Weeding Out Trouble (19 page)

Finally, in a raspy voice, he said, "Do you need a hug?"

Slowly, I nodded.

He wrapped me in his arms, cocoon and all, and I couldn't keep the tears from falling.

A minute later my mother walked into the room and gasped. "What's going on? Did someone die?"

Riley backed away, and I noticed moisture in his eyes too. I wiped away my tears. "No. But I think we're all mourning something this morning." I shooed Riley off my bed. "Go lie down. I'll bring you some medicine in a minute."

He left, walking slowly, as if the fever wouldn't let him move any faster. My mother took his place on the bed.

Her eyes were filled with tears.

"Why are you crying?" I asked her.

"Mothers,
chérie
, will always cry when they see their babies in pain."

She put an arm around me. I dropped my head onto her shoulder and told her about my conversation with Kevin.

"It was something he needed to hear, c
hérie
. And it was very brave of you to tell him so."

"I love Bobby," I said to her.

"I know that,
bébé.
"

I looked into her eyes, a blue much like Riley's. "Then why do I feel guilty for not loving Kevin anymore?"

"Because, you're a fixer. Fixers want everyone to be happy. It's time for you to learn, perhaps, that sometimes people need to fix themselves."

"It sucks." I sniffled.

She laughed. "That it does. Get dressed. I'll make you some breakfast." My mother thought food was the best medicine for any ailment. "Remember, I'm taking Kevin for his checkup this afternoon, so we'll be gone for a trifle."

The house almost to myself . . . It was enough to make me giddy.

I took a few minutes to get dressed, brush my hair, my teeth. I still felt out of sorts with myself and thought talking to Ana about it would make me feel better.

She didn't answer her home number. I tried her cell next, but it went straight to voice mail.

I hadn't heard from her last night, but figured she'd been pouting about being left at the airport. Was she still mad at me?

I dialed Riley's pediatrician next and made an appointment.

While I had the phone out, I called Tam to do a little research for me and asked to speak to Ian.

"He's not here, Nina."

"Oh. I was hoping to talk to him."

"You could call his cell, but if you just wait you should see him today."

"I should?"

"I know he was planning to stop by your house today. To see you."

By the time I made it downstairs, no one was around. I peeked out the kitchen window and saw why. All hell was breaking loose outside.

I rushed out the back door and into the fray. I spotted Brickhouse on the fringe, BeBe at her feet, sitting obediently. She licked my hand as I sidled up, trying to take it all in, pick apart conversations.

I spotted the local reporter milling around the crowd, and soon a news van pulled up in front of Miss Maisie's house.

"What's going on?" I asked.

She clucked. "Twenty frozen Cornish game hens were delivered all throughout the neighborhood this morning to various residents. Miss Maisie is convinced someone is trying to poison the elderly neighbors, and she called the news."

Miss Maisie needed meds.

But . . . who on earth would send Cornish game hens? It had to have something to do with the turkeys and Gregory Peck as well.

"Who delivered the hens?"

"UPS."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Brickhouse cracked a smile too. BeBe's tail swished.

We watched the crowd. People circled, traveling from one conversation to another. My mother, Kevin, Mr. Cabrera, Flash, and even Bobby were in the midst of it all.

There was no sign of Ian. I wondered when he might be coming by and what he needed to see me about. Had he found out anything on the missing white pills?

Brickhouse clucked. "UPS can track the buyer."

"Unless they used a fake name."

"You always were a killjoy, Nina Ceceri."

As I smiled—it was such fun bantering with Brickhouse—I spotted Miss Maisie storm into her house and slam the door. A second later Bobby walked over to us. I gave him a kiss. "What's with Miss Maisie?"

"Someone suggested a huge bonfire to roast the hens, and she stormed off. She's still convinced someone is trying to spread the bird flu through the Mill. You okay?" he asked me, looking closely at my eyes. "Rough night?"

Rougher morning, I thought, but I simply nodded.

He put his arm around me, tucked me close to his body. I felt like I could stay there the rest of the week.

Mr. Cabrera wandered over, throwing his hands in the air. "That Maisie is a loony toon!"

