Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven. Luke 6:37 (ESV)
I frowned. What did that mean? Did that mean I was going to need forgiveness soon?
My panic ratcheted up a notch. Was God trying to tell me something?
I said a quick, “Dear Heavenly Father,” and launched immediately to the point. “What? What are you telling me here? If I forgive G-Ma, she’ll forgive me? For what? I mean, on both sides, what are we forgiving each other for?”
I waited for a divine revelation. I had nothing to forgive G-Ma for. Yes, she was difficult to deal with from time to time. Who wasn’t? I wouldn’t have taken her disrespect of Stump from anyone else, but still. G-Ma had been my rock all my life. She had given me the only stability I’d known in my life. She gave me sanctuary from Mom and all her men.
Mom.
I sat back on my heels, annoyed. I’d come in here looking for peace about the morning drive and God was springing the heavy stuff on me? That was hardly fair. It wasn’t even seven o’clock in the freaking morning yet.
Tony.
Okay, I knew I had nothing to forgive Tony for. Tony was nothing but good. He had lots to forgive me for. Tons. Things that were 100 percent my fault and that I had no decent excuse for. Things that had hurt him.
My mind spun, and I didn’t get it. I tried to bring G-Ma and the Lincoln back into the picture, figure out what all this had to do with each other. But it didn’t make sense.
Mom.
Tony.
Mom.
Tony.
Finally, I sighed and stood, blowing out the candle. “You’re going to have to be clearer than that, God,” I said. “All I’m asking is that you get me through the day without something happening to G-Ma’s car.” I didn’t want to deal with Mom or with all the stuff I’d done to hurt Tony. That was too much this early in the morning. Or ever, taken together. Those were two separate issues, and it was asking too much for me to deal with them both at the same time.
So instead of ending my morning prayer time comforted and at peace, I was mad at God. And not very happy with Mom, G-Ma, or Tony, unreasonable at that was.
Stump greeted me at her food bowl, sticking her nose in it and sniffing around elaborately to let me know there was not a scrap of anything to be found there.
“Sorry,” I told her. “We’re driving G-Ma’s car and I’m not filling your tank until we’re safely at the shop. Just in case.”
I kept the three towels in place and made Stump ride in the passenger seat all the way, so I could concentrate on safe driving. I honked at two people who looked suspiciously like they might be thinking of drifting into my lane. They both looked at me like I was crazy.
At Flo’s Bow Wow Barbers, I called Five Star Automotive and talked to Mrs. Pigg, explaining that I’d left the car on the street and what I needed done. She promised to look into it and call me back.
She called back a few minutes later. “Five will get the car repaired and inspected, but it’s going to take a few days because he has to order a part from out of state.”
“How many days?”
“It’s supposed to be here by Monday. He can put it in and give you the sticker the same day.”
I wanted to be mad and complain, but I remembered the scripture that morning. I didn’t want my unforgivingness to Five Star Excellent Auto to come back and bite me.
“That’s fine,” I said. “I can manage for a few days.”
“I’m really sorry. We’ll get it quicker if we can, of course.”
I hung up and went back to work on my dogs, my mind swirling with everything I had to contemplate. I had been asking for God’s guidance on mine and Tony’s relationship. I had, in fact, been thinking about it a lot, wondering where we were headed, how we could possibly get past everything that lay between us or if, in fact, we should even try.
That had nothing to do with Mom, though. Well, everything he had to forgive me for had to do with Mom, because it was mostly Mom’s fault that I had been such a dumpster fire myself, when Tony and I were married for real.
Maybe I needed to get Tony to forgive Mom for screwing me up so much. Maybe that was what God was saying.
I doubted it, though. In my experience, God worked pretty much one-on-one with His people. Plus, I was uncomfortable blaming Mom for choices I’d made, even though I could see very clearly how choices she’d made had gone into making me incapable of accepting that a guy like Tony could be for real. Her choices had done that for me.
