Authors: Heather Webber

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Mystery & Detective, #General

Digging Up Trouble (10 page)

BOOK: Digging Up Trouble

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"Taken by Surprise, this is Nina Quinn."

"You're too busy to be answering the phone."

Tam. I smiled.

"You really need to find a fill-in for me."

"I know."

"Let me call a few people. I'll have them there Monday at ten a.m."

"Okay."

"Wait. Check the schedule. Make sure you don't have anything going on."

I checked the schedule, feeling a little bit like a kid being told what to do.

"Nothing," I said.

"I'll take care of it."

"You really should be resting."

"All I do is rest."

She had a point.

"How'd the visit to the dead guy's wife go?"

I hedged.

"I told you so," she said.

I heard corroborating clucking in the background and groaned. "I gotta go," I said.

"Liar."

" 'Bye!"

I hung up, switched on the voice-mail system, and tried to get some work done.

Ten

"Do you want to have kids?"

I choked on my coconut ice cream, spitting some out, which was a shame because it was re
ally
good.

Bobby patted my back, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Sorry," he said. "Just trying to get your attention."

We were at StarBright, an old-fashioned drive-in movie theater. A speaker box was hooked over Bobby's halflowered window as
Star Wars
—the original—played on the big screen.

"Well, you've got it now." I wiped a speck of coconut from the dashboard.

I'd been a crappy date. So lost in thoughts over lawsuits and blackmailers I hadn't paid Bobby any attention at all. I was wasting prime drive-in make-out time.

"You thinking about that dead guy?"

Sadly, I stared at what was left of my little cup of ice cream. I'd lost my appetite. "Yeah."

"Everything will work out."

"Wish I could believe that."

I must have sounded pathetic because he rubbed a knuckle over my cheek, leaned in and kissed me. I tried to move closer to him, but he drove a Celica that had bucket seats and one of the boxes in the middle that was a car's equivalent of a kitchen junk drawer. Whatever happened to good oldfashioned bench seats? Did some sort of abstinence group have them outlawed?

A car honked next to us, followed by a series of "Woohoo, Mr. MacKenna."

I'm sure I was blushing, but glad it was dark so the teens in the car next to us couldn't see.

Bobby wiped his lips, gave a little wave to the group. "Students," he said.

"I figured."

"Maybe we should go somewhere private?" he asked, a husky tone to his voice.

Panic swelled. This. Was. It.

Could I really do it?

It wasn't as though I didn't like Bobby. I really did. And it wasn't as though my body wasn't begging for me to say okay. It was.

I just . . .

"You're thinking too much," Bobby said, leaning in to kiss me again.

More honking ensued from the car next to us, but I couldn't have cared less. Bobby either, apparently, because he didn't pull back right away.

When he finally did, he looked at me, saying nothing.

I tried to catch my breath, and finally said, "Private is good."

He fairly chucked the speaker box out the window, started the car, throwing it into reverse. The kids next to us cheered.

"Riley's not home, right?"

My libido was doing a happy dance. "He's not home." He spent most weekends with Kevin.

Kevin.

No, no, no! Don't think about him,
I told myself.

Over and over again.

Because apparently it was the only thing I
could
think about right now. I needed distraction. Immediately.

I reached over, took Bobby's hand as he sped through the streets. "So," I said, picking up his line of questioning, "do you want kids?"

He didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"How many?"

"At least four."

"Four!" All right. This might not have been the best dis traction.

He laughed. "You should see your face."

I could imagine.

"I want a big family." He rubbed a finger along the palm of my hand, sending delicious shivers up my arm.

"Oh."

"You never did answer me, by the way."

"What? When?"

"Do
you w
ant kids?"

This was probably one of those conversations all people should have at some point in their relationship, but now, on the way to do what we were going to do, I didn't think it was the best time.

"Nina?" He sounded worried. "You don't want kids at all?"

