“I love you, too, sweetie.” She flashed a brilliant smile. “Sorry about getting you into trouble with your man.”
“He isn’t my man.” I wished he was, though. Wouldn’t that be grand? Mrs. Matthew Steele. I’d change my author name to Stormi Steele. Oh, that sounded wonderful.
Someone shrieked; an angry sound ripping through the night. Then a cry — a mixture of pain, anger, and resignation all whipped together — followed by the deeper rumble of a man’s voice.Sadie ducked behind me and whimpered.
Mom and I glanced at each other then dashed across the street, half-dragging my cowardly dog. I pointed to our right. “I think the noise came from there.”
“Wait.” Mom grabbed my arm. “Maybe we should call the police.”
“Probably a good idea, but I didn’t bring my cell phone.” When would I remember to stick it in my pocket when I left the house? “If somebody’s in trouble, there isn’t time to go home first.” I yanked Sadie’s leash. She dug her paws into the grass and hunched her shoulders. “Come on.”
Another shriek echoed from behind one of the houses.
“Tie her to a tree and leave her.” Mom moved to a jog.
I hated to leave behind my cowering friend, but I slipped the handle of her leash over a tree limb and sprinted after Mom. Careening around the corner of a pale-colored Victorian, I skidded to a stop in the alley and slipped on the loose gravel. My arms flailed like a windmill but I kept my footing and concentrated on the couple in front of me.
Behind a massive hydrangea bush partially covering a screened-in porch, the neighborhood’s blond bombshell, Victoria, struggled with a man. He gripped her upper arms, shook her, and let loose a string of curse words strong enough to singe my eyebrows.
“I didn’t. I swear.” Tears rolled down Victoria’s cheeks. “The simpleton stared through the window with no invitation from me. You know how he is, skulking around, watching people”
“Right. Like the time I caught you dancing in your underwear for Mr. Edgars.” The man shoved her away from him.
“That was my job. I was at work.” Victoria covered her face. “Besides, you know I don’t dance for money anymore.”
It’s not that I wanted to eavesdrop or witness such a tragic scene, but I couldn’t tear myself away. Mom didn’t do any better. Like teenagers catching their first glimpse of an R-rated movie, we stared.
My life once existed in peaceful surroundings like a Norman Rockwell painting. At least until two years ago when Dad died from a wayward bullet between gang members. Then, just when I thought I might have things together again, all this happened. Violence of any sort had a tendency to unnerve me.
When the stranger noticed us and took a step in our direction, I took a step back. Please, don’t hit me. I bruise easily.
“Who are you? What do you want?” He clenched his hands at his sides and continued to advance.
I straightened as tall as my five-foot-two inches would take me. “I’m head of the Neighborhood Watch.”
He laughed; a cold humorless sound. Goosebumps raised on my arms. “Good for you.”
Time for a bit of grits. “Mom, give me your flashlight.” I held out my hand and wrapped my fingers around the hard plastic.
Like a scene from David and Goliath, the man towered over me. The streetlamp’s glow stretched his shadow before us like a creature from the pit of hell. My stomach dropped. Surely David’s knees had shook as mine did; his heart beat the same irregular tattoo.
Victoria sniffled behind the angry man and held out her hands, mumbling something sounding to me like, “Bob, it’ll be all right, don’t do anything rash,” etc.
At least I had a name for the enraged man. But, Bob was about to get the shock of his life. I might be small, but I could pack a mighty wallop when scared. I raised the flashlight and whapped him on the head.
He cradled his head. “What the …?”
Victoria leapt to his aid, spitting, and screeching like a treed cat. “Why’d you hit him? He wasn’t going to hurt you. Bob wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
The poor man groaned and slid to the ground. Really? That’s right, big boy. Play it up, Superman. I could see the marks from his fingers forming on the pale skin of Victoria’s upper arm. Why did she defend him? This is why I chose to stay home in my office and deal with imaginary people. They made more sense.
Footsteps pounded behind us. I thrust the flashlight at Mom as Matt barreled into our merry group. She dropped it. It spun in a circle, illuminating each of us in flashes of light, but the only face I focused on was the stern one of Matt. Disappointment twice in one night. Would our relationship ever recover?
