Hoping that Dillon would clear out the party so I wouldn’t have to follow through on my warning, I topped off my wine and flopped on the couch to finish my show. Snickers jumped on board and settled on my lap. A moment later, Tabitha joined us and shoved Snickers off.
At ten-thirty, the party was louder than ever, and I was madder than ever. I didn’t want to call the cops because they have more important things to do. Instead, I pulled a bench over to the fence in my back yard, mounted it, and videoed the revelry. Then, without a lot of thought, I texted it to Josh. Here’s a video of the weekly Friday Night Bash at your house.
After that, divine inspiration hit me—please do not judge me until you have walked in my shoes. I got the hose, attached the sprayer nozzle, turned the water on full blast, and aimed it over the fence. The shrieks were music to my ears.
Chapter Eighteen
Saturday • June 20
Posted by Katy McKenna
I was drinking my first cup of coffee of the day while trying not to fall off the chaise lounge I was sharing with dead-weight Daisy. All was well with the world until my eyes landed on the hose by the fence.
“Probably not our finest hour, huh, Daisy?”
The chaise lounge hog climbed down, found a sunny spot on the concrete, collapsed with a groan, and stared at me.
I stretched my legs. “Okay—not my finest hour. But you gotta admit, hosing them was fun! At least I didn’t call the cops.”
“Maybe you should have,” said Josh from his yard.
My heart pinged and Daisy went wild. She zipped to the cedar fence, barking joyously. Her boyfriend was back!
“Josh? What are you doing here?” I called.
“May I come over?”
“Yes, of course.” Geez. I’m a mess! “Just give me a minute.”
I hurried to the bathroom to fix my bedhead hair. Then a swish of mouthwash, a dab of lipstick, some blush. I tried to apply mascara, but my hand was shaking so hard that I smeared it across my cheek.
The doorbell rang.
Dammit. I should have said thirty minutes! I scrubbed the mascara off my cheek, reapplied the blush, then spritzed the air with perfume and ran through the misty cloud to the front door.
With heart pounding like a race horse at the finish line, I opened the door and beheld my blond Viking. “Hi.” I tried to act nonchalant. “Long time, no see.” Long time, no see? Where’d that come from?
“Hey, Cookie.” He gave me a slow once-over that made my knees weak. “You got my favorite sexy pajamas on.”
I clutched the collar of my Oreo Cookie print flannels. “I’m a little slow this morning.”
He leaned a hand against the door frame. “You have good reason considering what was going on last night.”
Daisy had figured out that her sweetheart was at the front door and was pawing frantically on the closed dog door.
“Hold on. Someone wants to see you.” I dashed to the laundry room and let my besotted girl in. She raced to the entry and nearly knocked Josh off his feet. He knelt to hug her and got a face full of sloppy kisses.
“I missed you too, Daisy.” He glanced up at me. “More than I can say.”
“You want to come in?”
He stood. “I do.”
We went into the kitchen. I poured him a cup of coffee without asking if he wanted one. He took a sip.
“This is good.” He gazed at the antique Pyrex percolator on the stove. “My grandma had one of these. She always kept a pot on the burner that she’d reheat over and over, all day long.”
“Sounds awful.”
He laughed. “It probably was.”
And then we both said, “About last night…”
“You first,” I said. “No, wait. Me first. I’m sorry I texted you that video. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were angry and rightfully so. I haven’t talked to Dillon yet, but when he wakes up, I’ll set him straight.”
“He’s going to hate me.”
“He needs to understand that if he’s living in my house, he has to respect the neighbors. Otherwise, he can go back to the dorms. This was a favor to him. A nice home and free rent. I should’ve known better. I was his age once, and I was a thoughtless idiot, too.”
Mr. Snickers sauntered into the kitchen flicking his tail like he owned the place.
“New cat?” asked Josh.
We sat at the kitchen table, where I brought him up-to-date on the neighborhood news.
He hung his hand down low, and Snickers rubbed his nose against it. “I can’t believe Dillon didn’t take this guy home. What the hell is wrong with him?”
I shook my head. “Who knows? I’m taking him back to Nina today. Hopefully, Donna will let me in.”
“After everything you told me about Donna, you want me to walk over with you?”
“Yes, I would. But don’t you have to get back to Nicole?”
“She has a friend visiting. I’ll go back tomorrow.”
“How’s she doing?”
He waggled his head, lips pressed tight. “Up and down.”
“It’s really nice of you to be taking care of her.”
“I owe her big time. Hopefully, helping her will help me stop feeling guilty for wrecking our marriage.”
I pushed away from the table. “I need to get dressed.”
Josh stood and whispered in a husky voice, “Do you really have to?”
Stepping close, he reached out for my hand and pressed it against his broad chest. I could barely breathe. I felt his heart beating as he cupped my chin, lifting my face to meet his lips.
I was literally floating on air as we strolled down the street to Nina’s house. Josh was cradling Mr. Snickers securely in his arms. At the edge of Nina’s property, he shook his head. “How could anyone in their right mind do this?”
I rang the bell, and a long minute later, Donna answered. You should’ve seen her face flush when she got a load of Josh’s captivating smile.
