Idiot!
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
The self-beratement would continue for as long as she had breath. But if this guy thought he could push her around, he was so freakin’ mistaken. The Powells might have sprung from humble beginnings, but they were not to be trifled with. And it was his turn to find out just how tough a Powell could be.
CHAPTER 12
“MOM-MEE!” she blubbered as she grabbed her mother around the shoulders and wailed. “He hates me!”
“My baby!” was the tremulous reply.
Sam had put off this moment by sidestepping her mother’s calls. While she’d sent numerous texts containing assurances that everything was fine, it was her mother Grace’s appearance on her doorstep that allowed the truth to slip out.
And it was all Detective Death’s fault!
He’d been the anaconda dropping down from the leafy canopy of the jungle and squeezing the life out of her. She couldn’t live her life under his scrutiny and contempt.
Taz meandered over, rubbing against Sam’s leg and leaving a trail of tri-colored hairs on the black pants leg.
“That cat is really attuned to you, honey. If you’re upset, he’s there comforting you. It’s amazing, since he hates everyone else.”
“That’s not true,” she sniffled as Taz arched his back and hissed at the interloper to his territory. “He’s just nervous,” she defended as he took a swipe at one of Grace’s legs. “If he were serious, he wouldn’t have missed,” Sam excused as she took hold of the doorknob to shut the front door. Her earlier trauma came rushing back, prompting her to step outside and take a quick look around.
No police cars—marked or au naturale.
“But about this detective …” her mother asked, picking up where the partial confession had begun over the phone left off. “Are you sure, baby? It doesn’t seem as if he’d focus on you. You had no reason to kill Doris, did you?”
Sam winced, stopping in place and whipping her head around. The ends of the two braids feather dusted her cheek, reminding her they were there. She’d plaited her hair to go for a run and forgotten she’d resorted to the hairstyle worn in second grade. Taz trotted over, begging to be scooped up in her arms.
She willingly obliged.
The magic purring commenced, as did the ceremonial covering of everything she owned in a layer of fur.
“No, I did not have a motive,” she pushed through clenched white teeth.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, baby,” Grace explained, laying a comforting hand on her daughter’s back. Taz took offense and objected to the unauthorized manhandling by swatting the unprotected skin.
While Grace checked her hand for wounds, Sam plunked down on the couch, sprawling out her lanky frame in a man spread, looking up at the woman she resembled. Her mother was responsible for her coloring and facial structure, but her dad Cade was the catalyst for her being thin.
Neither could gain an ounce.
But did it really matter whether a skinny or fat ass were about to be thrown in jail?
Not to Sam it didn’t.
“I think you’ve got it wrong, Sammi,” Grace countered as she sat on the couch next to her daughter. An unearthly growl made her scoot out of striking distance.
“He was abused,” Sam mumbled, repeating the usual explanation for her feline’s hostile behavior.
“But you’ve had him for ten years.”
Where were people getting that impression?
“Three-and-a-half years. I’ve had him three-and-a-half years, and the first two were formative.”
“Are you sure, Sammi?”
“Of course I’m sure. He’s only four, aren’t you, Mr. Cuddles?” she said, switching to the baby talk she always used in conversing with her furry companion. “At least that’s the vet’s best guesstimate.”
The feline that had been on the verge of a full-on assault turned to mush in his hoomanz’ arms.
Grace scratched at her brow with her pinky.
“Back to Detective Jettings—”
“Jennings,” Sam corrected.
“Detective Jennings,” the woman dressed in the palest pearl gray repeated. “That conversation you overheard might have been a throwaway.”
“A throwaway?”
“Yes. The kind everyone has. The kind where you vent and say silly things that aren’t meant for anyone to hear. You remember. They’re the kind you used to have when you had friends, dear.”
Her fingers kept scratching the spot right behind the tufted left ear. The cat’s head leaned back and into it. The little pink tongue followed, poking out of the mouth fringed by the cutest vampire fangs.
“I still have friends,” she defended.
“My, you really are on edge!” her mother said, shaking her head. “I meant when you were in high school. Your phone never stopped ringing and you talked up a storm. You used to have throwaway discussions all the time. You will admit that things have changed, no?”
The kind face was there. The face that sat up with her all night when she was sick, and that comforted her in ninth grade.
Before Lyddie averted a catastrophe.
A smile emerged.
“Yes, Mom. I understand now. I’m sorry for taking this out on you. I’m just so … so—”
“Frustrated?”
She nodded quickly, the tears again bubbling up in her eyes and threatening to blow like Old Faithful.
“I-it wasn’t just the conversation … he followed me! And called me Nancy Drew!” she blurted, breaking down and hugging Mr. Cuddles to her chest. She buried her face in the thick longish fur, but a few loose strands went up her nose, causing a coughing fit.
Just what she needed.
Grace rushed to get Sam a glass of cold water. Her attempt to hand it to her was thwarted by a pawful of claws.
