Sprouted

by Gina LaManna

  I pulled the bag with tissue paper toward me, wrinkling my nose at the interesting smell. “I sure hope that’s not food.”

  Nora laughed so hard she hiccupped. Either that or the mimosas were working.

  “Oh, wow,” I said in a falsely high voice. “It’s a weird looking green thing and a bowl of dirt. Thank you.”

  “It’s a plant!” Nora said, gesturing as I pulled the oddly shaped specimen out of the bag. “A real, living plant.”

  “So, it’s not one of those dirt cakes where this is really Oreos and the green stuff is frosting?”

  Nora cracked up again, shaking her head. “Baby brain has made you full of jokes. No, Lacey, it’s a Venus flytrap. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  “Perfect for Halloween,” I said, studying the small little opening that looked like the mouth of a monster. “To scare everyone away. How is this relevant to the baby?”

  “Because! You’ve been a little on edge lately, and I want to relax you. If you can take care of a plant, you’ll have no problem with a baby. Look”—Nora gestured lovingly to it—“this one even eats things.”

  “Yeah, like bugs,” I said, remembering one science lesson from fifth grade. “And I mean, it needs watering what, once a month? This is not exactly like caring for a child.”

  Nora narrowed her eyes at me. “Well it’s a start, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is,” Meg said, putting her arm around my shoulder. “I’ll help you. Can I be Venus’s godmother?”

  “You can adopt her,” I said, then at Nora’s hurt expression I shook my head and gave a wide and cheesy smile. “I’m kidding. Remember? Pregnancy equals Lacey full of jokes.”

  Nora laughed all the way to the door as she walked us out. Harold, the butler with the finely tuned English accent, stared down his nose in dismay at our trio. It was difficult to tell whether his disgruntled expression was focused on Nora’s mimosa mug or the live plant sprinkling dirt across his entryway.

  “What is that?” Harold asked. “And why are you leaving mud everywhere you go?”

  “It’s my preliminary baby.” I raised my eyebrows. “Would you like to be the godfather to Venus? Great.” I clapped Harold on the shoulder. “Meg’s the godmother, and you two will make a fine set of godparents.”

  Harold’s face went white as Meg launched into a complicated handshake that went immediately nowhere.

  “Great,” Meg said, recovering from the sting of Harold’s unreceptiveness. “It’s a solo handshake.”

  “Lacey, real quick before you go—” Nora leapt toward me and planted her hands on either side of my face. I stood perfectly still as she surveyed every inch of me from my forehead to my chin. “Drat. Drat! This is so difficult,” she muttered, letting me go. “You’re glowing.”

  “What are you talking about?” I could still feel the marks her fingers had left on my cheeks. “What were you looking for?”

  “Pimples. There’s not a single one—your skin is flawless.” Nora shook her head sadly. “That means Sprout is a boy, according to my Googles.”

  “Nora, you’ve got to let this guessing game go—none of these old wives’ tales are real.”

  “I suppose.” She sighed. “Have fun today, girls—and if you change your mind about donating urine, I have Drano on hand.”

  I pretended not to hear the last part as Meg and I climbed down the stairs and headed to our respective cars. In the back of my mind, however, I couldn’t seem to get rid of the ticking tally.

  Boy: 2.

  Girl: 1.

  OFFERING TO FOLLOW Meg to the police station was a mistake I wouldn’t be making anytime again in the near future. She drove like a rabid horse in the Kentucky Derby, spiraling out of control, bumping into things, and speeding through solid red lights.

  Luckily, I knew where the police station was located and could make it there on my own schedule.

  “I’ve been here for ten minutes.” Meg leaned against Patty, examining her nails as I heaved myself out of the car. “Where were you?”

  “Um, driving like a sane human being?” I brushed past her and headed into the building. “Are you coming with me?”

  Meg eyed the police station like it was gum on the bottom of her shoe. “Fine,” she said on a sigh. “But they’d better have coffee to go with the croissants I watched you shove into your purse. I need a snack.”