So forgiving her, again? What more could I do? I’d made the decision to do just that, months ago, and I was where I was. I had spent two solid hours with her last weekend. I had smiled and done my best — such as it was — to play the happy family for her friends. I was spending the entire upcoming weekend with her and would do my level best to let love never fail all weekend long. That was as much as I was prepared to do at the moment.
I kept thinking about it until I got myself worked into an irritably tizzy, at which point Viv called.
“My car is fixed! I mean, it’s back from its routine maintenance. Let’s go interview some more people.”
I was only too happy to agree. “Let me check with Frank first and make sure he’s able to watch Stump.”
“You know, you could put her in the bathroom. Take up the rugs and stuff. She couldn’t do much.”
“Yes, she could. She’s chewed through three baby gates. The doors on my bathroom are thin plywood. She’ll claw through them and then I’ll have an open air bathroom. If Frank can’t watch her, I’ll have to skip it.”
Fortunately, Frank answered and was perfectly willing to spend yet another night in my recliner, curled up with Stump and the remote control.
I drove the Lincoln back to Trailertopia and tapped on Frank’s door to let him know it was time for him to come over to doggie-sit. He settled into the recliner with Stump, a bag of Doritos and the remote control.
I started a load of laundry, then headed back into the living room, tucking my phone into my pocket. “She doesn’t get any of those,” I said, pointing from the chips to Stump.
Frank gave me a halfhearted salute and Stump gave me a dirty look. He patted her and said, “Sorry, girl, but we gotta keep you safe. No junk food, and no getting caught in the crotchfire for you.”
I blinked slowly, then said, “Exactly. Listen, could you do me a huge favor? I don’t know how late we’re going to be back, and I’m afraid I’ll forget. I just started a load of work clothes in the washing machine. Can you toss them into the dryer for me, please?”
Frank gave me another salute and said, “You betcha, boss.”
I had very little hope he would remember. But it was worth a shot.
When Viv pulled up, she already had an idea of who she wanted to interview.
“Did you see that hot guy’s picture at the car lot Monday? Back on that shelf behind the counter? Let’s find him,” she said as we drove out of Trailertopia.
“Hot guy? No.” Five Pigg wasn’t ugly, but he certainly wasn’t hot. “Was it one of the other Pigg brothers?”
“Probably. He was wearing a black t-shirt with suspenders, and had this wicked bright grin. Try to find him on Facebook. Maybe we can get an idea of where he’d be hanging out on a Wednesday night.”
“I told you I know one of the son’s wives, right? I think his name is Randy. Something with an R. Oh, wait.” I remembered that Charlotte said they all started with R. “Anyway, I think she said he’s a firefighter. If this guy was wearing suspenders, it might have been him. Maybe we could go by the fire station and talk to him.”
“Oooh, excellent idea. God don’t make no ugly firemen.”
I entered “Pigg” into the Facebook search bar and flicked through the entries. There were several names, most of them female. I chose one that looked about the same age as the Pigg brothers would be.
“Destiny Pigg,” I said. “Okay, this has got to be true love,
to take that name. I’d at least hyphenate, like Charlotte did.”
“Salem Grimy-Pigg,” Viv laughed. “Yeah, that would be way better.”
“It’s Grimes, not Grimy,” I said, but I had to laugh with her. Destiny Pigg was cute, with chin-length blonde hair and a button nose. Her profile picture was of her and the Grimes brother and their three sons, each one blond and blue-eyed like her. I scrolled through her pictures.
“Oh, this is the football coach. Apparently he married the girls’ basketball coach. Oh, and she’s the cheerleading coach, too. I thought she looked like a cheerleader.”
“Is he the hot one?” Viv asked, leaning over to look at my screen. The car veered into the right lane and someone honked.
“Viv, eyes on the road,” I said, reaching to grab the wheel and keep us on course. “He certainly looks hot to me.” I held the phone so she could see it without taking her eyes too far off the road.
“Ummm, maybe. I think that might be one of the other brothers, though.”