"Donatelli!" Brickhouse admonished.

"What?" he asked. "It's true."

"Be that as it may, be nice."

I smiled. They were good for each other.

"I don't know what people are complainin' about," he grumbled. "You'd think they'd be grateful for somethin' to put on their dinner table. Those hens aren't cheap." He caught my eye. "Miz Quinn, you don't look so good. You catch that flu?"

I made a mental note to apply more makeup once I went back inside. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"The boy?"

"Going to the doctor in a little bit."

"Good, good. That doc of his will fix him up good."

My mind played mental association. Mr. Cabrera mentioning the doctor reminded me of Ana's dalliance with Johan, Dr. Feelgood, which reminded me that I hadn't been able to get hold of my cousin that morning. "Thanks for picking up Ana yesterday," I said.

"No problem, Miz Quinn. Miz Ana is a hot ticket."

Brickhouse elbowed him.

"Not as hot as you," he said to her.

I felt Bobby's chest vibrate as he laughed.

"Did she get home okay?" I asked.

"You sayin' somethin' about my drivin'?" Mr. Cabrera looked put out.

"Not at all. I just haven't been able to reach her this morning."

"I dropped her off at her front door. She didn't want me to come up. I waited till she got in, then drove off."

Something just didn't feel right. Ana might have been mad at me, but she'd still want to help Kit. I made a mental note to call her again once I reapplied more makeup. Priorities.

An SPCA truck pulled up to the crowd, and right behind it, Joe and Lewy's dark Ford pulled into my driveway. They got out, zeroed in on me immediately, their faces grim.

"What now?" I asked aloud.

Brickhouse clucked. I noticed she loosened BeBe's leash just enough so BeBe could launch herself at someone if need be.

Honestly, I thought I must have been sick or something, because Brickhouse was definitely growing on me.

Kevin strode over when he saw Joe and Lewy approaching. He wouldn't look at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked the detectives once they were close enough. "It's not Kit, is it? Is he okay?"

"No idea," Joe said.

Then I couldn't imagine what would warrant such long faces.

"You've got news?" Kevin asked.

"There's been another murder," Lewy said.

My stomach fell. Bobby tightened his arm around me.

"Who?" Kevin asked.

"Kent Ingless. He was found shot at close range early this morning."

"I can't say I'm glad to see him gone," Brickhouse said an hour later.

BeBe had gone upstairs, where she now slept at the foot of Riley's bed.

I set the kettle on the stove. "Me either, but you know they'll think Kit did it."

I peeked in the fridge. Nearly empty. Great.

Thanksgiving was in two days, and I didn't even have a turkey yet. Some impression I was going to make on Bobby's family.

I pulled out a box of stale Nilla Wafers from the cupboard and set them on the counter. Desperate times and all.

Apparently I had issues with cutting back on Brickhouse time, because it had been me who invited her in for tea. There weren't enough corners in my head to tuck away that information.

My father, looking well-rested, had dropped a car off for my mother. Mr. Cabrera had volunteered to drive him home, since for some reason Dad didn't feel like hanging out with us.

Hmm. Empty house, full fridge, peace and quiet.

Couldn't imagine why he chose to go home.

My mother had taken Kevin to his doctor's appointment

downtown, promising me in a hushed whisper to get the full scoop on Kevin and Ginger's breakup.

Bobby was off fixing another leak of Mrs. Daasch's, and I was beginning to suspect she was breaking things on purpose.

Ana still wasn't answering her phone. Part of me wondered if she'd met a man on the plane and made other plans.

But then the reality sank in. She was honestly worried about Kit. So where was she?

"With Kent dead," I said, "there goes my prime suspect."

"Ach. Mine too."

I filled her in about Randall Oh. "He did give me a fake number, so obviously he's trying to avoid me. Why?"

"Because you're annoying?"

"And here I was sharing my Nilla Wafers with you."

"Ach. They're stale."

I grit my teeth and returned to the conversation. "Maybe Randall is the killer. Maybe he killed Daisy because he's selling drugs too, and wanted the business all for himself."

