by J R Pearson
Josie hit the floor. Tony lunged at Thomas, the gun skidding across the floor to her couch. The two men slammed to the ground. Josie quickly scrambled after the gun and, on wobbly legs, pointed it at Thomas. Tony had the upper advantage and punched Thomas a few times, knocking him unconscious.
Only Josie and Tony's rapid breathing could be heard in the apartment. Tony stood and turned to her.
"It’s all right now. You can put the gun down," he said.
Josie merely nodded, her whole body shaking and eyes wide. Tony gently took the gun from her and set it aside. He encircled his arms around her, willing his heart rate return to normal. Josie noticed a thin line of blood slide down his arm.
"Tony! You’re bleeding."
"He must have nicked me when he hit him." Tony lifted his sleeve. “It’s just a graze."
Detective Evans and a herd of officers poured into the small apartment, guns drawn. Evans eyed the unconscious Thomas, then Tony.
“I was expecting a lot worse," he shook his head. “You should let a medic take a look at that arm." Officers heaved Thomas to his feet and dragged him away. Josie picked up her camera, thankful it hadn't been damaged.
A picture had been taken. Onscreen appeared a partial shot of Thomas's red-rimmed eyes. She winced. Tony held her close again.
“I’m going to stick to taking pictures of food," she said, deleting the photo. She wished she could delete it from her brain.
***
A quiet evening cuddling with Petey. A grilled hot dog loaded with macaroni, bacon, and chives in a toasted bun with a glass of wine as big as her head was all that Josie wanted—no, needed.
It didn’t happen.
Instead, Aunt Kendra and her duck-watching group showed up with several pans of lemon-chicken-and-pasta bake. Which wasn’t so bad.
Until Josie's parents and brothers, including the twins, showed up.
"My baby! Are you all right? I know you told me you were okay over the phone, but I just had to see for myself! David! Get your head out the fridge and come kiss your daughter and show her that you care!"
"I do care!"
"Could’ve fooled me! You’ve got chicken on your chin! Oh, Josie, now you just have to move back. I’ve dusted your room and put fresh sheets on your bed. I’ve even got a roast in the crockpot that'll be ready by dinner."
It went on like this for many hours, with Josie continuing to ignore her mother's constant insistence on returning. At one point, her mother and Aunt Kendra joined forces. Thankfully, Jennie and Brad came by to help defuse the crazy women. Josie's attention soon focused on preventing the twins from installing security devices.
"It wouldn’t hurt to be prepared," Russell said. "Here, look. These babies can detect anybody that walks through the door and scan their blood type and DNA—"
"DNA?"
"Yep. And if it doesn’t match anyone on record, it’ll notify the cops. Cool, huh?"
Josie walked away from that and found her father asleep in her bed, clutching an empty chicken-bake pan.
Adding to the mix, Jennie's four older brothers and father arrived and soon all the men began to have an arm-wrestling tournament that turned into a giant dogpile. Petey stood on the coffee table—Josie hadn’t a clue as to how he got there—barking his head off, egging them on. Detective Evans stopped by to inform Josie about Thomas's status, not caring that twenty people and an instigating dog were all crowded in the small apartment.
"Thomas confessed to killing his wife, but he is convinced he didn’t actually commit the crime."
"That doesn't make any sense," Josie said.
"We have evidence that he strangled Amanda. That’s clean, clear, and done. But in his mind, he believes he didn’t actually do it. He'll be under psychiatric watch."
Josie grabbed a large spoonful of chicken pasta and collapsed onto the couch to watch her giant family wrestle, argue, laugh, smile, and eat. She sighed, thinking she wouldn’t have them any other way.
***
Josie and Tony were sitting on a bench at Greenville Lake, both feasting on thickly layered pastrami sandwiches with provolone on rye. They shared a bag of potato chips and a cup of pickle spears, silently watching geese and ducks fly and float by. People walked and rode their bikes around the lake’s path.
Food, good friends, and a fun job was what the future held for Josie. She was excited to continue her life in Greenville, and planned on working harder to expand Good Eatin’ for the Curvy Soul and be noticed by the executives of Forks and Knives. She liked having Tony around and would take one day at a time with him.
Tony, letting go of others’ harsh opinions of him, planned to put all his energy into making In The Box be the best bistro it could be, like his Uncle Sal had envisioned. Plus, it felt good to rekindle the friendship with a woman who never doubted him. He set his sandwich down, grabbed Josie's digital camera, and took her picture.
"Wait, what? Seriously, Tony?" She threw a chip at him.
"I’m thinking of starting my own blog," he smirked.
"Oh, really? I’ve got the perfect name: Tony Santino Being a creep dot com," she chuckled, then reached for her camera. “Let me see.”
The picture showed her mid-blink, cheeks stuffed with pastrami like a hamster, her eyes sparkling like the lake, and face glowing in the sunlight. Josie felt her face warm.
"Call it whatever you want. It’s going to be a hit," Tony said.
***
Yards away, disguised, Mike Santino watched his son and a woman he recognized from long ago. David's daughter. Josie, was it?
His son looked healthy and strong.
Mike didn't regret calling the police (with the anonymous tip) when that wrinkled old man trespassed onto his son's property. He knew it put him at risk, but he didn't regret it, seeing that it led his son and the cops to whoever the hell they were after. Mike readjusted his dark sunglasses and hat and turned away.
Stuff to do.
I'll be back, he thought.
Soon.
About the author
J R Pearson loves family movie nights, home-cooked meals, and reading cozy mystery books.