“Okay, this one is Randy. Randy is married to Destiny, and they both coach at the high school where we turned the car around Monday. Make a note so we can keep them straight.”
I tapped a few more things.
“This must be another brother — yep. Robby Pigg. Good grief, he looks almost exactly like Randy Pigg. They aren’t twins, are they?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind being the peanut butter on that sandwich, though, let me tell you.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said mildly. I scrolled down and found Valerie Pigg, then clicked on her page.
Valerie was gorgeous but in a different way from Destiny. She had dark hair, brown eyes, full red lips, and a supermodel figure. Her profile picture was of her and Randy standing on a mountainside with a forest of aspens in blazing fall splendor behind them. They both wore All-American smiles and puffy down vests over white long-sleeved t-shirts. Gag. There was another picture of Randy in a suit and tie, either giving or accepting an award, I couldn’t tell which. “I’ll bet this is the insurance agent.” I held the phone back up for her to see. “Is this him?”
“I don’t think so. This one didn’t look so straight-laced.”
“Here he is. Ricky Pigg. Jeez-o-Peet. He’s maybe even better looking than the other two.”
“Not possible,” Viv said, leaning over again.
“Good grief, Viv, you’re going to get us killed. Pull over, and I’ll drive while you pant over pictures of hot Pigg men.”
“Deal.” She pulled into a Dollar General parking lot and slid out.
No slouch at Facebook investigations herself, Viv found Ricky Pigg’s wife, a short and cute Hispanic girl with a wide red smile. “This is the insurance salesman,” Viv said. “They’re all on here except the firefighter.”
“Then Charlotte must be married to the firefighter.”
Viv was silent for a while as she thumbed through the pages. “My my my…” She said softly. “It appears the Pigg brothers are fond of deep sea fishing in hot climates that require them to remove their shirts.”
“Don’t drool on my phone,” I said.
“I’m not making any promises. Come to mama, you hot young things.”
“Seriously, that’s a brand new phone,” I said. “Don’t defile it.”
“Okay, here we go. Roger Pigg is thirty-two — my favorite number — and married to Charlotte Clancy-Pigg, and he works at Station Thirty-Seven on Buena Vista.”
“We’re on our way,” I said, hitting the lever to activate the turn signal. Instead, the horn honked.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Hit the up button on the radio station to turn on the left blinker.”
“What? Why?”
“Because, it’s some — ” She waved a hand. “You know, like a keyboard shortcut or something.”
“What if I want to turn right?”
“Then hit the radio down button, of course.” She looked at me like I was wasting her time with my silly questions.
“Of course.”
Since Viv and I had been friends and started solving crimes together, she’d decided we needed to get legit and she had some business cards made. When I pulled up at the fire station and we walked toward the open garage door, I hoped fervently that she didn’t pull one of those cards out. They were eye-catching all right. There was a pair of handcuffs tossed haphazardly across the front of the card, and the words “Discreet Investigations” written in blood-red lipstick. It could have just as easily been an advertisement for a kinky escapade as it was a private eye agency. The general response to this card was a confused look and a half ‘is-this-a-joke?’ smile.
But of course, Viv was rummaging in her oversize tote for a card as we neared the door. She’d also, I noticed, unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.
As she’d said, God didn’t make no ugly firemen. Within seconds, all I could see were black t-shirts over stunning pectoral muscles. I tried to look away, but everywhere I turned there was another drool-worthy chest. And the faces. It was as if beefcake poster looks were one of the prereqs for applying to the fire department.
I finally had to settle for looking at the ground while Viv talked.
“We’re looking for Robby Pigg,” she said.
“Roger,” I corrected, examining a crack in the concrete.
“Yes, Roger Pigg. Is he on duty today?”
He was indeed. One of the guys called to him and he came walking out, drying his hands on a towel.
Charlotte was so lucky. Heck, that towel was lucky.
Viv held out one of those awful cards and introduced herself. “This is my partner, Salem Grimes.”
I nodded and grunted something unintelligible.