“Hi. I’m Josh Draper. I live on the other side of Katy.”
She glanced at me and her dopey smile flickered out. Then her gaze returned to his blue-sky eyes.
“We found Nina’s cat,” he said.
“Oh?”
He held Snickers aloft and she noticed the cat for the first time. “Oh.”
Josh tucked Snickers under his arm. “We can’t wait to see Nina’s face when we give this little fella back to her.”
“You can’t come in,” she said. “She’s napping. Dreaming of happier days when she was young and healthy, I would imagine.”
I huffed a sigh. “Donna. Every single time I come over to see her, you say she’s sleeping. Every single time—except for the time she was taking a bath. How can that possibly be? I bet I’ve been over at least ten times now.”
“What can I say?” The woman shrugged. “She’s old. She’s sick. She’s on her last legs.”
Josh kept his tone neutral friendly. “I bet if the old girl sees her cat, it’ll perk her up.” He even tossed a wink at her.
For a moment, she looked mesmerized, then shook her head, regaining her equilibrium. “No. No, it won’t. It’ll just upset her. Please take the cat and go.”
I lost it and screamed, “Are you kidding me? You don’t want your aunt to have her cat? That’s cruel!”
She pinned her sharp glare on me. “I want you to stop coming over here and butting into our business. You got that? If I have to, I’ll get a restraining order.”
Fists clenched, I stepped closer, dying to flatten her bulbous nose. “A restraining order? For what? Caring about my neighbor?”
Josh eased me back. His voice shifted into low and ominous. “Listen, lady. You might need to get two restraining orders because this isn’t over. Got that?”
Eyes wide, Donna stepped backwards, gripping the edge of the wood door.
“Let’s go, Katy.” Still cradling the cat securely under his arm, Josh draped his other around my shoulders and led me down the s
teps.
The door closed softly behind us.
When we were back in my house, I took Mr. Snickers from Josh and snuggled him close. “You poor, poor baby. I promise we will get you back to your momma as soon as that awful person goes home.”
Josh moved close and petted his head. “In the meantime, big guy, you’re lucky to have Auntie Katy taking care of you. It’s probably a good thing that Dillon didn’t take him back. No telling what would have happened to him. But that still doesn’t excuse his thoughtlessness.” He glanced at his watch, and I instantly fixated on his blond, hairy, tanned arm. “I should get over there and talk to him. You okay?”
I nodded. “Give him hell.”
He leaned in for a kiss. “You better believe I will.”
Chapter Nineteen
Monday • June 22
Posted by Katy McKenna
Josh left last night. I tried to be cool about saying goodbye again, but I’m so not cool. I wish Nicole hadn’t told me she’s still in love with him. It makes me feel like “the other woman.” Not a part I want to play.
I realize I’ve blogged this many times in the last few months, but hey—it’s my blog, and I’ll cry if I want to.
I know just the thing that will take my mind off my woes. Terror.
Driving lesson #2
* * *
“Are you buckled?”
My student rolled her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Today, we’re going to drive on a paved road,” I said. “But not here in your neighborhood. Too busy.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes again. “It’s a cul-de-sac, Aunt Katy.”
“Do not roll your eyes at me again. It’s rude, and I’m doing you a favor. Teaching someone to drive is really scary, and if I’m annoying you, we don’t have to do this. But you get to explain to Sam why I quit.”
The devastated expression on her face killed me, but I didn’t retract my statement.
“I’m so, so sorry. I was just kidding around, Aunt Katy. Seriously.”
“Seriously? You know, whenever my folks got annoyed with whatever I was saying, I always said I was just kidding. Like that made it all right.”
“I was being a jerk. I really am sorry. I do appreciate you teaching me how to drive.”
I leaned in for a hug. “Okay, back to business.” I pointed beyond the circular street. “Past that stop sign, it’s open road. Cross streets. Pedestrians, kids on bikes, city buses. Driving a car is like holding a loaded gun. If you’re not careful, you will kill someone. That’s why I’m taking us to a quiet road out in the countryside.”
Twenty minutes later, Chelsea said, “We’re in the boonies, now. How much further?”
We were heading to a county park that has a paved road running through it. Hardly anyone goes there. I figured it was a good next step for my pupil.
“You’re in luck. There’s our turn up ahead,” I said.
“Hatcher Park? I haven’t been here in a super long time. I love this place,” said Chelsea. “But I thought I was going to drive on an actual street today.”
“I said a paved road. This is a paved road.” I parked next to a towering Blue Gum Eucalyptus tree. “Your turn.”
We switched seats and my jaw was already clenching. I should have taken aspirin before leaving the house because I felt a tension headache coming on.
“All right. Start your engine, and let’s roll. Really slow. Watch out for squirrels darting across the road.”
We drove around the park, practicing parking and backing up. After about half an hour, Chelsea said, “Can we stop now? My neck hurts, my arms are stiff, and I have a terrible headache.”
You and me both, kid. “That’s because you’re tense and gripping the wheel really tight. How about you park the car and we go play on the swings?”
She grinned like the little kid she still is. “You’re on!”
