by Ritter Ames
Nonstop lists were cycling through my mind, so I almost missed the next perplexing surprise of the day. As I turned onto Waverly Road, I glanced down a side street and saw John Harper again studying the front of a house. Like I’d noticed when I’d seen him earlier in the morning.
“What are you doing?” I mused.
“Nothing,” Mac said, happily riding shotgun for the second time in one day. “Why?”
I laughed. “I was thinking about something else, sweetie. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I talk to myself sometimes, too. It doesn’t mean you’re crazy.”
“Um, thanks.” I wasn’t sure where his comment came from, but it reminded me that I needed to pay a little closer attention to the interchanges between my boys. I’d had a sneaking suspicion lately Jamey was trying out some elementary-age mind games on his little brother. However, Mac’s response implied he was taking anything his older bro threw at him in stride, leaving me marginally reassured.
He and Honey played in the backyard after lunch, and I tried to squeeze in a little more work on my blog business. I had a new advertiser who wanted to use a graphic too large for the spot they purchased, so I emailed some options, and sent the system problems to my teenaged webmaster. Thank goodness the kid was a genius, because I wouldn’t have had an online business otherwise. I already worried about what I would do when he went to college. Maybe convince him to start an online website business and keep me as his only client. Wishful thinking.
The morning had been too busy for all the hours not to fly by, and the afternoon was shaping up to be the same frenetic pace. Mac and Honey came back inside to watch a movie in the living room, which was where I found them when I realized if we didn’t leave immediately, we’d be late picking up Jamey.
I was starting to grasp the flaw in my safety plan during “murder week,” but so far running continuous shuttles seemed to be the only answer.
At least tomorrow I won’t have to do the bank and police runs I did today. So Honey and I can walk to get the boys after school and grab a little exercise for ourselves along the way.
I led a resistant Honey to the backyard again. She wasn’t nearly as willing this time to trade a belly rub and more alone time, for the company of my youngest on the floor in front of the television.
“Sorry, girl,” I said. “We’re running errands before we come back here. You can’t go in with us, and I can’t leave you in the car. But I promise a something special when you see me again.”
She did a kind of hrmph sound with her lips that only ever happened when she was irritated with us. Well, this time just me. I was lucky she didn’t start talking. Honey was limited to a “rowl-based” vocabulary, but she could get her point across when she started “speaking” her mind.
Back inside the house, I got Mac’s attention. “You have your library books, right?”
“In the car.”
“And your brother’s?”
“Stacked with mine on the backseat.”
“Perfect,” I said, grabbing the sack of videos checked out on my card. “Let’s roll.”
“Shotgun!” Mac yelled, barreling toward the front door.
JAMEY WASN’T THE LAST kid to be picked up, but he’d definitely had to wait longer than he was used to. While my oldest didn’t grasp the idea of sarcasm, he had grumpy down to a science. And he wasn’t pleased to discover his brother in the front passenger seat either. “You’ve had the front all day. You gotta get in the backseat.”
“I’m all buckled up,” Mac reasoned. “You get in back.”
“Mo-ommm.” Jamey had reached his frustration point. Well, he could get worse, but this was as far as I wanted it to go.
“Change seats, Macster.” I jerked my thumb toward the rear of the car. “It’s your brother’s turn.”
“Okay.” Mac grumbled, but he scooted quickly from the front, and a minute later we were on our way to the library.
I didn’t plan to check out any books, so I made sure each boy had his own library card, slipped my wallet under the driver’s seat, and scooped up the bag of videos. The boys raced each other, stopping at the automatic doors when I called out, “No running in the building.”
When I got inside, both boys were in the children’s area of the library. Jamey stood trailing a finger along the spines of science books, as he read the titles. Mac was stretched out on the floor with an Eric Carle title.
My favorite librarian, Jeanie Jackson, stood manning the checkout desk. She’d retired as a school librarian, helping kids from elementary to high school gain a love of reading. Now, she volunteered twice a week in our public library, and kept an eye out for wonderful reads to recommend to people like me who always wanted to try new things. I’d found so many new-to-me authors through her.
“We just received the latest Sarah Booth Delaney mystery by Carolyn Haines,” she whispered, when I stopped at the counter to say hi. “Want me to put you on the waiting list?”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“I know she’s one of your favorites.”
“Always,” I said, unloading the DVDs from the bag and stacked the cases on the counter. “I remembered y’all don’t like when we drop these into the slot.”
She nodded. “The poor things get buried under the weight of the books before we even realize they’re in there. Find some good ones?”
“They’re mostly Thomas the Tank Engine videos,” I said. “Mac and I have been watching them in the afternoons.”
“Kids grow up so quickly. Those special times are priceless.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Jeanie smiled and asked, “And how’s that lovely Labrador of yours?”
“Curious about everything, could power the town on the energy she creates from wagging her tail. She’s currently irritated with me because I wouldn’t let her come with us today.”
She chuckled. “Honey would be the perfect library dog.”
“Exactly what she thinks.”