“What’s going on?” Matt crossed his arms.
“That woman,” Bob pointed at me. “Smacked me in the head with a lethal weapon.”
“It was a flashlight. A cheap one dollar flashlight from Wal-Mart.” I rolled my eyes and mimicked Matt’s posture. “Besides, he was hurting Victoria and making menacing advances toward me.”
“Miss. Lanham?” Matt glanced at her.
“I’m fine.” She gripped Bob’s arm as he stood. “No harm done. These women interfered where they aren’t wanted and attacked my boyfriend.”
“Good grief.” How could she be so dumb? Surprisingly, Mom kept her mouth shut. The one time I could’ve used her to side with me, and she chose to act like a clam, and left me looking like a hysterical bystander.
Matt moved to my side. “I’ll walk you home.”
“But—”
“If she doesn’t want to press charges, there’s nothing we can do.” He leaned closer. A whiff of his cologne sent my stomach fluttering. “It’d be wise to leave before he decides to press charges against you.”
I sputtered, but allowed him to lead me away. Mom followed like a docile puppy. We retrieved Sadie and continued home. After we reached my porch steps, Matt ushered Mom into the house and faced me.
“Can’t you stay out of trouble for ten minutes?” He plopped onto the porch swing and patted the cushion beside him.
Although I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, I sat and let the swinging motion lull me to a sense of peace. “I don’t go looking for it, Matt. I was walking home, like you told me to, and heard a woman scream.”
“It didn’t occur to you to call the police?”
“I didn’t have my phone.” I glanced at his strong profile. The urge to have him kiss me burned through my veins. My face heated, and I stared across the dark yard so he couldn’t use the glow of the porch light to read the emotions on my face. “I couldn’t ignore a cry for help.”
“I’m not sure I can do this,” he mumbled. He sighed deep enough to vibrate the wooden back of the swing. “Stormi, if you interfere in my investigation again, or put you or your mother in danger, I will arrest you.”
“Interfere how?” I leaped to my feet. “I was walking home. How is that breaking the law?” Letting him know it was all Mom’s idea might get him off my back a little, but, no. As an adult, I had the right to choose to follow my mother’s crazy schemes without answering to a man.
Matt stood and leaned close enough I could see the moon cast sparks of light in his eyes, like daggers of cold fire. “You entered a crime scene without permission.”
“The tape was gone.” I planted my fists on my hips. By this time, our noses almost touched.
“It’s private property!”
“My dog got loose.”
“My guess is you let her loose.” Matt grabbed fistfuls of his hair and turned away from me. “Ugh.”
“I can’t talk to you like this.” Tears burned my eyes.
“The feeling’s mutual.” He stormed down the stairs and across the yard.
A sob tore at my throat. With everything in me, I willed him to turn around and run back to me. But this wasn’t like one of my romance novels. He wasn’t going to do what I wanted, willed or not. I didn’t hold the pen to write this love story.
Matt halted at the sidewalk. His shoulders slumped. T
he sob lodged in my throat as I stared at his back. He whirled and sprinted up the walk. He took the steps two-at-a-time and halted in front of me.
“You drive me to distraction,” he growled. He put his hands on each side of my face and stared into my eyes. “You’re like a drug.”
Then he kissed me; A hard, rough, kiss. The kind that claimed ownership and stated frustration. The lip smashed against teeth, bruising, blood-boiling kind of kiss.
I slipped my arms around his neck and held on, letting the turbulent storm carry me while I returned his passion with equal fervor. My legs weakened, and we fell backward onto the swing. The wood dug into my spine, and I squirmed, moaning. My fingers tangled in his hair. I didn’t want the kiss to end, ever.
Matt broke contact and chuckled, his breathing heavy. “If you keep moving like that I can’t be responsible for my actions.”
“The swing’s digging into my back.” Wonderful. He must think I’m a tease.
He stood and offered his hand to pull me up. “And, here I thought it was my kisses.” With a gentle tug, he pulled me against his chest and tilted my chin. “You frighten me more than anything I’ve ever encountered.” He brushed his lips across mine and left me standing wobbly-legged as he loped down the road.