  I hiked my purse closer to my body, determined not to part with my loot. We made our way inside, asked for Officer Rocha, the detective who’d been the primary on Beckett’s alleged murder case, then sat down to wait.

  It was two croissants and three cups of coffee later when an unfamiliar detective arrived and called my name.

  “You’re not Rocha,” Meg said. “Who are you?”

  The man raised his eyebrows. “I’m Detective Rankle,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m the primary on the Bank of the Lakes heists. And you are?”

  “Meg,” she said simply, squeezing his hand tighter. “I’m well on my way to becoming a PI. Plus, I was also a cop. Pretty sure that makes me more qualified than you.”

  I gave her a light elbow to the ribs and stepped in front of Meg. “Hi, Detective,” I said, offering an apologetic smile. “I gave a statement yesterday on the case, and I’m here to add to it.”

  The detective stared hard at me for a moment, as if trying to recognize me from somewhere. I waited until it clicked.

  “You’re the very pregnant hostage,” he said finally. “I’m so sorry you were involved.”

  “You’ll be the one sorry you said that,” Meg said, probably feeling the temperature of my blood start to boil as my fists clenched at my sides. “Lacey doesn’t like being called very pregnant. She’s just normal.”

  “I just meant...” The detective started, then stopped. “I’m sorry. You said you have new information to add to the case? Let me show you to a more comfortable place. Can I get you something to drink?”

  I dared not ask for a water, otherwise I’d spend the rest of our time here running to and from the bathroom. I’d ingest my liquids later, in the comfort of my own home. Instead, I battled back the annoyance that came with essentially any physical activity and followed the detective into a small interview room.

  “Sorry about the formality,” he said, gesturing around at the blandness. “We don’t have much in the way of luxury around here.”

  “I know,” Meg said, eyeing him like a psycho. “I’ve been here before.”

  “Used to work here,” I corrected, before he got the wrong idea. “Anyway, she’s part of the reason I’m adding to my statement.”

  “I did not commit a crime—just to clarify,” Meg said quickly. “The light was yellow when my tires entered the intersection. That’s not considered running a red.”

  “Yeah, maybe the intersection three blocks back,” I muttered under my breath. Louder, I spoke to the detective. “As I mentioned yesterday, my friend called my phone while I was trapped inside the bank.”

  “Do you have a new description of the robbers?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I told you everything I can remember about the ladies. My point was that Meg here is the friend who called me. She...er, figured out I was in trouble and arrived at the scene of the crime right before the police did.”

  The detective nodded, his eyes traveling to Meg as she reached down and pulled my purse toward her. Without speaking, she removed the Venus flytrap from my bag where I’d shoved it on the way over here, placed the pot on the table, and began to slowly drip her coffee into the dirt.

  “It’s looking low energy,” Meg said. “Just needs a hit of caffeine.”

  I cleared my throat. “Well, Meg parked her car—”

  “Patty.”

  “You named your car?” The detective’s eyes narrowed as a slight bit of coffee leaked onto the interview table through the drainage holes in the pot’s base.

  “Of course,” Meg said. “She has a personality. Plus, you have to pat her a lot to get the engine started.”<
br />
  I couldn’t blame the detective for looking at us like we were a pair of nuts, so I focused on sounding uber-professional for the rest of my statement. “Well, she parked behind a huge white van. She doesn’t remember many details about it, nor does she remember the license plate or any other defining features—”

  “Except maybe there were a few letters on the side,” Meg said. “Possibly. Again, not sure. I was in a rush to see if I could get in on the media circus action. I’m great in front of the camera, you know.”

  “Of course,” the detective said. “And this van was important?”

  “It’s hard to say for certain, but possibly,” I said. “It careened out of there really quickly—so fast that it smashed up Meg’s vehicle on its way out. I’m thinking it belonged to the robbers.”

  The detective leaned back in his chair. He eyed Meg, then focused on me. “Didn’t I hear you say that your friend ran a red light on the way over here? Could it be...” He gently cleared his throat. “User error?”

  “I didn’t run a red.” Meg raised an eyebrow. “I strategically planned it so my tires were in the intersection as the light turned yellow.”

