as the music blared louder. “Please. I…don’t know what else to do.”
The hairs prickled on the back of her neck. But it wasn’t Weasel’s frantic, harassed tone that unnerved her. It was the music she heard on the other end of the line, the music she finally recognized. The theme song to Oklahoma.
“I’m leaving right now.”
A short time later, Lucy arrived on Bale Street. It looked the same as it had when she was ten years old. There was still litter in the streets, cracks in the sidewalk, and a sign in Castellano’s Bakery window offering free weight-loss classes.
Apartment buildings lined the rest of the block—tall, stark brick structures that housed so many families. There were a few with flower pots in the windows and an old man sat on a front stoop tuning his acoustic guitar.
Her old house had been torn down long ago, replaced by a Jiffy Lube. Even with all the changes in her life, part of her would always think of this street as home. Growing up here had made her both strong and resilient. More importantly, it had taught her to dream.
Only now, her dreams went beyond a successful career and a house in a nice neighborhood. She wanted family around her. Not only Melvin, free and happy, but a family of her own—a husband and children, a house that was really a home and a kind of love she’d never dared dream of before. The kind of love that survived whether you lived on Bale Street or in Eagle Estates. The kind of love she had for Nick.
Reconciled with her past and optimistic about her future, she strode into Weasel’s apartment building, smiling at the ragtag little girl of about nine standing just inside the front door.
“Hey, lady,” the girl said, her chin jutting out, her wispy blond braids falling over her shoulders. “Do you wanna buy a genuine gold bracelet? Only twenty bucks.”
Lucy looked at the tin bracelet in the girl’s grubby hand. She’d bet a lot more than twenty bucks that the genuine gold bracelet would turn her wrist green in less than a day. She knew a con when she saw one. And she also knew no one on Bale Street respected a sucker.
“Twenty bucks for that Cracker Jack toy?” Lucy replied skeptically. “I won’t pay a dime over ten.”
“Deal,” the girl said instantly, trying to hide a toothy grin.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Lucy said, trying to hide a grin of her own. “I’ll pay you five dollars now and another five when you show up at the Heritage Library and check out a certain book that I know a smart girl like you will just love. I’m a librarian there and read the same book when I was about your age.”
The little girl shrewdly eyed Lucy’s tailored suit. “Make it ten bucks when I check out that book, and you’ve got a deal.”
“Deal,” Lucy said, exchanging the cheap bracelet for a crisp five-dollar bill and knowing the little girl would be getting something so much more out of the bargain. This is what Lucy wanted to do with her life: help people find their dreams.
As she rode the elevator up five floors, she added to the graffiti on the walls. With a red flair pen she wrote: For A Good Time, Call This Number. Then she printed the Heritage Library’s telephone number below.
She just hoped Lester didn’t find out about her newest promotional idea.
When she reached the fifth floor, Lucy walked down the long, narrow hallway, looking for her destination. To her surprise, the door to apartment 503 stood wide open. Most residents of Bale Street knew not only to lock their door, but to invest in a dead bolt, chain lock, motion alarm, and if they were smart, a hungry pit bull.
Nobody left their door wide open.
Lucy stepped gingerly over the threshold, impressed by the spotless appearance of the living room and tiny kitchen nook. The roar of a vacuum cleaner sounded from a back bedroom. “Weasel?” she called out.
When no one answered, she seated herself on the threadbare sofa to wait until he finished. She’d never known him to be meticulously neat, but perhaps he had changed over the years…or developed an obsessive-compulsive disorder.
She picked up a magazine off the polished coffee table, flipping through the pages of The Mercenary Gazette. It was filled with articles on all the latest assault weapons as well as letters from mercenary enthusiasts. Correct grammar and spelling obviously weren’t high on their list of requirements.
“Lucy.”
She looke
d up to see Weasel standing at the front door, a bag of groceries in each arm.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said, setting the bags on the coffee table. “What took you so long?”
“I had a flat tire,” she explained. “The door was open so I just walked in. I thought you were vacuuming.” They both turned toward the noise emanating from the back room.
He groaned. “So she’s still here.”
“Who? Your mother?”
He shook his head. “Worse.”
“Who could possibly be worse than your mother?” Lucy asked, remembering the acerbic Mrs. Malone.