“Perhaps I can convince the director to let her visit sometime. I’ll give it a shot and let you know. A lot of libraries have dogs that come in now for the children to read to them. Helps foster literacy.”
I smiled. “Tell the director she’s a very literate Lab.”
Another patron walked up, and I left so Jeanie could work. The double row of computers nearby made me think about a way to search for information while the boys looked for books. Three machines were free, and I took a seat at the closest one. An instant later, I remembered I needed my library card.
I didn’t want to have to go back to the car for my card, so I went in search of one of my boys. Mac was the easiest to find, since he was now flat on his back paging through Seuss’s Horton Hears a Who. He couldn’t yet read the book, but I was sure he knew all the words. We had our own copy at home, and I’d read it to the boys at least a million times. By now, he had a ring of books around him. I wondered which he’d pick to take home. He could only check out ten at a time. Otherwise, I think he’d try to transport the whole children’s library to his room with each visit.
“Are you finding some good ones, Mackie?” I asked.
He grinned and set down Horton, holding up a grizzly bear book he made dance in the air. “Lots! I just have to narrow it down.” He frowned. “Deciding is very hard.”
“I hear you.” I made my expression match his for solemnness. “But we’ll come again later in the week if you’d like.”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” He nodded, his face still showing the gravity he felt for our discussion.
“While you’re picking which to take home, let me have your library card, please,” I asked, holding out my hand.
His eyes widened. “But I gotta have it to check out—”
“Mac, I’ll give it back. I just need to jump onto the computer for a minute and I don’t want to have to walk out to the car to get mine.”
He slowly withdrew the card
from his pocket, then stood up to hand it to me and said, “Okay, for a minute. But when I’m ready to go, you have to give it back to me.”
“I promise.” I put my hand over my heart. “Scouts’ honor.”
“Were you really a Scout?” His expression said he didn’t believe it.
“Yep, and I have a sash with a bunch of achievement patches to prove it.” I didn’t tell him I only stayed in Scouts to collect patches, and when I reached a level where patches were no longer given for tasks completed, I was no longer interested in being a Scout. Didn’t sound like a good teaching story.
“Can I see them when we get home?”
“If I can find the sash. It’s in a box somewhere in the attic. We may need to wait until next week.”
“I’ll help you look.”
I pointed at the stacks on the floor. “Right now, concentrate on picking which books are going home with you. We’re not staying here all afternoon.”
“Gotcha!” He winked and looked just like his father for a second. Then he dropped back to the floor and resumed his quest.
It was moments like that when my heart really ached from having a husband who traveled so much. I knew the job was the best thing for Dek—he’d hate to be tied down to one place. But when he appeared momentarily in the boys’ movements or expressions, it made me miss him so much more.
“Time for a Skype date,” I muttered, adding the call to my mental to-do list once I had the chance to convert time zones and figure out when it was best to catch him. I sat down at the computer and used Mac’s card to gain access.
I searched on J.C. Carlisle, and what I found made him look pretty legit. One link showed an awards dinner filled with real estate and banking people, and Carlisle was one of the night’s Diamond Pen recipients. A podium picture showed a chamber of commerce president from a small city in a neighboring county shaking Carlisle’s hand and extending the pen with his left hand. The pen looked like it could be the same one he held Saturday night. The pen Brian Baker said wasn’t with the body the next morning.
But the biggest surprise was the man seated down the table from the presentation scene. Looking toward the podium and clapping was my new neighbor, John Harper.
The same John Harper I’d seen haunting our neighborhood streets today and staring at different house fronts.
I remembered what Donna said about Harper when she picked up the boys Saturday night. That made me more suspicious. Luckily, I’d put the change from my morning coffee into my jeans pocket and used the coins to pay for a printout of the story. After a bit more searching on both Carlisle’s and Harper’s names, I was ready to call it a day. Nothing else looked promising.
At that same time, Jamey wandered over with an armload of books.
“I’m ready to go whenever you are,” he said.
“Terrific. What books do you have?”
He turned the stack sideways to read the titles. “Bunch of stuff. One on optical illusions, black holes, a biography on Tesla, one on electromagnets, and two Encyclopedia Brown books.”
I looked at the covers on the last two and recognized they were the updated versions, revamped for a new generation of children. I’d shown the series to Jamey a few months ago, and he’d been picking up one or two with each visit.
“Let’s go round-up your brother,” I said, logging out of the computer and slipping the folded printout into my back pocket behind my phone. “He had a monumental assortment of books he was trying to choose from when I last saw him. But I got the feeling he was definitely going home with one on grizzly bears.”
Mac was in the same location, but he was sitting up this time with the books surrounding him in a specific manner understood by only the kindergarten mind.
“Time to go, sweetie. Pick your favorites,” I said. He held up his hand, and I slipped his library card into his fingers. “And thanks for the loan.”
He nodded, putting one stack of five books onto another similar stack, hefting the titles as he scrambled to his feet. And yes, the grizzly bear book was right on top.
At checkout, Jeanie paid special attention to each boy’s books. She made suggestions to Jamie about titles he might want to read soon, and when she pulled Mac’s stack closer to process their checkout, she said, “These look interesting too. But I have a Thomas book here that I thought you might like to take with you.”
