A Family Affair

by Shannon VanBergen

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Fine, don’t tell me. But I’ll figure it out before we leave.”

  Ten minutes later, Amber and my mom were escorted out of Grandma’s apartment. I waited until they had left the parking lot before I called Grandma.

  “Hey,” I said when she answered. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great! I get to go home tomorrow. I’m ready!”

  “I bet you are. I’m ready to have you home.”

  She asked about Kitty Purry and Catalie Portman—were they eating, sleeping, and was I changing Kitty Purry’s clothes? I assured her they were well taken care of.

  “So, one of the reasons I’m calling is because I was wondering if I could look at the scrapbook you kept full of news articles about Ricky’s death.”

  Grandma Dean was quiet a moment. “I’ll find it tomorrow when I get home.”

  “Can’t you just tell me where it is now?” I asked. “The others are hoping I can find it and check on something.”

  She asked why we needed it, and I told her about the tattoo. She sighed. “All right. It’s under my bed. But listen to me, there are other albums under there and I just want you to leave them alone okay? Ricky’s is the green one.”

  I wondered what could be in the others that she didn’t want me to see.

  We talked for a few more minutes and then said our good-byes. I made my way into Grandma’s room and knelt to look under her bed. There were a few photo albums, but I couldn’t tell what color they were without pulling them all out from under the bed. When I pulled them out, I saw that there were two pale blue ones and one pale green one. I reached for the green one, but my curiosity got the better of me. I picked up a blue one instead.

  I opened it and saw a picture of Grandma Dean when she was in her late teens. She was beautiful. They must have been taken before she became famous in Europe because she wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup. She looked plain and simple, and happy. I flipped the page, not understanding why she wouldn’t want me to look through these. There were pictures of her with her mother and father and photos of her by herself walking on a pier. I turned another page and my breath caught. There she was with the guy I had seen in a picture a few months ago. The guy I believed to be my mom’s real dad. The guy none of us had ever met. He and my mother shared so many features, I was sure he was her father. There was page after page of him and Grandma Dean together. I pored over each one. But then I heard a noise. I sat up straight, listening. Was it the cats? Not unless they learned to open and close doors. Someone was in the house.

  I was already sitting on the floor, but I crouched down even further and tried to look around the end of the bed to see if I could see anyone standing in the hall. As I turned to look, I heard a man’s voice. I froze.

  “Nikki, what are you doing?”

  I looked up to see Bo standing over me.

  I grabbed my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

  He sat down next to me. “Sorry. What are you doing down here?”

  I turned the photo album around to show him. “I was looking at these old pictures. I think this is my mom’s real dad.”

  Bo looked at the page and then turned to the next one. “She looks just like him. Has she seen these?”

  Sighing, I closed the book. “No, Grandma Dean doesn’t even want me to see them.” I slipped the two blue photo albums back under the bed and then wondered what I should do with the green one. Could I tuck it under my arm and nonchalantly take it to my room? Probably not. I decided to slide it back under the bed too.

  I looked up at Bo. “What are you doing here?” I asked quietly.

  He looked me in the eyes. “I saw everyone leaving for dinner and I noticed you weren’t with them. I thought I’d come over and make sure you’re all right.”

  “You didn’t want to go?” I asked.

  He laughed. “I needed a break from Hattie. I don’t know which is worse: the amount of work she’s had me do or the fact that she watches me while I do it.”

  I cringed. “I’m sorry about her. Actually, I’m sorry about everything.”

  He was quiet for a minute. “So, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. “Like how I’m feeling about you and Joe?”

  “No, like why you were dressed like you were earlier while walking a cat and now why you’re hiding down here looking through photo albums.”

  I didn’t answer him, instead I just stared at the ground.

  “Come on, Nikki, I know something’s up. I know you pretty well, remember.”

  My heart twisted in pain. He did know me well. I looked up at him. His blue eyes and strong jaw took my breath away. I had kept so many secrets from him since I moved to Florida. I didn’t want to keep any more.

  “I’m trying to solve a murder.”

  He looked annoyed at first, then he laughed, then he looked confused. “Wait, are you being serious?”

  I pulled out the green album and carefully flipped it open. There was a picture of Ricky on the front page of a newspaper article. I took it out and handed it to Bo.

  “This is Ricky. He was killed three years ago, but his killer was never caught.”

  Bo read the article then put it back in the scrapbook. “Nikki, this is insane.”

  I sighed. “I know. But believe it or not, this is actually the third case I’ve worked on.”

  “And you do this by yourself?” he asked.

  I laughed. “No, those crazy old ladies are called the Glock Grannies. They started this group after Ricky died and they’ve been solving crimes ever since. Except for this one.”

  “Glocks as in guns?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “And they’re all in on it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Even the crazy one I’m staying with?”

  “All of them. Betty isn’t a regular, though. She was just called in to help while Grandma Dean is in the hospital.”

  Bo was quiet as he processed all this new information. “So, when I saw you today, you were undercover or something?”

  “Of course,” I said, pretending I planned on looking exactly as he had seen me, and it wasn’t because I was bad at putting on makeup or the fact that it melted off in the heat.

