“Roz, look at this,” I said, barely able to believe what I was seeing.
Roz bent down for a closer look. She blinked. She looked at me. “A tattoo? On a cat?”
“Who would tattoo their pet? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Do you think it’s an address?”
“I don’t think this is someone’s pet,” Roz said. “I’m thinking this cat and those monkeys shared a home, if you catch my drift.”
I stood up and stretched my legs, since my forty-five-year-old knees didn’t work well in the kneeling position. “Meadowland Labs? You think this is a lab cat?” I looked down at the pitifully stoned animal. He looked so helpless. Those goombahs were really starting to get my dander up. Drugging cats, pointing guns, calling me Snoopy.
Roz and I decided to move the cat to my garage, making a comfortable bed for him out of an old discarded gift basket and a handful of old rags. We left food and water and then closed him in to keep him safe. Then we stood silently on my driveway, staring out at our once quiet and safe White Willow Circle.
“You know,” I said finally, “it’s like we’ve found a table piled high with a jumbled mess of puzzle pieces.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, “and we need to put them together to see what the picture is.”
Life in our cozy neighborhood had gone scarily awry. An evil element had reared its ugly head and I had innocently put myself smack dab in the middle. Common sense would say I should be afraid, run for cover while criminals lurked in my backyard and the men in my life seemed to be going off the deep end. Of course, I had already determined that my common sense brain cells had hit the road—left me for dead. Besides, I had made a commitment. I was not going to be one of those wimpy women who run away and hide. There would be no cowering for this chick. I was going to pull myself together, be brave and fight. Problem was, I needed to know what I was fighting. So, while Colt was upstairs doing his own thing, Roz and I hatched ourselves up a little plan.
Chapter Thirteen
BY THE TIME COLT CAME back downstairs, it was almost 2:15 in the afternoon. Roz and I had orchestrated a simple, but somewhat daring, course of action. One that did not include Colt. Correction. The plan included Colt—he just didn’t know it.
“Okay, ladies,” he said as he sauntered into the kitchen. “Let’s get this show on the road. Curly, we should call that hotel and see if we can get you and the girls a room. I’d like to see you settled in before I head out.”
Roz was sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea and munching on pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies while I filled the dishwasher with the dirty breakfast dishes.
“It’s done,” I said. “I called while you were upstairs. Callie will be getting home soon, and then we’ll drive over, pick up Bethany and Amber from school and head over to the hotel. I’m going to go pack some things when I’m done here.”
“Good,” he said rubbing his hands together. “I’ll ride over with you guys, make sure you have everything you need. Then I can catch a cab from there to the airport.”
“So,” said Roz. “You’re still going back to L.A.?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely. So! Let me help you pack,” he said evasively.
“I could give you a ride to the airport—then you won’t have to pay for a taxi. When does your flight leave?” Roz offered, winking at me when Colt had his back turned.
“No! I mean, thanks, but no, really. I have no idea how long it will take to get them settled, and I don’t want to put you out. Late, too—the flight, I mean—it’s a late flight out. Thanks for the offer, though.” Colt might have been an above-average detective, but he was a lousy liar. He turned to me. “Where do you keep your suitcases? I’ll get a couple out for you.”
“Guest room where you’re staying—in the closet,” I said. He rushed off, avoiding further discussion. Just as we suspected.
“I don’t think he’s going to the airport, do you?” asked Roz.
“Odds a million to one that he’s not.”
“Let the show begin,” she said with a devilish grin.
Our plan had several layers. First, Roz would run home and check county tax records online to see if she could dig up a name for the owner of House of Many Bones. Colt had told me that most counties were online with real estate tax records and at the very least, we might get a name. She didn’t have loads of time for researching, however, since she was also involved in Step Three of our plan. Thank goodness, her husband Peter had taken the day off to fix a grumpy sump pump, so he would be home to watch her kids when they got off the bus.