“It’s okay, Tazzy-Wazzy,” Sam soothed in a sing-song voice. She leaned forward, grasping the offering and gulping it down. “Thanks,” she said while setting the drained tumbler to the side.
“So you say this Jennings followed you?”
“Yes.”
“And said you were a suspect?”
“Yes!”
“It is a very strange thing for him to admit.”
An errant comment.
And her mother had that look. The one she got when she doubted what had been said. Sam ran through the conversation she heard in the parking lot in her mind.
Jeez!
He did say it …
He did!
She might not be able to recall the exact words, but there was a witness. Detective Siberian Winter had been there.
“Yes, he said it and it’s my neck he’s after,” she responded.
Her mother shuddered, trying unsuccessfully to put her hand on her child’s knee. Taz aka Mr. Cuddles was there to prevent the mauling.
Ever vigilant, he wriggled out of Sam’s arms and stationed himself in between mother and daughter just in case another attack was planned by the woman in gray who visited way too often to suit his liking.
“So this following you was deliberate?” Grace segued.
“I know it was. I went to see Doris’ mother this morning, and he knew about it. How else would he know except if he were watching me?”
“Well, he could have—”
“Please stop defending him. He repeated what I said to Patricia, so he had to have spoken to her!” she blasted before blowing her nose. “And he warned me about sticking my nose in the investigation!”
“What on earth? You’re investigating, Sammi? Why would you do something like that?”
She’d said too much.
It was her mother’s selective hearing at work again.
“I guess you didn’t hear the part about him trying to frame me. I suppose you expect me to sit around so they can fry me. That about it, Mom? I’m supposed to let the man who’s convinced I’m guilty gather enough ammo without putting up a fight?”
“But you don’t know—”
“I do know! I do! I just said I knew!”
Her voice was a tad loud. If Sam was upset, so was Mr. Cuddles. His tail batted against the plum-colored cushions, a menacing yowl tossed in for good measure.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I really am,” she apologized, moving closer to the woman who gave her birth and pushing the antsy cat out of the way. “It’s just I’m upset and about to lose my business, and you’re not siding with me. It makes me feel as if I’m alone … all alone and about to drown. You’re invalidating me.”
Grace’s arms wrapped around her child’s slender body, rocking her slightly. Mr. Cuddles couldn’t mount a charge without harming his hoo-manz, and so he accepted the affectionate embrace.
For now.
“I’m not trying to do that, baby. I love you and believe you. I’m just offering a different perspective because I know when I’m upset, I get things wrong because I’m not thinking clearly. But it doesn’t mean you do, honey. And as for the investigating, it’s dangerous, Sam. That’s what I’m reacting to. I think you’re fully capable of heading your own investigation, but not when there’s a killer loose.” Her arms pulled the child she loved more tightly to her. “I don’t want to lose you, baby. You’re my life,” she whispered.
Sam never could stand to see her mother cry. Kisses went on the rounded cheek; it was her turn to do the comforting.
“I’m sorry for speaking to you that way. Really … I love you so much and respect your opinion. I’m so glad you’re my mother. You’ve always encouraged me and are an integral part of who I am today. But most of all—”
The pause was too long. Her mother drew away, meeting her daughter’s eyes.
“Most of all what?” she asked through sniffles.
“Most of all … you never embarrassed me.”
Another pause. A grin appeared on her mother’s lips before she broke out in laughter. She well knew what her daughter was referring to. While every other teenager was being embarrassed by what their parents said or did, her claim to fame had been that she never put Samantha in that awkward position.
Taking the tissue from Sam’s hands, she swiped at the wetness collecting around her eyes and cheeks.
“Well, it’s something anyway,” she replied with a giggle.
“It’s more than that, Mom. It’s a huge deal. Every one of my friends in high school adored you.”
“Thanks for letting me know, but what did you say about being alone? Isn’t Lydia helping you?”
Yeah, that.
“I don’t want to get into that … if it’s okay with you.”
Her tone had returned to one of respect; she wouldn’t disrespect her mom again.
“It’s fine,” Grace responded. “I’m just surprised is all.”
“I am too. But they say you learn who your friends are in times of crisis—and, unfortunately, it’s true.”
“It’s sad … but this whole thing is sad … and … and I’m sorry you’re going through this. You’ve worked so hard to open your café and—and no one is coming? No one at all?”
“Nope. It’s Cricket City.”
“Did you let your staff go?”
“Just the part-timer. I’m keeping Katy and Matt for now … just in case things improve.”
“Well, let me know if your father and I can do anything. We have some money set aside—”
“For your retirement. No, you’re not using that. Besides, I may need it for a defense fund.”
The joke garnered a harsh stare. She was back in third grade and caught stealing a home-baked cookie out of the jar.
“Did you know Doris was married?”
The question was a way to break the silence and change the subject.
“Why, yes,” Grace answered. “Knew all about her husband Peter Dengrove too. He thought he was so slick. Had the entire town fooled. I felt horrible for Doris, but more so for Patricia.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew her better for one. For another, Patty had warned her daughter not to marry him, but there went Doris anyway.”
