Blown To Pieces (PTO Murder Club Mystery Book 2) (3 page)

Now, I love me a good conspiracy theory, but Big Tommy murdered? It just seemed too far-fetched. Everyone loved Big Tommy.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled it out. “It’s Daman.”

I stepped back for some privacy and slid my finger across the phone, answering the call. “Hello.”

“Someone blew up in front of you?” Daman’s charming Hispanic accent wasn’t so charming when he was yelling at me.

“Actually, he didn’t blow up in front of me. I was like twenty feet away.” It was a stupid argument, but it was the only one I had.

“Ay Dios mío, how do you get yourself into these things?” It sounded like he was slapping his forehead.

“Just lucky.” If only we were FaceTiming and he could see my blinding smile. It really was wasted if I couldn’t blind him with it. “Wait a minute, how did you hear so quickly? You’re out of the country.”

He was God knows where doing God knows what.

He took several seconds, clearly thinking through his answer. “Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you.”

“Again, how did you hear about it so soon?” Something wasn’t right. I knew for a fact that he didn’t have friends in the police department. Maybe he had a firefighter friend? I glanced over at the busy firefighters. It didn’t seem likely that one of them had taken the time to call Daman after they got there.

“Um...” He was beginning to see that his back was against the wall.

I looked around. A shiny black Cadillac sedan was parked five doors down from Big Tommy’s. Hadn’t I seen that car parked outside of my house this morning?

“Oh my God, you have someone following me.” Was Daman an idiot? He’d seen how angry having my house bugged had made me. Did he think I’d be okay with him assigning me a babysitter?

“Well, I...um...have to go. I’m losing the cell signal.” He made fake static noises. “I’m losing you...”

“Really, fake static noises?” I still couldn’t believe that men had run the world for thousands of years and that humankind had made it out of the Dark Ages.

“What? I’m los—” He hung up.

“Son of a bitch.” I shoved the phone back in my pocket. “Daman is having me followed.”

Haley and Monica scanned the street.

Haley pointed to the Cadillac. “That’s Bautista, his butler.”

Until today, all I had known about Daman’s butler was that he was a butler and did some gunsmithing on the side. Now I knew his name.

“I’ve had enough. I couldn’t do anything about my house being bugged, but I can do something about this.” I marched right over to my car and climbed in the driver’s seat. “Are y’all coming or what?”

Haley and Monica both ran for the passenger’s-side door, but Haley elbowed Monica out of the way. Haley opened the passenger’s-side door, and Monica was relegated to the backseat. Haley might look all nice and mild mannered, but I’ve seen her at the Dillard’s New Year’s Day sale. That woman has mad elbowing skills. She took down a woman twice her size over some sixty-percent-off linens.

“Do we want to know what you’re going to do?” Haley buckled her seatbelt.

“Probably not.” I waited until Monica’s door closed, and then I stomped on the gas. I pulled right up to Bautista, slammed on the brakes, threw the car in park, and stomped over to his door.

Calmly, he rolled down the window. His broad shoulders barely fit into the car. He looked more like a bouncer than a butler.

“How may I help you, madam?” Even though he was a butler, I hadn’t expected the British accent.

“Stop following me.” I gave him my meanest stop-following-me death glare.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that. My employer wishes for me to make sure that you’re okay, so I’ll continue to follow you.” His smile was so wooden I could have knocked on it.

“I don’t like you very much.” I pointed my index finger at him. It was very menacing. I would have been scared if I were him.

He mashed his lips together to keep from smiling. “I’m truly sorry about that.”

“Sorry enough to leave me alone?” I knew it was useless, but I kind of just wanted to be a pain in the ass.

“No.” This time he did grin.

I stomped back to Portia and knocked on Haley’s window. It rolled down quietly.

“Yes?” Haley studied a spot on the dash and refused to make eye contact.

“Hand over one of the knives that I know you have in your purse.” I knew she kept an arsenal in her Hermès.

Haley clutched her purse to her chest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I shot her a do-it-or-else look, but she didn’t budge. Clearly, I needed to work on my dirty looks. Somehow I needed to mean them up.

“Now.” We were on the clock. We needed to pick up our kids from school.