  “That’s actually pretty cool,” he said quietly. “I never thought you’d do something like that.”

  I laughed. “Neither did I.”

  He looked confused for a minute. “So why are you down here on the floor again?”

  I gave him a quick rundown of the case and explained the new information about the tattoos. When I was finished, we flipped through the book looking at pictures and reading articles until we found something about the tattoo.

  “Here’s a picture of it,” he said, grimacing. “It’s a crime scene photo. That’s disturbing. How did your grandma even get this picture?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, taking it from him.

  The picture looked just like the one Virginia had taken, but there was only one way to find out for sure. I had to compare photos. Thankfully, she had sent me hers in a text.

  “Here, hold this,” I said, handing back the photo. I looked through my phone until I found the one I wanted. I held it up to the photo in Bo’s hand.

  “Oh my gosh, Nikki!” Bo yelled out. “Is that a picture of the dead guy on your phone?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. Was that not normal?

  I looked at the pictures side by side. They were the same. Clear down to the circle in the center of the spade.

  “They match,” I said. “That proves it wasn’t gang-related. Or at least not our local gang.”

  “It also proves that whoever tattooed Ricky also tattooed the second guy,” Bo said matter-of-factly.

  “Wait, what?” I looked at the pictures. Bo was right. Why didn’t we think of that? Who did Bobby get to tattoo the spade on Jason?

  “I have to call the Grannies,” I said, standing. I was suddenly fil
led with a nervous energy as I dialed Virginia’s number.

  When she answered, I was practically shaking. “Virginia, did any of us think to ask Bobby who gave Jason the tattoo?”

  “Umm, I don’t think so why?”

  I explained it to her, and she became excited too. “So, we just need to ask Bobby who tattooed Jason and we have our killer!”

  “Wait a minute,” Bo said from the floor. “You said this was a circle in the middle of the spade, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, looking down at him.

  He squinted as he held the picture to his face to get a closer look. “I don’t think that’s a circle. I think it’s the letter C. Do you think this is their calling card? Maybe they signed the tattoo?”

  I told Virginia what Bo said. “Who do we know that starts with a C?” I asked.

  Her and I spoke at the same time. “Carson!”

  “Oh my gosh,” I said, flopping onto Grandma Dean’s bed. “Carson really is our killer!”

  “We need to go talk to him,” Virginia said. “I’ll go back to the table and try to hurry things along. As soon as we’re done eating, we’ll drop off your family and pick you up and head over to his house.”

  With our plans made, we hung up. I turned to Bo and told him what was going on.

  “I’m coming too, right?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Bo, I don’t want you to get involved in this.”

  He closed the scrapbook and stood up. “I’m already involved. Look, Nikki, even though I’m upset about what you did, I still care about you. And I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Okay,” I said, the guilt flooding my heart again. He was such a good guy.

  We stood there silently for a minute. “So, do we need to talk about things?” I finally asked.

  He looked sad. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  I don’t know why I asked the next question, but for some reason, I needed to know. “Are you going to start dating right away?”

  “No. I can’t even imagine that right now.”

  I thought maybe he’d ask me the same, but instead he asked me a different question. “Did you sleep with him?”

  His question caught me off guard, but I answered it. “No,” I said honestly. “We came close a couple of times, but…”

  Bo put his hand up to stop me. “I don’t need to know details. I just wanted to know if you slept with him.”

  “Okay,” I said quietly. I sighed. “Stay here a minute.”

  I walked into my room and pulled open the drawer where I kept my engagement ring. I walked back over to him and placed it in the palm of his hand. He looked at it for a second before closing his eyes and squeezing his hand closed. I stood back and watched him, a lump so big in my throat it was hard to breathe. It was hard to watch him suffer, and harder still to know it was because of me.

  He opened his eyes and they were glossy. He slipped the ring in his pocket, and I wanted to kiss him one last time. I didn’t deserve to have the chance, but I asked him anyway. He looked at me for a second, then took a step toward me. Was this some kind of joke? Was he going to act like he was going to kiss me then pull away at the last second, leaving me to feel like a fool?

  I stood still while I waited to see what his next move would be. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. He took another step toward me and then a smaller one to close the gap. Our bodies were touching for the first time since that morning a few months ago when I kissed him good-bye. Now I felt like he was kissing me good-bye.

  I felt his breath on my face, and he put his forehead against mine, our noses softly touching. The air escaped my lungs when he put his hand at the small of my back and gently pressed my body into his. His other hand went behind my head and he tangled it in my hair. He looked me in the eyes, and I felt his pain.

  He gripped my hair and pulled my head back. All I could do was close my eyes. I felt his head move down and his soft lips graze my collar bone. A shiver ran up my spine. He kissed my neck, starting at the bottom and working his way up. Every kiss was gentle, slow.

  He worked his way up to my chin and paused. His lips hovered over mine. His grip on my hair and waist tightened, and his breath became ragged. I wanted to open my eyes and look into his. I wanted to watch him kiss me, but I was afraid. I didn’t want to do anything that would disrupt this moment.