Mercy! I ought to bottle the man. I’d make a fortune.
Now, I needed to find a way to continue locating clues without losing what promised to be a blood-rushing relationship.
Something rustled in the hyacinth bushes on the side of the house. I ducked and peered around the corner. Rusty stared back at me; his eyes wide and round as an owl’s.
11
“Get out of there.” I grabbed the neckline of Rusty’s striped tee shirt and dragged him from the bushes. “What are you doing skulking around?”
“Nothing.” He hung his head. “Rusty heard a noise.”
Yeah, I bet he did. Me and Matt falling across the porch like a couple of teenagers. “You’ve got to stop spying on people, Rusty. It’s going to get you into trouble.”
He squared his shoulders. “No. Rusty is invisible. Like super hero.”
“Really? Because Victoria saw you watching her dress. You scared her and made her boyfriend mad.”
“Boyfriend is a bad man. Rusty sees things. Rusty knows things.” With a frantic look over his shoulder, he dashed across the street and into the shadows.
“Wait!” He could be a valuable asset in my sleuthing. Plus, his statement stood the hairs on my arms straight up like soldiers. What did he know? What had he seen? Had he witnessed Mrs. Lincoln’s murder? I needed to speak with Matt right away.
I sped back to the porch and yanked open the squeaky screen door, smashing into the locked wooden one. “Hey!” Cherokee and Dakota grinned from the other side of the rectangular etched glass. “Not funny.”
They proceeded to make kissy faces at each other and pretend to faint. Good grief. Had the whole neighborhood seen our wanton display? “Open this door right now. This is important.” They dissolved into hoots of laughter. Fine. There were other ways of getting into the house. I stomped to the kitchen door.
A doggy door, stained with dirt and dog slobber, hung installed by the previous owner. Too small for Sadie, she waited until someone came home to let her out. Now, I’d use it as a means to gain entrance to my own home. It’d be a tight fit, but if I sucked it in and turned sideways, hopefully I could squeeze through. Darn those kids. Where was my mother? Or their mother?
I dropped to my hands and knees and stuck my head through the flap. The kids must have decided to watch TV because the volume could be heard all the way to Mars.
Sadie immediately romped across the room and began to wash my face with her oversize tongue. “Stop it. Go away.” She increased her slobbering and added a jubilant tail wag. “Somebody come get the dog.”
I wiggled my shoulders through the small opening and crawled until my upper torso was through. Yes! I shuffled forward, and stopped. My hips refused to shimmy past the door. Sucking in my gut, I lunged, fighting to grasp a handhold on the wooden floor. Nothing. I tried backing up. Same result. Wonderful. Stuck in the door like a sawed-in-half woman in a magic show. “Help! Stop it, Sadie.”
Saliva dripped down my face. I gagged. Why did they have to have the television so loud? I kicked my feet and pounded my fists on the floor. When I’d exhausted myself, I lay still and glared at Sadie. “Why can’t you be like Lassie and go for help?”
When I gave up all hope of ever being rescued, somebody tapped me on the back. “Hello?” Matt. Oh, no.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the view, but I’m going to open the door. Crawl with it.” He chuckled behind me. “Did you know your mother hides a spare key in the birdhouse?”
The door swung open, and I scuttled forward. Tears of relief sprang to my eyes. I would’ve preferred to be rescued by anyone but Matt, considering my talent for embarrassing myself in front of him, but at this point, a girl couldn’t be too picky.
Once Matt stepped inside the house, he squatted down beside me and laughed. “How in the world did you get in this predicament?”
“The kids thought it would be funny to lock me out and I needed to get to a phone. Why are you here?”
“Your Mom called and said somebody was trying to break into the house.”
“That was me. Why didn’t she come check?”
Mom stepped into the room, the cordless phone to her ear.
“Why didn’t you come check?” I asked.
“It’s only my daughter. Thank you for your quick response.” She pressed the off button and grinned. “After all the hoopla around here, a girl can’t be too careful.”