  “Look, I know it’s not super helpful,” I said. “It could be nothing, or it could be something. I just thought you should know in case you wanted to have a look at the car. Have you checked if there are security tapes in the alley out back?”

  “The bank’s security cameras were off for the duration of the heist. The only tapes we have are, ironically, the ones also leaked to the media.”

  “The alley where she parked,” I began, thoughtful. “Have you looked to see if a different building around there might have security cameras?”

  He digested this. “We’re handling it. Thank you for this new information. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “That’s not enough?” Meg pushed herself to her feet. “Don’t you need to look at my car or something? Maybe pay to have it fixed for me?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss—”

  “Meg,” she said. “Miss Meg.”

  “Miss Meg. We don’t provide those services, as you should know if you worked here.”

  “I just thought maybe you could help a sister out,” she said. “Thanks anyway. Are you ready to go, Lacey? I think Venus is halfway dead. Let’s stop by the plant doctor after the car doctor.”

  I pulled the leftover napkins from my rolled-up croissants and quickly wiped up the caffeinated dirt from the interview table. “Thanks for your time, detective.”

  “Thank you for the information,” he said, removing a card and sliding it to me. “Let me know if you remember anything else.”

  I nodded. At the door to leave, I hesitated. “Say, is there any real chance of the police recovering the stolen property? The ring of mine they took—it’s not valuable monetarily, but it’s priceless to me. An heirloom, really.”

  Detective Rankle gave me a tight smile. “We’re doing our best, Mrs. Luzzi. You’ll be the first to know. I’m fully confident we’ll have it retrieved for you in no time.”

  “What do you think?” I asked, once Meg and I made it outside the building. “Do you think they’ll find it?”

  “He’s a typical cop,” she said with a shrug. “Stuffy. Efficient. The kind of cop who gets promotions. I don’t know if he’s any good at what he does.”

  “I hope he’s right,” I mused as I beeped my car open. “I’d really like my ring back.”

  Meg’s eyes gleamed. “Did you forget about me? I’m becoming a PI, Lacey. I need hours for my gig. What do you say we, ah, do a little peeking around on our own time?”

  I rested my hands on my very large stomach. I had begun to understand why people thought I was very pregnant instead of just regular pregnant. “Probably not a good idea.”

  “Come on! Nobody will suspect you looking into things. Also, how do we know Detective Rankle is really trying his best? It’s not his priceless jewelry on the line.”

  I shook my head. “I’m voting no. We can ask around a bit, but no crime solving. No chasing bad guys. Nothing. If you get into that, you’re on your own.”

  Meg nodded. “Sure. Okay, fine then. Let’s go talk to Chance. He’s just the guy we need to see.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I mean, besides your busted-up car.”

  “She has a name, okay?” Meg lightly patted her vehicle, cementing the relevance of its name. “Also, think about it. I got a busted-up car. The robbers got a busted-up car. The robbers can’t just take their vehicle down to the Jiffy Lube and get it fixed up, you know? People are bound to ask questions.”

  Meg’s logic actually made sense, and I nodded along with her. “So, you figure we ask Chance if he’s heard rumors of any other under-the-table car guys getting a big busted van crossing their desks?”

  “Oh, I’m not thinking of asking,” Meg said with a wink. “I have a better idea.”

  Chapter 5

  THE MECHANIC’S SHOP was located in a smallish space just inside St. Paul city limits. It smelled of grease and oil with a twist of gas, and appeared mildly clean. Everyone we ran into from the second we parked to the minute we pulled open the main office door seemed to be in great spirits. One of the guys working even waved in our direction.

  We introduced ourselves to Chance and loosely explained the issues with Meg’s car. Namely, that said car was damaged pretty badly and would need a good bit of work before it looked in the realm of normal again. Chance seemed used to vague explanations and didn’t ask many questions.

  “Also, I need a favor for my best friend,” Meg tacked on after sliding her credit card across the counter and plopping Venus next to the cash register. “My best friend is Carlos Luzzi. Know the name?”

