Drag Strip

Home > Other > Drag Strip > Page 24
Drag Strip Page 24

by Nancy Bartholomew

“Summonabitch,” she muttered. “That’s all we need.”

  I raised my head just a few inches and looked around. There was no sign of life in the street, but curtains twitched at all the windows of the surrounding trailers. Folks were used to Raydean’s antics.

  Five trailers down a door opened. Raydean lifted her gray-haired head from its resting place on the barrel of the gun and looked. Pat, the charter boat captain and my landlady, was about to face Raydean down.

  “Aw, Sierra,” Raydean whined, “now look what you’ve gone and done!”

  “Me?” Nailor was lying on me like a heavy carpet.

  “Yes, you. Now she’s coming. She’ll be carting me off to the mental health center for a shot and the next thing you know, I’ll be sitting in group therapy with some young chick social worker named Mavis, talking about what day it is and who’s the damn president. Shee-it!”

  Nailor snorted, stifling a laugh.

  “Don’t move,” I whispered. “It isn’t safe just yet.” Nailor’s body went limp against mine; well, sort of limp. “Raydean,” I said, “put the gun down, honey. You know how Pat is about weapons.”

  Raydean slowly lowered the shotgun. She stood there on her stoop, her stockings sagging down around her ankles, the pockets of her faded pink housedress stuffed with balled-up tissues and gun magazines.

  “First I got to contend with a Flemish invasion, and now I got to put up with her. It just ain’t fair.”

  Raydean was firmly convinced that the Flemish were alien beings. It was a delusion that, thus far, not even medication could remove. But Raydean is my friend, and a useful ally upon occasion, and if believing in a Flemish invasion is one of her minor quirks, well then let he who is without neurosis cast the first stone.

  Pat walked the length of the street, right out in the middle, like a gunslinger at high noon. She walked slow, probably because her arthritis was bothering her. At seventy, Pat was the only woman I knew who was still physically able to do the hard manual labor that comes of running a charter fishing boat. She is tenacious.

  Pat was taking in the scene, her snow-white hair gleaming in the early-morning sunlight, her work jeans on, yellow rubber gloves hanging off a tool belt that stretched around her ample waist. Pat wasn’t about to take any shit off Raydean.

  She strolled up, stopped, and looked over at Raydean, who had dropped the gun and was standing like a sullen schoolgirl at the top of her stoop.

  “Let’s go on now,” Pat said, her eyes never leaving Raydean’s face.

  “Tomorrow,” Raydean said.

  “You said that yesterday and where did it get us?” Then Pat looked over at Nailor lying on top of me, a long sigh escaping her lips. “If you two are going to monkey around, the least you could do would be to take it out of the gutter and into the bedroom. Why do you think trailer parks have such a poor reputation? Really, Sierra!”

  Nailor, sensing that the dangerous moment had passed, slowly rose up and helped me to my feet. My leg gave way again and I staggered against him, drawing the attention of both women.

  “Sierra, are you injured?” Pat asked quietly.

  “Naw, that’un’s taking advantage of her good nature and easy ways,” Raydean interjected.

  “I got shot,” I said.

  “In the line of duty?” Raydean’s antenna was aquiver at the possibility of further alien activity.

  “Yes, Raydean, in the line of duty. I was leaving work when someone shot another dancer and hit me, too.”

  Pat’s face grew worried. She sees herself as my surrogate mother and doesn’t particularly fancy my line of work.

  Nailor broke in. “I’m working on getting her inside and into bed,” he said.

  “Oh, I can see that!” Raydean crowed.

  Pat shook her head and motioned to Raydean. “Come on, honey. Let’s go. We’ll deal with Sierra’s situation later.” She meant afterward, after Raydean was back on the planet and calmer heads could prevail.

  I sighed and leaned heavily against Nailor. “You know,” I whispered, “in my condition, I really shouldn’t be left alone.”

  Nailor chuckled and I felt his arm tighten around my waist. Oh yes, I thought, I most definitely don’t need to be left alone.

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles

  by Nancy Bartholomew

  The Miracle Strip

  Drag Strip

  OVERWHELMING ACCLAIM FOR THE SIERRA LAVOTINI MYSTERIES

  DRAG STRIP

  “Will appeal to fans of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series.”

  —Booklist

  “What makes this book hum and whir—besides a sturdy plot—is a startling agreeable array of local crackpots, including a psychotic, but shrewd neighbor, an eccentric millionaire, and Sierra’s dazzling foolhardy mother.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “If you like stories with a sweet heroine and a nicely macho hero, you’ll definitely enjoy DRAG STRIP.”

  —Romantic Times

  THE MIRACLE STRIP

  “From the first page, I was captivated by the genuine and distinctive voice of Sierra Lavotini.… Fans of Janet Evanovich should love The Miracle Strip, which has my highest recommendation.”

  —Jeremiah Healy, author of The Stalking of Sheilah Quinn and The Only Good Lawyer

  “[Nancy Bartholomew’s] characters crackle to life and her tale moves without a false note and at a pace that should be the envy of many well-known writers in the field … Nancy is terrific. I look forward to her next novel and will consume it the day it arrives.”

  —Stuart M. Kaminsky, author of The Dog Who Bit a Policeman

  “Rapid-transit prose, wild characters, nonstop action, and frequent dramatic humor make this a pleasure to read.”

  —Library Journal

  “Fasten your seat belts because you’re in for a wild ride with this amazingly funny and suspenseful debut novel. Ms. Bartholomew has created a magnificent, take-no-prisoners heroine who is a true delight.”

  —Romantic Times

  Other titles from St. Martin’s Minotaur Mysteries

  MURDER WITH PEACOCKS by Donna Andrews

  A COLD DAY IN PARADISE by Steve Hamilton

  CROSSROAD BLUES by Ace Atkins

  ROMAN BLOOD by Steven Saylor

  TELL NO TALES by Eleanor Taylor Bland

  FAREWELL PERFORMANCE by Donna Huston Murray

  DEATH AL DENTE by Peter King

  JITTER JOINT by Howard Swindle

  LARGER THAN DEATH by Lynne Murray

  A GIFT OF SANCTUARY by Candace Robb

  THE SILLY SEASON by Susan Holtzer

  SEARCH THE DARK by Charles Todd

  EMERALD FLASH by Charles Knief

  DEAR MISS DEMEANOR by Joan Hess

  AGATHA RAISIN AND THE WITCH OF WYCKHADDEN by M. C. Beaton

  THE BEST-KEPT SECRET by Les Roberts

  THE IRISH COTTAGE MURDER by Dicey Deere

  BIG EASY BACKROAD by Martin Hegwood

  ROOTS OF MURDER by Janis Harrison

  THE COMPANY OF CATS by Marian Babson

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks is also proud to present these mystery classics by Ngaio Marsh

  ARTISTS IN CRIME

  BLACK AS HE’S PAINTED

  CLUTCH OF CONSTABLES

  LIGHT THICKENS

  DRAG STRIP

  Copyright © 1999 by Nancy Bartholomew Long.

  Excerpt from Film Strip copyright © 2000 by Nancy Bartholomew Long.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-22205

  ISBN 0-312-97579-1

  St. Martin’s Press hardcover edition / October 1999

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / October 2000

  eISBN 9781466856912

  First eBook edit
ion: October 2013

 

 

 


‹ Prev