“Just get me out of here.” I plopped to my stomach. The ridge of the door dug into my ribcage and started to affect my breathing. I hated everybody.
“I’ll need a screwdriver and a saw,” Matt said, the twinkle in his eye not fading. “You might be a little thing, but you aren’t a poodle.”
“Ha ha.”
Mom nodded and squeezed past us.
A saw? He was going to cut my door. My throat swelled. The beautiful raised-paneled wood. “Isn’t there another way? Grease me up or something? Please don’t cut my door.”
“Afraid not.” Matt sat cross-legged next to me. “There won’t be much left of the doggy door when I’m done, but that’s all I need to destroy.”
“I called the fire department,” Mom said.
I laid my head on my folded arms.
“Tell me again how you ended up here?” Matt scooted closer. “Why wouldn’t somebody open the door? Why was it locked?”
I sniffed and raised my head. “Apparently, everyone—the kids, Rusty, the neighbors, God—saw us rolling around on the porch. Cherokee and Dakota thought it was funny and locked me out. After you left, I spotted Rusty watching from the bushes and confronted him.”
“Watching from the bushes?” Matt frowned.
I nodded. “I told him he shouldn’t do that, but the silly man thinks he’s invisible. Telling me he sees everything and hears everything. He’s going to get into trouble one of these days. You should talk to him. Especially, since I think he might’ve seen who killed Mrs. Lincoln. That’s why I wanted to get to a phone. To call you and tell you what I discovered.”
The lines in Matt’s forehead deepened. “Were you questioning him?”
Uh-oh. “Not really. He volunteered the info … mainly.”
“Stormi, I told you to stay out of this investigation.”
“What do you expect me to do when I spot a Peeping Tom? Do the shimmy for his entertainment?” I tried squirming around to find a more comfortable position. What if I had a permanent crease across my middle? I glared at Cherokee and Dakota when they peeked through the kitchen door. Wait until I got my hands around their scrawny necks.
Mom returned and sat at the table, chin propped in hand, and stared at me. “You take after your father. No way could someone like you resemble me. You get into way too much trouble.”
Seriously? Mom was the queen of misadventure, and if I were more like Dad, I would have become a police officer rather than an author. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shrugged. “I call ‘em as I see ‘em.”
“Mrs. Nelson, could you give us a moment of privacy?” Matt sighed. “Maybe watch for the fire department?”
“Might as well. Angela will be home any minute, and she’ll freak out. Most likely think something happened to one of the kids.” She shook her head. “If I knew moving in with my daughter would be this dramatic, I might’ve had second thoughts.” With those encouraging words, she shuffled out of sight.
At least I knew how to get rid of my family if I wanted. Keep things hopping around the Nelson homestead. In the distance, sirens wailed. I buried my face again and waited for further embarrassment.
Why couldn’t I have left well enough alone? Sitting behind my computer, cranking out mass market paperbacks of sweet romance? But no, I had to listen to my agent and find fodder for my characters. Meat to make my stories fresh. I added a call to her to my mental to-do-list for first thing in the morning.
*
First thing in the morning didn’t actually happen until ten. Not after the trauma of being sawed free of my door, gawked at by strangers, apologized over by my niece and nephew, laughed at by my sister when she returned home, and melting into a puddle after another goodbye kiss from Matt. After Sadie gave me a wake-up slurp, I lumbered to the kitchen and poured myself a mug of coffee, heavy on the hot chocolate.
I peeled aside the plastic sheeting that served as my back door and let Sadie out to do her business. I’d have to put a long thin window there to replace the former doggie door. Then, I listened to the quiet house.
Where was everyone? Angela, I knew, started her new job today. The kids, although enrolled, wouldn’t be starting school for three more months. A long summer loomed in front of us. And Mom, only God knew what she was up to. I shrugged. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, so they say. Maybe I could do some writing after I called my agent. I grabbed the cordless phone from the counter and dialed her number.
Nosy Neighbor: All 7 complete Nosy Neighbor cozy mysteries PLUS: 2 short Christmas stories (A Nosy Neighbor mystery) Page 7