“We’re investigating the rash of robberies on this side of town, trying to interview everyone who might have seen or heard anything. We spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Pigg on Monday, and they mentioned that you had been robbed?”
“No, that was my brother. Ricky.”
“Oh, I see,” Viv said. She was good. I almost believed this was a real misunderstanding on her part, and I knew better.
As she talked, Viv cocked her head and leaned closer to him, giving him a view, should he want one, of cleavage. It was rather sad cleavage, but still. She laughed and flirted and kept asking questions while I stood there like Boo Radley, my tongue too big for my mouth. When my phone rang, I almost jumped out of my skin.
It was Frank. “So, when your washing machine gets through washing, is all of the water supposed to be out of it?”
“Do you mean, like does it drain out?”
“Right. Does it drain out?”
“Well…yes.” Of course.
“Oh, well then.” He sounded relieved. “I think your machine is broken. I wasn’t really sure, but yep. Sounds like it’s broken.”
I groaned. Of course it was. I had, after all, managed to keep half my emergency fund, which would maybe almost cover a new machine.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll be home in a little while.”
I hung up and tugged at Viv’s sleeve. “I need to go home,” I said.
“Now? They were just telling me about a meeting tonight at the community center. To discuss the robberies. We definitely need to go and gather more intel.” She smiled up at another fireman who stood with his arms folded across his chest. She put a hand up to the rounded bicep that strained against his t-shirt sleeve. “Will you be there? At the community center meeting?”
He nodded with an amused smile. “I should be.”
She nodded. “You definitely should be.” She stroked the curve of his bicep with one bony, liver-spotted finger before pulling her hand away.
“Viv, seriously, it sounds like an emergency.”
“Everything okay?” Roger Pigg asked, his body immediately stiffening.
“Yeah, no, I mean, it’s not that kind of emergency. It’s a — a laundry room emergency.”
“Oh.” He gave me a sympathetic grimace. “Sorry about that.”
Viv wasn’t thrilled with me when we got back into the car and drove away. “Seriously, you had to pull me away from all that testosterone for laundry?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to take care of this or I won’t have anything to wear to work tomorrow. Besides, those guys were too hot. I couldn’t look at them. It was like looking directly at the sun.”
“I could look at them all day.” Viv shook her head and sighed.
“You heard what that one guy said. He will be at the meeting tonight, and I’m sure a few of the others will, too.”
“That’s right. Shoot. I knew I should have had my legs waxed this morning.”
Back at Trailertopia, I pulled heavy, sopping wet clothes out of the washing machine and dumped them into a laundry basket. I wasn’t sure what to do about the water. I tried to let it spin again, without the clothes, to see if that would help somehow, but the machine wouldn’t even turn on. I finally got a plastic pitcher from the kitchen and drained the machine as much as I could, one pitcher at a time. Then I wrung out my sopping clothes over the bathtub and hung them up to dry. By this time I was also sopping wet and grumpy to boot.
I changed into dry clothes and came back into the living room.
“You’re wearing that?”
“Viv, I really don’t feel like going,” I said. “I’m tired and I need to figure out how I’m going to get my washing machine fixed.”
My phone dinged. I picked it up and saw a text from Tony.
“Community meeting on Clovis Highway in a little while. Is your grandmother going? I can take notes for her if she’s not able to.”
“Hang on,” I told Viv. “Let me get changed.”
After way too much consideration, I called G-Ma and asked if she wanted to go to the community center meeting with us. “They’re going to be talking about the Bandits, of course, and what the citizens can do to protect themselves.”
“Oh, I’m protecting myself, all right,” G-Ma said. “Little as I have to protect. I’m not going to sit here like a goose and wait for them to come cook me. Little as I have to be cooked.”
“You should come to the meeting tonight with me and Viv. You might even have a chance to speak, I don’t know. But it would be good, wouldn’t it, to hear what others are doing and to, you know…band together?”
Caught in the Crotchfire (A Trailer Park Princess Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 20