The one thing we both agreed on from the outset—no more snooping around House of Many Bones. Colt was right—these guys had guns and didn’t seem afraid to use them. No reason to put ourselves or our children in harm’s way. I had no intention of running into Elvis and Pug Mug, or their firearms, a second time.
We had reached Peggy, still running errands, on her cell. Her mission, which she chose to accept, was Step Two in the scheme. She would Google Tito Buttaro as soon as she got home and find out all she could, then wait for Roz to call her with further instructions. I was to get to the Wildwood Suites with my girls and stall Colt as long as I could, waiting for Roz, who would know I was there because I would text her the moment we arrived.
That was the third part of our plan. Roz would get herself placed inconspicuously after receiving the text message, so that when Colt left, she could follow him and find out what he was up to.
I knew he wasn’t leaving town—he was sticking around for some reason. Probably to do some investigating on his own. Based on what Roz had told me, I figured he was onto something and wanted to continue on his own. My assumption was that Howard had convinced him to leave town, but he’d decided to stay after the cat and note incident. Maybe he had some inside info on the Mafia that he could work with. I couldn’t be sure, though, because one never really quite knew with Colt, so we would follow him and find out for ourselves. Of course, we could be way off base, and Roz might just end up following him to the airport, but only time would tell us that. We considered the Colt surveillance to be the most crucial part of our master plan, assuming he’d be unwittingly dropping clues in our laps as we followed behind.
Last, but certainly not least, I was going to keep my dinner date with Howard. While pretending to be one of Charlie’s Angels was jolly good fun, saving my marriage was definitely more important. That evening’s romantic dinner at Fiorenza’s could prove to be the start to my happy ending. I had packed his favorite dress just for the occasion—a silky little blue number that hugged my body in all the right places, and showed off my best asset—sexy legs. I was always guaranteed a night of bedded bliss when I wore it. Goodbye, Marjorie Smith.
The timing for this plan was crucial, because we all had kids arriving home from school and Roz had a Cub Scouts meeting at seven. We had perfect faith it could be done, however, because as mothers, we already knew the fine art of juggling soccer practices, piano lessons, Karate, ballet, after-school Spanish, and homework, all while making sure that dinner and bedtime came at a reasonable hour. This would be a piece of cake in comparison.
My stomach growled while I was packing Amber’s and Bethany’s clothes into the smaller of two black Tourister suitcases. I remembered that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. My body didn’t like that. I didn’t want to stop for a break, though, since Callie would be off the bus any minute. I did not look forward to telling her about our short-lived move to the local hotel. She was prone to teenage hormone attacks, the likes of which I’d never seen before. One minute, an angel from heaven, and then KABOOM! At the least little change or unplanned upset to her routine, the claws would come out, her teeth turned into fangs and she would transform into the fire-breathing, teen from Hell. It was like watching Bruce Banner turn into the Incredible Hulk. I’m told I did the same thing to my mother. I don’t believe it.
Colt had barely unpacked the few things he had brought with him, so his job was quick. I found him on his laptop at my
kitchen table when I came downstairs declaring I was finished and almost ready. I had to put down enough food and water for Indiana Jones and then all we had to do was wait for Callie.
“You know,” I said, scooping dry cat food into Indy’s dish, “I just realized, Howard is expecting to pick me up here at seven tonight for dinner. I can’t have him meet me at the hotel. He’ll get suspicious.” I already knew that I was going to need to call him and have him meet me at Fiorenza’s instead, but I just wanted to test Colt, to see if he acted weird or suspicious.
“Yeah. You should call him. Tell him you’ll meet him there, instead,” he said, eyes still glued to his laptop. Okay, nothing suspicious there, I thought. Callie’s school bus brakes squealed so loud I could hear them all the way down to my house, so I knew she was going to be walking in the door anywhere between one to five minutes, depending on if it was a fast-Callie day or a slow-Callie day.