Chapter Twenty
Tuesday • June 23
Posted by Katy McKenna
Last night
* * *
I was sitting up in bed, reading The Kupcake Kaper, and trying to figure out why Donna’s books have so many five-star reviews.
“Have I ever told you what cute cupcakes you have?” asked Larry, his voice throaty with sudden need.
Patsy giggled very coyly. “Many times, you bad little boy.”
Larry moved in close, pinning his willing wife against the counter, then hoisted her eager body onto the cold, stainless steel counter in the bakery kitchen.
“Larry,” moaned Patsy ecstatically. “A customer might come in to buy cupcakes.”
He ripped her ruffled apron off and roughly slid his hand under her blouse. “Baby, these cupcakes are only for daddy.”
* * *
“Yuck!” I yelled, startling the fur babies snoozing next to me. “Sorry, guys.”
I logged onto Amazon to see what genre Donna’s books are in. I had thought they were cozy culinary mysteries. I was wrong.
#3 in Culinary Mystery Erotica
#17 in Erotic Cozy Mysteries
#11 in Erotic Thriller Culinary Mysteries
“Okay, Donna. Now you have my attention.” I breezed through several chapters. I have to admit that some of it was pretty titillating. But then I’d picture sloppy Donna in her hideous muumuus, gorging on cupcakes while she typed steamy sex scenes on a sticky, crumb-covered keypad. Talk about a buzzkill.
I knew my bestie was asleep, but I had to tell her about the book, so I texted:
You have got to read Donna’s book! The Kupcake Kaper. It’s sooooo good! I’m sending you the eBook now. My gift to you! Talk tomorrow.
This morning
* * *
Construction commotion awakened me too early this morning. I assumed Donna had scraped up the money she owed the crew, and that’s why they were back on the job.
While my coffee perked, I checked my messages. Sam had replied to the text I sent last night: You’re kidding, right? You want me to read that woman’s book?
I texted back: I’ve read several chapters, and OMG—shocker! Read it!
After chugging a cup of caffeine, I pulled myself together and went to check out the action at Nina’s. Turns out, the construction work was next door at the Miller house. Workers were installing wind turbines on the roof peak. A fellow wearing a blue baseball cap stood on the lawn directing the installation.
I was observing from the sidewalk and he strode over. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” The logo on his hat said Catch the Wind. “You live in the neighborhood?”
I backed up a step, shaking my head. “Just out for a walk.”
“Be glad to give you a free estimate. You’d be shocked how much electricity these babies can generate. My name’s Mel.” He handed me his card. “And you’re?”
Didn’t want to share that, either, so I said the first name that came to mind. “Patsy. I’ll do a little research, and if it’s affordable, I’ll give you a call.” I turned to escape.
“You can’t afford not to do it. This is the future of power.”
Back home, I scrambled an egg, poured a glass of orange juice, and settled on the couch to watch TV. Mr. Snickers slinked into the room giving me a beseeching look that said, “Why am I here?”
“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t take you home until that horrible Donna and her annoying dog leave.” I sighed, thinking, you may be here a long time.
The Hallmark Movies and Mysteries Channel had offered a free thirty-day trial period, and I’d recorded a show called The Mystery Blogger. I blog, and I’ve accidentally solved a couple of mysteries, so the title had intrigued me.
The story’s gist was: A cute woman in her early thirties, lives in a charming town, owns a quaint craft shop, and blogs about her daily life. This was the first episode in the series—originally broadcast two years ago, so if I like it, there are several more. In this one, she was concerned about an invalid neighbor who’s not answering her phone, or her door.
When I got to the scene where
Ashley is opening a window to sneak into the neighbor’s house, I clicked pause.
Could I do that? Dare I do that?
I continued the scene. The heroine climbs through the sash window. Even though it’s sunny outside, the room is dark and gloomy. She scans the room with her phone flashlight and the beam lands on a person in bed who is clearly dead. Ashley hears voices coming down the hall and hides in the closet.
A tall creepy guy with a spider web throat tattoo says, “What are we going to do with the old biddy’s body?”
“The bigger question,” says the dumpy, frumpy, short woman with him, “is, what’re we going to do with yours?”
“Huh?”
Bang.
I paused the show again to think. The Nina situation isn’t a TV mystery movie, so it’s not like Donna will shoot me if she finds me in the house. I concluded that a Good Samaritan cannot let the law stand in her way.
Earl was sitting on the porch trying to get some decent sounds out of a didgeridoo and not having much luck. Looking embarrassed, he stopped when he saw me approaching.
“Please don’t quit on my account. I’ve never seen anyone play a didgeridoo before.”
“I watched a video on how to do it. I think I need to watch a few more.” He set it down on the floor. “Woo. I am out of breath.”
“I came over to ask a favor.”
He nodded. “Name it.”
“I don’t want you to go to any extra trouble, but if you see Donna leave Nina’s house, would you call me?”
“You bet. Why?”
I leaned against the porch rail. “I haven’t been able to see Nina in over two weeks now, and I’m worried about her. I don’t want to wake up one morning and get a call from my grandma telling me she just read Nina’s obituary.”
While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5 Page 9