“She didn’t tell me that,” Sam remarked.
“No, she wouldn’t. She’s loyal to a fault and wouldn’t air her dirty laundry. She doted on that child.”
“But you didn’t like her?”
“Oh, honey … I wouldn’t say that. It’s just that … well … Doris was too much in a hurry.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, putting a hand over the stomach crying out for food. After all, it was already past seven and getting dark.
Then there was that run.
“I mean, she was in a rush … and when you’re in a rush to make good, it leads to foolish decisions.”
“Like marrying Dengrove.”
“Exactly like marrying Dengrove. She met him in college, you know.”
“Yes … UCLA,” Sam said, relaxing back. Putting two decorative pillows behind her, she kicked off her slides and rested her long legs on the upholstered ottoman.
“Oh, so you know she went there? Understandable if you talked to Patricia. Patty was so proud of that accomplishment, but her daughter did meet him there … and … well, he followed her back here. She mistook persistence as caring, but—”
“But what?”
“But Patty took it as having an agenda—a plan. Doris put it together too late. It wasn’t until after the arrest she figured out that Dengrove had targeted Mountain Valley through his relationship with her. The town does have some pretty well-to-do residents, and he considered them ripe for the picking and—”
“And so he trailed after her and asked her to marry him … to add to the credibility and throw people off the scent as to why he was really here.”
“Exactly,” her mother replied, reaching for a throw pillow, but—
Mr. Cuddles cut the effort off at the knees.
Drawing her hand back quickly, she clasped both her hands and kept them on her lap. Sam interfered and made things easy by handing the pillow to her.
“But I always admired Doris for starting that restaurant. Oh, you should have heard the gossip! Everyone thought she was crazy, especially after what happened.”
“You mean, about Dengrove?”
“No, I mean about the robbery. People thought the place was cursed.”
The twenty-eight-year-old shot up, her spine erect with curiosity.
“The place I’m in?” She had to make sure.
“Yes. 711 Maple Road.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Sam asked, digging in.
“Tell you what? That a robbery took place some twenty years ago and that a guard was hurt?”
“If the robbery happened in the place I was starting a business in, I would think—”
“But it didn’t. It happened next door—at 713.”
“There would have to be a thirteen in the address,” she mumbled.
“That theory was bandied about, but it’s just a number, Sammi … like any other number. It’s what happened that made it bad.”
“And what did? Because, frankly, I’m confused.”
“What happened was that there used to be a Drossider’s Finance and Loan at 713. Ostensibly, it specialized in small loans—for home improvements, purchasing a car, and sometimes for mortgages when banks turned prospective buyers down. Everything appeared on the up and up, but there was talk about Luther Drossider being a loan shark. The rumor was that he was keeping a stash of millions of dollars in a hidden safe. I doubt it was true … and there was never any proof … but the gossip was enough to get into the head of two young men.
“One night, they broke in and … what was it?” she asked, putting her finger to her chin. “Something about breaking into a wall safe … and a guard being shot.”
“Drossider had a security guard?”
“Yes.”
“What happened? Did he die?”
“I don’t know, dear. I just don’t remember.”
Sam’s stomach rumbled again. This time, it was loud enough for her
mother to hear.
“Have you eaten dinner, baby?”
“Not yet, Mom.”
“Then come. We’ll go to Pasta’s … my treat. I know how you love Italian.”
“You’re the best,” she said, leaning over and giving her mother a kiss. “You, too, Cuddie-Wuddie.” Her two hands dug into the thick neck. The massage incited rigorous purring to erupt, but Sam cut the session short. Grabbing one of the numerous lint brushes kept around the house, she swept it over her clothing a few dozen times. Grace took it from her when she was finished.
“But, honey,” her mother cautioned, looking up. “I hope what I said didn’t set something off in that head of yours.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, kissing her feline’s little pink nose before standing and slipping into her shoes.
“You know what it means. Please promise me you’ll stop this investigating. Pretty please?”
“Sure. Sure I can promise that, Mom,” she said as she grabbed her purse and gave Taz one more kiss. “Now let’s go.”
CHAPTER 13
“I don’t know, Sam … I don’t know if I can.”
Kaboom! Explosion … going off inside her head.
It was too early for this.
“What does that even mean, Lyddie? I’m only asking for you to do what you love—and that’s getting into other people’s business, so what’s the problem?”
Last night’s dinner at Pasta’s had been great. And the vestiges of guilt accumulated by lying to her mother about not investigating had all but disappeared. The stuffing her face with food had helped enormously. The restaurant used an old family recipe for their marinara sauce that had been handed down for generations. It was enough to make you cry. As for the lie she told before leaving the house, everyone knew it wasn’t a lie if you crossed your fingers.
And she had.
But her question … where was the answer to her question?
“I was taught never to pry,” came the curt reply.
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