Weasel sat down on the sofa, burying his head in his hands. “I don’t know how I ever got into this mess. A few easy bucks isn’t worth what I’ve been through.”
Lucy sat down next to him, almost afraid to voice her worst fears. “It’s Hattie Holden, isn’t it? You’ve got her here.”
He nodded, his face still hidden.
“You kidnapped her,” she breathed. “You really kidnapped her. I can’t believe it. Weasel, how could you ever do such a thing?”
Raising his head, he took a deep breath. “I didn’t kidnap her. I’m just…detaining her for a while. She was delivered this morning. My instructions were to keep her here until further notice.”
“Instructions? From whom?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know his name. Some guy who calls me whenever he wants a job done.”
She shot to her feet. “Like kidnapping? I thought you went straight, Weasel.”
“I did. I am. I usually turn him down when he calls. I’ve certainly never done anything like this before.” He wrung his hands together. “But this job came up and the money was too good to turn down. I want to get out of this neighborhood, Lucy, just like you did. And I might have a chance if my book is a hit. But I need some fast cash to cover printing and promotional expenses.”
She blinked back her surprise. “Book? What book?”
A blush stained the skin under his whiskers. “I write…poems. My publisher says they’re good, but he’s just got a small press. If I want wide distribution, I have to kick in some bucks.”
“Weasel,” she said, sinking back down onto the sofa. “There are other ways to get money. Legal ways, like grants, loans, a second job. I’ve heard they have some openings at Farley’s Fish Hut.”
“For minimum wage? That would take forever. I’m already thirty-one years old. Sometimes I think I’ll never get out of this neighborhood.” He rubbed his temple with his fingertips. “This was my ticket out, Luce.”
Her pity for him turned to anger when she remembered exactly what he’d done. “By manhandling a defenseless old woman? Poor Hattie! Not only have you kept her locked away here against her will, you’re forcing her to clean your apartment.”
“You don’t understand…”
“Oh, I understand.” She leaped to her feet. “I understand that Nick was right. You’re still a two-bit hood. And I’ve been defending you!”
He rose off the sofa with his hands up, backing away from her as she stalked toward him. “Now wait just a minute…”
“If you’ve harmed one hair on her head…” she warned.
“I’d never do that!”
“But you’d make her grandson go crazy with worry,” she accused, grappling in her purse for her hair spray. “The only reason I didn’t tell Nick I was coming here was because I thought he’d kill you. Especially for making Hattie feel so alone and afraid!”
Weasel tripped over a footstool, falling to the floor. “I’m the one who’s afraid,” he clarified, holding one arm up in self-defense. “I’m afraid she’ll never leave. Ever since she got here, Hattie Holden has made my life a living hell.”
Lucy lowered the hair spray. “What are you talking about?”
He swallowed. “She’s driving me crazy. Why do you think my door is wide open? For fresh air? I’ve tried everything to get her out of here. I even called her a taxi.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s true! She took control as soon as she stepped over the threshold. She made me watch Oklahoma.” He ran a shaky hand over his forehead. “And now I can’t get those songs out of my head!”
Lucy took a step back. “You let her watch Oklahoma?”
He snorted. “Let her? I haven’t let her do anything. She just does exactly what she wants to do. If you don’t believe me, just ask her.” He pointed down the hallway.
Lucy looked up to see Hattie pushing the upright vacuum cleaner toward a corner closet.
“Hello, Lucy,” Hattie exclaimed with a wide smile. “What a nice surprise. Walter, get up off that floor. I just vacuumed in there. And take those shoes off. I told you I want to give them a good polish.”
“But they’re tennis shoes,” he squeaked, rising to his feet. “Canvas tennis shoes.”
“And just think how nice and bright they’ll look after I whiten them up.” She set the vacuum cleaner in the closet, then shut the door. “Oh, by the way, I told your next-door neighbor, Vinnie, to keep the noise down or you’d be over to teach him a lesson. And I strongly suggested he take a bath.”
He gulped. “Vinnie the Viper?”
“Is that what was tattooed on his chest? I thought it was a caterpillar. It was hard to tell with all those chains.”
An oven timer chimed from the kitchen.
“Oh, my sticky buns are ready,” Hattie said with a smile, moving toward the kitchen. Then she turned to Weasel. “I put that prune sauce in the refrigerator for you. That should help take care of that little problem we talked about earlier.”