She stuck her head out of the window and yelled, “I’m so sorry Bautista, but I don’t really have a choice.”

Haley opened her bag and pulled out a Buck Knife and handed it to me.

“No worries,” he called back.

No worries, I’d teach him about no worries. I unfolded the knife, stomped over to his left rear tire, and stabbed the crap out of it. If he wouldn’t give up on his own, I’d take him out of the game.

I pulled the knife out, only nothing happened. In the movies when someone stabbed or shot out a tire, air came out. This air must really like it inside the tire, because it wasn’t coming out.

“Self-sealing run-flat tires,” Bautista said from the open car window. “Now, if you would be so kind as to get back in your car, I’ll be accompanying you to your destination.”

I truly hated this man.

I’d never even heard of self-sealing run-flat tires.

Like a two-year-old who didn’t want to take a nap, I stomped over to my car and got in.

Monica leaned in between the front seats. “He’s really hot. Kind of like the Rock meets Jason Statham.”

“I forbid you to lust after him. He’s evil.” I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Plus, Baby Hands is in love with you.”

“Don’t remind me.” Monica leaned back and crossed her arms.

Since our clubhouse was blown and we couldn’t meet there, we needed a quiet place to talk. All of our houses were bugged, so I drove to Lakeside Park. We got out and walked to the picnic tables next to the playground. Because it was March in Central Texas, the high was seventy and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Tomorrow it would probably be forty and rainy.

“We need to figure out what to do with all of the money and gold coins.” Haley was always the one to keep us on track.

A couple of weeks ago, we’d stumbled upon them when investigating the murder of my son Max’s kindergarten teacher, who it turned out was a contract killer. Apparently, she’d gotten paid in gold coins and cash.

“I think the two of you should split it.” Haley looked at Monica and then me and back to Monica. “I don’t need it, and I know that both of you could use it.”

Monica and I shared a look. We were both have-nots, and the extra money would help, but it really wasn’t ours. Plus, it had been made by killing other people. I didn’t know if I could live with myself if I took it.

“I don’t know.” Monica bit her bottom lip. “I mean, yes, I could use the extra money, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“Plus, how would it look if we all of a sudden had a bunch of money?” As badly as I wanted more money, it was wrong. And while I was okay with bending a law here and there, I wasn’t okay with selling my soul. Heck, I only had one soul, and I kind of needed it.

“I thought the two of you might say that, but I think if Molly were here, she’d want you to have the money.” Haley drummed her fingernails on the picnic table. “Okay, what about this—we put the money in an account for Molly’s mother, Edna, so she can continue to live out her life in comfort. I thought about putting some money away in a fund that sends Godiva chocolates to Edna weekly, but since she’s one of the vilest people I’ve ever met, I say no chocolate for her.”

When we’d interviewed Edna while investigating her daughter’s murder, the old woman had been more concerned about missing the Godiva chocolates her daughter brought her weekly than she had been about her daughter being dead.

Monica put her arm around Haley. “‘Vile’ isn’t ‘bitch’ or ‘asshole,’ but for you it’s a very strong word. I’m proud of you for expressing your hate, and maybe someday in the future, you’ll be able to cuss like a sailor.”

Haley could give Snow White some serious competition for the goody-two-shoes award...then again, Haley had killed someone a few days ago. The fact that he was bad more than outweighed the killing...probably.

“I’m okay with keeping Edna at Lakeside Living. If the old bitch gets kicked out of her apartment, where else is she going to go? No one else will take her.” I propped my head on my fist. “What about the gold coins?” We’d also found diamonds, but since they’d been stolen from Daman, they really weren’t our concern. I was planning on returning them to him...one day, when he wasn’t having me followed and I didn’t hate him and/or right before the world ended. Whichever came first.

Right now I was keeping the “ice” on ice in my freezer. Come on, freezing the diamonds in my ice cube trays—brilliant.

“Y’all aren’t going to like this, but I think we should discreetly cash out the coins and y’all take the money and put it into college funds for your kids.” Haley wanted to take care of everyone.

A college fund would be nice.

I looked at Monica. “What do you think?”

I had to admit that I felt better about putting Molly’s money into a college fund for Max than I did about spending it on myself.