"No, I do. I do. I don't know about four, but I do want kids. Someday."

He glanced at me. "Someday?"

"Someday." I didn't know when. How did a person know when?

In the streetlight, I could see him nod. "I suppose we should just get it all out."

"All?"

"Everything."

"Like?" I asked, wishing my ice cream wasn't a puddle in a cup on the floorboard. I could use some fortification right now.

"How do you feel about marriage?"

I groaned.

"Well, that answers that."

"Don't get me wrong. I think I could marry again . . ."

"Someday."

"Exactly."

I noticed his finger had stopped rubbing my palm.

"What about relocating?" he asked.

"Relocating? Where?"

"Anywhere."

Moving? I just couldn't see it. This is where my family was. As dysfunctional as they were, I loved them and couldn't imagine not being near them. And work . . . Tam, Kit.

And Riley.

"I don't think so."

I wondered at the turn in the conversation. A rather large part of me wished we were back at the drive-in, making out.

Hating the silence, I struggled to find something to say to ease the sudden tension.

And couldn't find one thing.

Mostly because my thoughts kept turning back to Russ Grabinsky. I was debating whether or not I should call Kevin about the man who threatened Greta.

Then I kept thinking that I should just stay out of it.

But . . . The man from Greta's kitchen had had a very identifiable wedding ring. If I could just find him . . .

No, no, no,
my inner voice chanted.

And what about Bill and Lindsey? Why had they hired me if the lawsuit against the Grabinskys had been dropped? Had they really not known? Was it even true?

Then it hit me. The lawsuit. The man in Greta's kitchen had said he'd had it dropped. All I needed to do was find out who'd been behind it. Then I'd know who threatened Greta. And who had motive to kill Russ.

If Russ had been murdered.

That was a big if.

Though the more I learned about Russ Grabinsky, the more I wondered why he hadn't been bumped off before now.

". . . feel about being a stay-at-home mom?"

My head snapped up as I caught the tail end of what Bobby had been saying.

He laughed.

"Sorry," I said.

"The lawsuit?" he asked as he turned onto my street. "I called Josh but he hasn't gotten back to me yet."

Josh. His cousin, the lawyer. Who I prayed could get me out of this mess. "I can't help it," I said.

The Mill was relatively silent. I noticed that Mr. Cabrera's house was dark, but his big red Pontiac, aka the Beast, was parked in his driveway.

My gaze automatically skipped to Boom-Boom's house, where it was also dark. I wondered what was going on between the two of them, if anything. After all, Mr. Cabrera had been kissing Brickhouse just that morning.

However, I wouldn't put two-timing past him.

Bobby cut the engine, turned to me. "Well, I think I know how to get you to stop thinking all together."

My mouth went dry. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Let's go in."

I walked up the front steps. Okay, so I ran up them. Big

deal. As I dug around in my backpack for my keys, Bobby wrapped his arms around me, kissed my neck.

Keys, keys, keys,
I repeated to myself, trying to concentrate.

I tipped my head up, bit my lip when he found a sensitive spot under my ear. And froze.

"What?" Bobby asked, looking around.

"My lights are on inside."

"And?"

"I haven't been home since this morning. I didn't leave them on."

"Maybe Riley?"

"He's at Kevin's."

"Maybe he came home early?" he asked, then mumbled something about bad luck.

"Kevin would have called."

"Maybe we should call the police?"

As I debated this, my front door flung open. "
Chérie!
You're home!"

I stared in disbelief. "Mom?"

"Is she finally here?" I heard.

My eyes widened. "Maria?"

"Bobby!" My mother air-kissed his cheeks.

My sister Maria did the same.

"What are you two doing here?" I asked, still staring.

"A surprise makeover! Surprise! We parked down the block and everything!"

"Wh-What?" I mumbled.

"For your house. Really, Nina, it was so outdated," Maria said. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a fancy chignon, and only she could look gorgeous in a pair of overalls. Paint splattered the front of them.