When she was out of the room, Lucy turned to Weasel. “Does she even know she’s been kidnapped?”
“No, I don’t think she does,” Weasel said, his eyes wide. “I feel like I’m the one who’s been kidnapped—in my own home. Please, Luce, you’ve got to help me. Just take her with you and I swear I’ll never do anything like this again. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Then prove it,” Lucy replied, still upset with him. “Tell me who hired you to do his dirty work.”
Weasel sank down onto the sofa. “I already told you I don’t know his name. But I think he’s connected to the Protégé Project.”
Lucy sat down next to him. “The Protege Project? But that doesn’t make any sense. They hire people to park cars and paint houses, not commit felonies.”
Weasel shrugged. “All I know is that every once in a while, me or one of the other guys in the program gets a call to do a job that pays a heck of a lot more than parking cars.”
Lucy stared at him, wondering what could be going on. Whatever it was, Weasel did seem genuinely remorseful. She almost couldn’t blame him for succumbing to temptation. She knew that burning desire to get off Bale Street, to make a better life for yourself.
But just how far would Weasel go?
She leveled her gaze on him. “So did this mystery man send you to the Hanover Building the same night Nick and I were there?”
“No. Mad Dog sent me there to get the keys and title to his car. He wanted to sell it so you wouldn’t have to pay his legal fees.” He sighed. “And I know what you’re thinking, Luce. But I didn’t start that fire, either.”
Lucy stood up. “I don’t know what to think. And what am I going to tell Nick?”
“I don’t know… I don’t care at this point.” Weasel wrung his hands together. “Just take that woman with you.”
They both looked up as Hattie walked back into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Sticky buns, anyone?”
“Why don’t I take you home now, Hattie?” Lucy suggested. “You’ve done enough work for one day.”
“I’ve barely scratched the surface,” Hattie replied, shaking her head. “Poor Walter needs a woman’s touch around here. I could probably stay a month and find plenty to keep me busy.”
Weasel visibly paled.
“But Nick’s worried sick about you,” Lucy said. “He thinks…you’ve been kidn
apped.”
Hattie frowned. “Now that’s just plain silly. A taxicab arrived at the house this morning, and the driver told me I’d won a free ride into Pine City. Does that sound like kidnapping?”
“No,” Lucy admitted. “But it does sound a little odd.”
Hattie nodded. “The cab dropped me off in front of the building and Walter met me at the front door. I thought it was all part of that community mentor program I signed up for at the library.”
“And I can’t thank you enough,” Weasel said, pulling Hattie toward the door. “Really. This is a day I’ll never forget.”
Hattie patted his cheek. “You are such a sweet boy. And I think with a proper haircut, you’d be a real charmer.”
Weasel reached for his ponytail. “Haircut?”
“I’ll bring my scissors next time,” Hattie promised.
“Next time?” he squeaked.
“And you can keep that DVD of Oklahoma until then.”
“Oh, no,” he protested. “I absolutely couldn’t do that.”
“Of course you can. I’ve got two more copies at home. Work on those dance steps, too. You almost had it this afternoon.”
“Maybe you can teach me a few, Hattie,” Lucy said as they walked out the door. She had a feeling she’d need them when she tried to explain all this to Nick.
15
“Let’s go over our story one more time,” Lucy said as she and Hattie hovered in the darkness outside the back door of Hattie’s house.
“You really think Nicky will be upset?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Upset? I think he’ll be homicidal, especially when he finds out Weasel is the reason you’ve been missing for the last several hours. I just hope he hasn’t called the police yet.”
“Oh, dear,” Hattie murmured. “And Walter is such a sweet boy. I think he just needs a little attention.”
“Well, he’ll get plenty of attention if Nick has him arrested for kidnapping,” Lucy replied. She knew Weasel had screwed up, but didn’t he deserve a second chance? Just like Melvin? Just like Nick?
“Kidnapping?” Hattie echoed. “Now that’s just plain silly. Perhaps the circumstances of my meeting Walter were a little unusual, but I like to think it was fate. It felt nice to be needed. And I was never held there against my will. Walter made it perfectly clear to me that I was free to leave. In fact, he mentioned it several times.”