“I can’t help feeling that the money is bad luck.” Monica hunched her shoulders. “I know, it’s stupid, and I’d love to have a college fund for Landon, but...”

“I know what you mean.” Compromise is my middle name. Actually I don’t have a middle name, but if I did, it might be Compromise or possibly Leah. “What if we hang on to the gold coins for a while and see how we feel about it later? We just need a place to store them.”

“We could bury them someplace.” Haley volunteered. It wasn’t the most original idea.

“Except it’s almost impossible to dig a hole out here. I tried to plant a tree in my backyard and couldn’t because under the inch of topsoil we have it’s nothing but limestone.” Monica had practicality down to a science.

“You have a point.” Haley nodded. “When Humberto tries to plant anything larger than a potted plant, he uses a jackhammer.”

Humberto was Haley’s gardener, and he spent a lot of time pretending to not understand English so he didn’t have to do what Haley wanted. Since his wife made the best chicken tamales in the world, Haley had learned to live with having things his way.

“I have an idea.” Haley raised her hand like the fifth grade teacher’s pet that she no doubt had been.

Monica eyed her suspiciously. “It’s not that we don’t think you contribute to the group, but being devious really isn’t your forte.”

“I’ve got this.” Haley smiled to herself. “Do y’all want to know my genius plan?”

Monica and I shared a look.

“Um...” I hesitated. This was a woman who actually had a legitimate doctor’s note for every single one of her twin daughters’ school absences, and they weren’t from her husband...the doctor. But she clearly had a plan, and we needed to trust her. “We don’t need to know. Just go forth and hide it.”

“If the gold is found, my son will have to go to community college or possibly a technical school; then again, that’s where he was headed ten minutes ago before he had a college fund.” Monica shrugged. “Go forth and hide it.”

“I won’t let you down, and I won’t tell a soul. The two of you are going to be impressed.” Haley was very impressed with herself.

“Okay.” I hadn’t really given Max’s college much thought, since I was too busy trying to feed and clothe him.

“So, we’re good on the money and gold.” Monica sat back and crossed her legs. “What are we going to do about Big Tommy’s murder?”

“Are you sure we have something to investigate?” It wasn’t that I was afraid to snoop around, it was more that this felt like an accident.

“Tell you what, I’ll go on my date with T-Rex and see what I can find out, and then after, we’ll decide whether or not to investigate.” Monica loved a good puzzle.

I looked at Haley, and she nodded. We said in unison, “Sounds like a plan.”

I had no idea why Chris Pratt and Channing Tatum were having a dance-off dressed as gunslingers, but they were shirtless, so I didn’t really care. In the distance, a mechanical version of “All My Ex’s Live in Texas” played over and over. Just when I was about to find out who wore boxers and who went commando, my eyes fluttered open, and all I saw were the dust bunnies colonizing my ceiling fan. How did fans get dusty when they were in motion all of the time?

Mystery of the universe.

My dancing gunslingers were gone, but “All My Ex’s” still played on.

I rolled over and plucked my phone off of the nightstand. Monica was calling.

Last time I let anyone pick their own ringtone. I checked the time on my phone as I hit the answer button. “I can’t imagine why anyone would call me at the asscrack of seven twelve on a Saturday. Has the world been taken over by aliens who disguised themselves as cheerful morning people? If so, where do I sign up to lead the resistance?”

“Like I’ve ever been cheerful.” This early in the morning, Monica’s sarcasm was admirable. I was lucky my eyes were open. It was way too early to get my bitch on.

“Breakfast at the Lane in an hour. Hal’s already up and on her way.” Monica yawned.

I yawned and sent it back to her.

“I’m not hanging up until your feet are on the floor and I have proof.” There was no need for her to yell. I was up...in theory.

“Max,” it was my turn to yell, “get up and get dressed. We’re going to Kerbey Lane for breakfast.” If Monica’s eardrum burst, that wasn’t my problem. Morning people took their lives in their hands if they dialed me before noon on a weekend.

“Passive aggressive much?” Monica yawned again.

“You call the bull in the morning and you get the horns.” I yawned and passed it back to her again. “Stop making me yawn. It’s making me tired.”

Was yawning considered exercise? If so, I should be a size two instead of a six speeding downhill toward an eight.