I quick picked up the phone and dialed Howard’s cell, to change the meeting arrangements. No answer. I left a message. I decided to call his office, as well. His office was a high-security part of the contracting firm he worked for, so all calls went through an automatic system with a series of menus which then always put me straight into his voicemail. I’ve never been able to reach him at work directly, which is why I always try his cell phone first. I had just left the message on his work voicemail right when Callie walked in the door. I heard the door slam shut, followed by several loud thumping noises, which, from experience, I knew to be her backpack, her coat, her purse and her lunchbox all landing on the foyer floor. Right smack dab in front of the door. Ten thousand times I’ve told her not to leave her things right in the middle of the floor, and ten thousand times she always leaves her things right in the middle of the floor.
After the thump, thump, thump . . . thump, it was quiet for about three seconds, then, “Mo-om! Why are these suitcases here? Has another one of your old boyfriends decided to drop in on us?” Oh, boy. This was looking like it could be a teen from Hell day. Why? Why couldn’t it be an angel-sent-from-Heaven day? I brainstormed a last-minute lie. “The heat is out and it’s supposed to go down below freezing tonight. I booked us a room for tonight at the Wildwood Suites in Herndon. They have a thirty-two inch plasma TV!” I yelled from the kitchen. “Cool!” she said. Whew! Dodged that bullet. I had learned early in motherhood the deft skill of the spur-of-the-moment lie. They’re really just little white lies—harmless—and they’re essential to making a mother’s life easier. All mothers know this, whether they admit it or not.
Colt put everything in the van while I did a last-minute check of the house, leaving certain lights on to make it look like we might be at home, making sure all faucets were off and not leaking. Then I locked up and drove us to Tulip Tree Elementary to pick up Bethany and Amber.
Pulling into the parking lot at Tulip Tree, I considered myself lucky to find one of only three visitor parking spots available. Considering that a good omen, I skipped quickly up a short flight of concrete steps to the glass double doors that opened to the school lobby. Just to my right was another set of glass double doors leading to the main office. I pulled the door open, stepped in and was immediately greeted by my most favorite public school employee ever—Mrs. Sanchez. Mrs. Sanchez was the receptionist as well as assistant to the principal. She was probably also the happiest woman I have ever met. Her face was brown and perfectly round like a basketball, and her cheeks were chubby and rosy, almost like a Hispanic Mrs. Claus. I had never seen Mrs. Sanchez without a genuine and toothy smile on her face.
“Meesus Marr!” she called out when she saw me enter. “How are joo too-day?”
“I’m good, Mrs. Sanchez. And you?”
“Oh, joo know me—I’m always joost fine. We already see your hoosband today when he came in for lunch weeth your girls! He’s sooch a handsome man! Looks just like that George Clooney.”
I was more than a little surprised. “Howard was here?”
She nodded her head to confirm. “Jes.” she said, grinning from ear to ear.
I stood, confused for a minute, and considered taking a peek at the sign-in log for visitors, when Bunny Bergen floated by me. Bunny Bergen was a parent volunteer in the front office. Six feet tall, model figure, manicured nails, flawless skin that never went without being perfectly made up. What I found more disgusting than her perfect features was her name. I never understood how a grown woman could continue to go by the name Bunny. In fact, I found it so ridiculous that I never actually said her name out loud.
“Hellooooo, Barb!” she oozed.
“Hi . . . there. How are you?” I responded uncomfortably, wanting to get myself to that sign-in log.
“I’m soooooo sorry to hear about that problem of yours!” She ended her sentence in hushed tones like she was keeping a secret for me. I immediately assumed she was referring to the fact that Howard had moved out, which made my ears perk up, because the only two people who were supposed to know were Roz and Peggy. Not at all happy, I was about to be really rude and ignore her altogether, when she continued on. “It’s really too bad about your Uncle Guido going crazy, but don’t worry. We’ll keep an eye out for him. We won’t let him near those girls of yours!” My Uncle Guido? The bewilderment I was feeling must have been written all over my face. I couldn’t even respond. Who was Uncle Guido? And why had he gone crazy? Mrs. Sanchez, observing the entire conversation, had her hands on her head while she shook it back and forth.