My youngest’s brown eyes glowed when his gaze landed on the blue engine on the cover, then his face fell. “I already have ten books, and it was hard to choose those. I’m not sure which one I should put back.”
Jamey stepped up. “How about if I check it out on my card? Then you don’t have to decide.”
“Would you? That’d be awesome!” Mac raised a hand to share a high-five with his hero-brother.
As we headed out, Mac made a pit stop at the water fountain, and I used the opportunity to tell Jamey, “That was a cool move, kiddo. Thanks for coming to your brother’s rescue.”
Color crept up his neck and cheeks, and he shrugged, trying to brush aside the compliment by saying, “It was self-preservation. We’d have never gotten out of here if he had to put back one of the other books.”
I chuckled, and Jamey grinned. Mac returned and asked, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just happy to spend time with you boys.”
“Oh. Okay. You’re fun too,” he said. He took off at a run again, and called over his shoulder, “Shotgun!”
“Mo-oomm,” Jamey said.
I held up the keys. “He can’t get into the car, and it’s still your turn. Now, let’s go catch your brother.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
ABBY’S RED MAZDA MIATA pulled into our driveway about six o’clock, sending Honey into barking fits at the front window. I couldn’t imagine the small car’s confines transporting much in the way of cargo, but I called the boys to come and help carry in her things. Honey beat us to the door, too excited to get out of the way to let me easily open it, so Abby was climbing the steps before we managed to get outside. She carried her purse in one hand and a small suitcase rolled behind her.
“Welcome back.” I hugged her. “Is that your only bag? Or are there more in the car?”
“A few more tote bags in the trunk,” she said, smiling at the boys. “I was hoping I could get these handsome gentlemen to bring the rest in for me.”
“Sure, Aunt Abby,” Jamey said, pulling his brother along.
“Sure, Aunt Abby,” Mac echoed behind him. Honey kept pace.
“Oh good,” she called. “The trunk lid is up. Just grab the bags.”
“Come on into the house, Abbs.” I moved to allow her to get in without having to turn sideways and called to the boys, “Take everything up to the guest room and place it all nicely on the bed.”
“Yes, Mom,” they answered simultaneously.
“And keep an eye on the dog.”
Abby whispered. “Do you want to leave them out there by themselves?”
“No one can get past Honey, and the whole neighborhood will hear her bark. You look exhausted. Would you like a Coke? I don’t just have Diet now.”
“I’d like a couple of beers, a soft pillow, and Netflix for the night, but I guess a Coke might help too.”
We headed for the kitchen, as the boys reentered the front door. Jamey had two bags, Mac held one smaller bag with both hands, and Honey had the handle of another clamped in her jaws. They made an interesting processional up the stairs. Abby walked to the window and looked out saying, “I counted bags, and they had it all. They even closed the trunk.”
“I’m surprised you got that much in your car. You must be a packing wizard.”
“You learn tricks when you buy a fun two-seater roadster instead of something more practical.” She patted the side of her roller bag. “This baby sat in the passenger seat and kept me company the whole trip.
I pulled a cold Coke from the refrigerator and handed it to her. “Well, take this and relax
. Unless you’d prefer the diet variety.”
“No, I need the sugar. But when have you had time to go to the store?”
“Yesterday evening. I wanted to make sure I had the stuff you liked on hand too,” I said. “I’m just about to serve dinner. Cobb salad. Are you staying, or do you need to make a command-mother appearance first?”
“I’m mentally practicing my curtsy as we speak.” She sat at the table. “But first, tell me anything that’s happened since we talked this morning.”
I launched into a recap of my day. As expected, her face clouded when I talked about pumping Vonda and my bank’s loan officer for information, but after she’d had a minute to digest things, she agreed I’d made progress. She wasn’t nearly as concerned about the conversation Mrs. G and I’d had with Dylan after being fingerprinted.
“That’s typical cop wariness,” she said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Okay.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Just this.” I removed the folded printout from my back pocket and told her the significance of the ceremony and John’s appearance in the shot.
“Hmm. Interesting, but circumstantial,” she said, as she scanned the article. “And you’re thinking we should go and meet the fish guy tomorrow?”
“Yep. I checked online this afternoon, and his shop opens at nine.”
“Gives us time to do some pre-planning before we go,” she said. “Speaking of going—”
“Mommy.” Mac entered from the living room, with his hands clamped over his ears. “You know how you said a while ago we’re having salad for dinner?”
“Yes.” I grinned at Abby’s perplexed expression as Mac passed by her chair.
“I don’t think I can have salad tonight,” my youngest pled his case. His hands remained tight over his ears. “My stomach has a virus, I think, and it needs a hamburger.”
“It does, does it?” I frowned. “That’s too bad. If you can’t have salad, it means you can’t have the crumpled bacon, and the crumbly bleu cheese, and the egg slices, and the black olives, avocado slices, and—”
“All that’s on a salad?” In his surprise, Mac dropped his hands in a better to hear you with manner.