  “I’m, ah, familiar,” Chance said, eyeing me over Meg’s shoulder. “Hey, aren’t you that really pregnant lady from the news? The hostage?”

  I rolled my eyes and let my travel mug of herbal tea rest on my very big bump. “Sure. That’s me.”

  “She’s also Lacey Luzzi,” Meg said, waiting for the name to sink in. “Yep. The granddaughter of Nora and Carlos. I am thinking Nora mentioned something about a buy five get one free deal?”

  Chance nodded. “For her, but this is your first visit, so...”

  “We’ll pay,” I said, leaning against the counter. “But about this favor. We want to know if you or any of your buddies have seen a large, busted up white van in one of your shops.”

  “I’m assuming this is a favor for Carlos.” Chance looked down and doodled on a slip of paper in front of him, the silence answer enough. “I’ll let you know if anything turns up. Between you and me, nothing’s come into the system in the last few days. Although, sometimes these things take a while. None of us mechanics want to deal with a hot vehicle. Usually the, ah, owners realize that little fact and give things some time to cool down before bringing us work.”

  “I understand,” Meg said, winking unnecessarily. “Probably because I’m basically a vigilante at this point. I’m an ex-cop and current PI in training.”

  Chance visibly blanched at the ex-cop part.

  “Don’t worry, she’s an ex-cop. Big emphasis on the ex,” I said. I forked over my license to show him. “I’m really Lacey Luzzi. Carlos will appreciate the favor.”

  The color gradually seeped into Chance’s cheeks. “I’ll give you a call the second I catch wind of something. But if you let it slip that the tip came from me, my business with the whole family is finito.”

  “Of course,” I confirmed. “It’s private business, and we understand there’s a code. We are as discreet as they come.”

  At that exact inopportune time, Meg stepped too close to a row of tires perched against the wall and bumped an enthusiastic hip against the end one. As it started to topple, she lurched for it, missed, and watched with mild horror as the entire row toppled over with a clatter that would wake the dead.

  “Discreet,” I said dryly. “Thanks for sending that point home, Meg.”

  “I
think we’re about done with the car doctor,” she said, leaning over to retrieve Venus from his cozy little perch where he’d landed inside one of the tires. “Time for the plant doctor, eh? You’ll call me when Patty’s done?”

  Chance had a strained expression on his face when he nodded, and I heartily suspected that if Nora hadn’t brought so much business his way, we would’ve been tossed out the second we stepped foot in the place. Thank goodness my grandmother was a worse driver than Meg and I combined. The number of mailboxes alone she’d run over was enough of a felony to put her in prison for the rest of her days.

  We slunk quietly out of the mechanic’s shop, the hum of machinery lulling me into a pleasant buzz. My car sat across the lot, and as we slid into it, Meg waved over my shoulder at Chance. He ignored her.

  “Yep,” Meg said with a smile. “I think he likes me.”

  I clicked my car in gear. “Sure thing. Now, about this plant doctor,” I said. “What is it?”

  Chapter 6

  “OH, ISN’T THIS SO FITTING?” Meg squealed as I wheeled my car into the parking lot a few blocks away from home. It belonged to a little shop I’d never even noticed before, despite the fact that it was across the street from Dairy Queen. “They call it a nursery. Just like for babies! Your plant babies and your real babies.”

  “I don’t think this is a nursery for real babies,” I said, sliding out of the car and holding onto the door for leverage. The door creaked dangerously under the pressure, and I shot it a murderous glare. “Definitely a plant nursery.”

  “Venus is a baby, too,” Meg said with a sniff and a tilt of her nose. “Have a little tact, Lacey.”

  I rolled my eyes and followed her into the store. To my surprise, it was quite beautiful. How I’d never noticed this small haven inside the city limits, tucked just between the highway and the businesses of downtown, I couldn’t say.

  Greenery draped from trellises and plant stands while fall flowers bloomed in bright purples and reds and oranges. Little white blossoms sent a delicious scent wafting through the air as we made our way underneath the outdoor jungle and into the building.