Orange paint.

Oh dear God. She was painting something orange.

In my house.

I had to stop her.

Just as I opened my mouth, my mother said, "Now, now,
chérie
. I know this must be overwhelming, but it must be done. No arguing."

"But—"

My mother stood firm. "No buts. Knickers and knots, Nina. Knickers and knots."

"Want to rethink relocating?" Bobby joked from behind me.

I turned and gave him the Ceceri Evil Eye. It had no effect whatsoever, which told me a lot. Men not affected by the Ceceri Evil Eye were keepers.

The forever after kind of keepers.

I swallowed hard.

"Where's Dad?" I asked.

My mother waved a manicured hand, tucked a loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "Off doing whatever he does on Saturday nights."

"You don't know what he does?"

She waved off my concern. "Some club or another. Historians Unite, or some such."

Ohh-kay. I looked to Maria. "Where's Nate?"

"Boys' weekend. They're fishing," she said with a grossedout look. No wonder she hadn't been asked along. "Took the dog with him, thank God."

Gracie, a Chihuahua, was as high maintenance as my sister.

Bobby leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. Oh yeah. Now I remembered why we were in a rush to get here. "We could go to my place."

My mother's eyes lit. "His place!" She turned to Maria. "Did you hear that? His place!"

I closed my eyes, wishing I had relocated a long time ago.

"It's about time," Maria said to me. "Maybe you'll stop being so testy."

I stepped forward, fists clenched. "I'll show you testy."

Bobby grabbed my arm.

"Snappy too," Maria added.

I heard Bobby sigh. I knew the feeling. I turned to face him. "I think I maybe need to stay here tonight."

He smiled. God, I loved his smile. "It's okay."

"No, it's not!" my mother said. "Go with him. Go! Go!"

What did it say about my life that my mother was prodding me to go home with a man?

"Orange," I said to Bobby under my breath, by way of explanation.

"Come on," he said. "Walk me to my car."

He opened the Celica's door, gave me a hug, held me close.

As we stood there, a whirring noise caught my attention. I looked up just in time to see a golf cart whizzing down the street, Boom-Boom at the wheel, Mr. Cabrera next to her.

Brickhouse was going to kill him.

Boom-Boom beeped and waved at us as she swerved into her driveway.

"If you change your mind . . ." Bobby said, leaving the offer dangling.

"I'll call."

He gave me a quick kiss, ducked into the car. The engine purred to life. "Nina," he said.

"Hmm?"

"We really do need to talk," he said.

My heart backpedaled.

Talk? Talk was never good.

"Why? About what?"

His eyebrows dipped. "I've got something important to ask you."

"Me?" Oh. My. God. He had something to
ask
me?

"Yes you."

"Oh." Panic set in. My stomach churned.

"Maybe tomorrow?"

I nodded and closed the door. He waved as he backed out of the driveway. I watched him drive away, then turned toward my house.

Orange.

Ugh.

Instead of going in, I headed straight into my backyard, cut through it, and took refuge in Mr. Cabrera's gazebo. I fished in my backpack for my cell phone.

"Help," I said to Ana when she answered. "I need to be rescued."

"How do you know I'm not on a date?"

"Are you on a date?"

"No. S and I had a falling out."

"About?"

"His name. Besides, he never liked my mother, anyway."

"That's when she was going to be living with you. If I were him, I wouldn't like that either." My aunt Rosa had recently changed her mind about moving to town and living with Ana. Ana hadn't quite decided whether she was relieved or hurt by the decision, even though she really hadn't wanted her mother living with her.

I sympathized.

"Whose side are you on?" she asked.

"There's no sides! I'm just saying. Look, you can tell me all about it when you pick me up."

"You have perfect timing, Nina. I'm about to go on a mission. I'll be there in ten minutes. And I'm bringing the wigs."

BOOK: Digging Up Trouble

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