"Then why kill Mr. Creepy if he was the supplier?"

"Okay, maybe Randall killed Daisy because he knew Daisy was dealing and it hurt his reputation? Killing Creepy Kent then makes sense, if Randall wanted to eliminate all the drug influences surrounding Heavenly Hope."

"Did you tell the detectives these theories?"

The teapot whistled. I poured water into two mugs. Cocoa for me, tea for Brickhouse. "Actually, I did."

"And?"

"They laughed."

She clucked.

"But they did promise to look into Randall."

Not that I had any faith whatsoever they would. I added a heaping mound of whipped cream to my cocoa, and Brickhouse added a touch of milk to her tea.

We sipped in silence until the doorbell rang. I heard ex cited barking from upstairs, then silence. Riley seemed to have a magic touch with BeBe that I lacked.

Peeking out the front window, my eyes widened. I pulled open the door.

"Hello, Nina."

"Mrs. Greeble. Come in."

Pain creased her features with each of her steps. I automatically took her arm, led her to the kitchen and into a chair at the table. "Would you like some tea?"

She shook her head.

"Coffee?"

Again, no.

"Cocoa?"

Her watery eyes lit. "That would be lovely."

Her cheeks drooped and her skin had a yellowish, unhealthy undertone.

Bobby was right. She didn't look well.

"I came," she said, "to see how Riley was feeling."

Brickhouse levered herself off the counter stool and sat across from Mrs. Greeble at the table. "Not so good," she said.

"Certainly not the bird flu, as Maisie is telling everyone?"

"No," I said. "Just some sort of flu."

She nodded.

The teapot whistled quickly, the water still fairly hot. I made a cup of hot chocolate, without the whipped cream, per Mrs. Greeble's request.

"I was going to come see you today," I said, sitting next to her. I wrapped my hands around my warm mug.

"I'm not surprised. Frankly, I expected a visit sooner. Gossip spreads so quickly in this neighborhood."

Her eyes held a spark of intelligence. She arched a thin white eyebrow at me, telling me quite plainly that she knew I knew.

"You did a good job of keeping your hobby quiet. Mr. Cabrera doesn't know about it, and you know he's the one who spreads the news."

She spared a glance at Brickhouse. "I'm sure he knows now."

"Ach. I didn't tell him. It would hurt his pride if I learned something before him."

Mrs. Greeble smiled weakly and sipped her cocoa.

I pulled my legs onto the chair, tucked them under me. "Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Money, Nina. It's as simple as that. I needed some." She drew in a shaky breath, set her mug on the table. "You may have noticed I'm not in the greatest of health. Bills mount. I should have sold my house long ago. Now it needs many repairs before I can sell, and I need money for the repairs. Winter is coming, my furnace is on the fritz, the windows are single-paned, and my roof leaks."

It was a familiar story in the Mill. Most pensions were pitiful, social security barely enough to pay bills. There was little or nothing for the extras.

"I don't have long to live," she said matter-of-factly.

My breath caught.

Brickhouse put her mug down, leaned in.

"Don't feel sorry for me," Mrs. Greeble said. "I've lived a good life. A long one."

"Do you have children?" Brickhouse asked her.

"Never blessed. There's no one left but me."

My heart hurt for her. I wished I had an iota of her dignity when old and faced with the knowledge that I would die soon.

"My hope with the poker was to raise enough money to move to an assisted living home. Nobody likes to ask for handouts. I really don't want to be a burden to my family."

"But you said—" I began.

Thin lips pulled into a smile. "This neighborhood is my family. Riley, you, Donatelli, Flash, even Maisie, though she's a pain in the ass."

I smiled. She really was.

"To me, a family is made up of people who love and care and nurture each other, it's not always blood that bind people together. Be that as it may, everyone has their own burdens. They don't need mine to add to them."

"You know we don't—"

She held up a bony hand. "It's the way I wanted it. However, it's not the way it's to be. I need to put an end to my 'hobby,' as you call it. I'm too ill to take proper care of things. The dealer I hired has been stealing from me."