“Mees Boony, Mees Boony!” she said, trying to get Bunny’s attention. “Shhh! I so sorry, Meesus Marr.” She got up from her seat, grabbed Bunny Bergen by the waist—she barely came up to Bunny’s middle section—and ushered her away from the front desk, whispering something I couldn’t hear. I saw Bunny put her hand to her mouth, looking like she’d said something she shouldn’t have. Still befuddled, I took two steps over to that sign-in log. There was his name—Howard Marr. Reason for visit: Principal. Howard had come to see the principal? My heart was picking up its beat when I became aware of an increasing amount of activity in the lobby. I looked at my watch. School would be getting out soon and I had a schedule to keep. Mrs. Sanchez returned to her seat and smiled at me as if nothing had happened. “Can I help you, Meesus Marr?”
“Um . . . yes, I’m here to get Bethany and Amber for early dismissal. Could you call them out of class, please?”
She bobbed her head happily. “Jess, jess. I can do that for you!”
I waited in the lobby for Bethany and Amber. They arrived at the same time, happy, as I knew they would be. “Mommy!” Amber squealed with glee as she bounded down the steps to the parking lot. “Daddy came for lunch! Isn’t that cool?”
“Yes, I heard. Very cool. Too cool.” I wanted to tell Colt about Howard’s surprise visit to the principal, spreading rumors about my imaginary Uncle Guido, but I couldn’t do it with the girls in the car. I pulled out of the parking lot just in time to miss the arrival of the school buses.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the Wildwood Suites in Herndon and I parked my van. While I stood at the reception desk checking in, receiving keys and directions to our room, Colt and the girls sat on comfy pastel, floral sofas in the lobby. I was just getting the last of my vital hotel information when Amber shouted, “Grandma!” My head spun around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
“Barbara!” My mother shouted from the hotel entrance. She opened her mouth, about to speak again, when her eyes caught sight of Colt. Her eyes squinted and fixed on him suspiciously. “Coltrane Amadeus Baron. What are you doing here?”
The girls giggled. “Coltrane Amadeus?” laughed Callie. “Your parents didn’t like you very much, did they?”
Colt smiled. “It’s a family name,” he said.
“What—the Addams Family?” she guffawed. The truth that very few people knew, because Colt didn’t want them to, was that Colt came from old European money, reinvested in the California gold rush. The house he’d grown up in was actually a mansion near
Santa Barbara, complete with an expansive marble foyer, thirty rooms, Olympic-sized swimming pool, and martini-drinking, charity-event-attending parents. He was the black sheep and my mother did not like him one bit. He didn’t let that stop him. He picked himself up from the sofa and moved smoothly to my mother, took her right hand, and kissed it gently. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Pettingford. I’m here visiting your lovely daughter, of course.”
“Don’t waste your time, Coltrane,” my mother hissed. “I got your number a long time ago, young man.”
“Mom!” I shouted. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” she asked.
“Show up, all the time, even when I’m not at home! How do you do it?” I was practically shaking. The last thing I needed was my mother coming along to screw up our well-laid plans.
“Well, I was out and about running errands when I realized I was right behind you on Herndon Parkway. I can tell it’s your van by that big dent on the right side of your bumper—you really do need to get that fixed you know. It will rust and then . . .”
“Mom! Did you have to follow me in here?”
“Why? Is there a problem?”
“Our heat is out,” piped Amber. “That’s why we’re here. We’re going to watch TV on a big screen and order in junk food!”
“Your heat is out? Why should that matter? It seems awfully warm.”
“Nope,” said Bethany shaking her head very seriously. “We will be having a freeze tonight—Mommy says.”
“My goodness,” my mother said, throwing a fist to her hip, letting me know I had failed in an obviously simple task. “Why didn’t you just call me, Barbara? My man Jerry always comes right out—he’ll be at your place in an hour. He’s the best in town. I’ll call him right now.” She started digging in her purse for her cell phone. I shot Colt a panicked look.
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