  I held still as he moved his lips across my cheeks, skimming over my lips as he went to the other side. Suddenly the memory of all the times we had been intimate filled my mind. He was always slow, always methodical. Never in a rush. He was the same now as he’d always been. My heart began to ache as I realized this kiss would be our last.

  Even though I tried to hold it back, a tear slid down my face. He let go of my hair just enough to reach around with his thumb and wipe it away. I held my eyes closed as tight as I could to keep more from falling.

  “Look at me,” he whispered, but I refused. “Look at me,” he said again.

  I opened my eyes, and the tears flowed. He looked deep into my eyes and ran his thumb over my lips. They parted. He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, wrapping his fingers in my hair. He deepened the kiss, and I reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him closer. I closed my eyes again just as he did. His kiss was no longer gentle, instead it was greedy, wanting to take as much as he get could in the moment. If we had been back home in Illinois, I would know what was coming next. How he would lay me down and love every part of my body. But here, in this moment in Florida, I knew this was fleeting. I took in everything he gave me, my breath just as heavy as his, and then, just like that, it was over.

  He pulled away and we stood there staring at each other, both out of breath. The minutes passed and yet we didn’t move. Neither one wanting to break the spell that had come over us, both knowing that when we moved, when we walked away, there was no coming back.

  The buzzing from my phone jarred us both from our stillness. I glanced down at it, sitting on Grandma Dean’s bed. It was a text from Virginia. They were on their way. The moment was over.

  31

  How could I explain to my mom that I was leaving with the Grannies without it looking suspicious? Before they got there, Bo and I came up with a plan. I would text my mom and tell her Bo and I were heading out to talk. We’d hide out in the parking lot until the Grannies dropped them off and went in the house. Then we’d all ride together to Carson’s house. I texted the plan to the Grannies and then texted my mom. She was thrilled that Bo and I were talking. “Take your time,” she texted me. “Those crazy old ladies rushed us through our meal. We brought half of it home because they didn’t give us time to eat.”

  Before we went outside, I looked up Carson’s address and sent it to the Grannies. We were all set. Now we just had to wait for our ride.

  We weren’t in the parking lot long when the Grannies pulled up. We watched my mom and Amber go up to the apartment with their to-go containers and disappear inside. Bo and I ran over to Virginia’s vehicle and just as I was getting in, I glanced up and saw Amber staring at me through the kitchen window. I laughed to myself thinking how confused she must be. I couldn’t help but think she was standing there, thinking over my earlier words about solving murders. She was probably freaking out inside, and it made me chuckle.

  “You’re a genius!” the Grannies said to Bo as he climbed in the back with me.

  He smiled. He wasn’t used to this much attention, but he clearly enjoyed it.

  It didn’t take long for us to pull up in front of Carson’s house. Virginia turned around from the driver’s seat and looked at us. “Nikki, you and Bo take the back door. Irene and Hattie, you can take the front. I’ll be our getaway driver as usual should anything bad go down.”

  “And I’ll be ready to call 911,” Greta said proudly. We needed to get her a title for her job, something exciting.

  I went to reach for my phone that I always threw in the cup holder, but it wasn’t there. Dang
it. I must have left it at home. As we climbed out, I told the Grannies I didn’t have my phone so they’d have to text Bo if something happened. After quickly giving them his number, Bo and I were off, slinking to the back of the house.

  “So, what happens if he answers the door?” Bo whispered.

  I shrugged. “We talk to him for a minute, see if we can get him to admit anything. Then if there’s trouble, you text the Grannies.”

  He was stunned. “That’s it? That’s your plan? We go in and talk to a killer?”

  “Shhh,” I warned him as we came up to the back door. Immediately, something didn’t seem right. The screen on the door was pulled back and the heavy door behind it was opened a crack.

  “I don’t like this, Nikki,” Bo whispered. I didn’t like it either.

  The screen door creaked as I opened it, and I could see right away the paint and pieces of wood that were scraped away by the lock. Someone had broken in.

  Bo’s phone buzzed. It was Irene. “Front is all locked up. Nothing interesting up here. How’s it going in the back?”

  “Tell her there’s sign of forced entry and we’re going in.”

  Bo looked at me like I was crazy. “Do it!” I whispered.

  “This is nuts,” Bo said under his breath as he typed.

  I slowly opened the door and peeked inside. It opened into a living area and the light was on. I glanced around and didn’t see anyone, so I opened the door further and stepped in. The room was a mess. It was hard to tell if there had been a struggle or if Carson was just messy. But then I saw it: an overturned lamp in the corner.

  I walked over to get a closer look. “Bo, come look at this,” I whispered. He didn’t budge from his spot in the doorway. “I thought you were here to protect me,” I said slyly. He swallowed hard. His courage seemed to come back to him a little and he walked over. “That’s blood, isn’t it?” I asked, pointing to some spatter on the wall.

  “We have to go to the police,” he said, grabbing my arm.

  “Not until we figure this out,” I said, trying to calm him.

  Bo’s phone buzzed again, and it scared him enough that he jumped. It was another text from Irene. “Get out of there. I think someone’s on to us. A car has gone around the block twice now.”