A Case of Sour Grapes: A Cass Elliot Companion Novel (Cass Elliot Crime Series Book 3)
Page 35
“I hate those,” she said, slapping a ten spot on Babby’s desk and stalking to the door.
“I know,” I replied with a sweet smile.
Kay and Babby examined my super glued injuries and murmured approval. I sipped my extra large coffee from The Golden Gate and watched Babby slip the cinnamon swirl from the bag.
She took a bite and her eyes rolled. “Beautiful.”
“We might have to call off the pool on Maxine’s arrival time,” Kay said, peeking in the bag and taking the glazed. “If she can get here only forty-five minutes late after the trauma of the last few days, she’ll soon be coming in at eight like the rest of us.”
Babby licked her fingers. “I don’t think Maxine’s ready for that kind of consistency.”
“Hey,” I protested. “I’m right here.”
“Sorry, sugar pie. But timekeeping has never been one of your strengths.”
I thought about promising to do better, but Babby was right. I found a thick new binder on my desk. “What’s this?”
“Your study materials,” Kay said.
I groaned. “I have to learn all this to be a private investigator?”
“There’s more online, pookie.”
I lifted the binder’s cover and flipped through the pages, feeling mollified. The margins were wide and the type large. There were pictures. I could manage it.
The agency’s door opened and Cass came in, followed by Cindy, who put two ten dollar bills on Babby’s desk. “Arty says he’s out, but Steve still wants to play,” she said.
Cass chuckled. “Maxine’s arrival time?”
“Yes,” Kay said. “Want a half hour slot?”
“I’m a terrible gambler,” she said. “I just stopped by to fill y’all in. Yvette’s talking to Blue now.”
“Are you back on duty?” Babby asked.
“Not yet, but I think Chad’ll sign me off this week. Mitch is tied up with paperwork and asked me to come see you.”
“Have a donut,” I said, and held out the bag.
Cass took a plain glazed and passed the bag to Cindy, who pulled out a chocolate glazed in triumph. “You said you got me a cake donut,” she said.
An apple fritter and the cake donut were all that remained. I took the apple fritter, pretty sure the cake donut would end up in the trash. “So?” I asked Cass.
“Big Billy Garcia is gone.”
“What?” four voices chorused.
“Two US Marshals plucked him right out of the county jail last night and whisked him into witness protection.”
“I guess that’s what he bargained for,” I said. “But it’s annoying that I don’t get to press assault charges.”
“What about Oscar?” Kay asked.
“There’s some dispute going on between Homeland Security, the DEA, and the FBI over who gets first crack at him, but he’ll be gone, too. Probably this morning.”
“And Sugar Murphy?” Babby asked.
“He’s still in the hospital with a mild concussion, and he hasn’t said a word. Martinez tried to convince him to talk last night, told him Big Billy was singing the “Hallelujah Chorus”, but he’s staying mum. The DEA’s taking a shot at him this morning.”
“Silly thing,” Cindy said. “Will they put him in witness protection, or let him go to prison based on Big Billy’s testimony on whatever charges the FBI or DEA presses?”
“I have no idea, but he won’t be a guest in the Forney County jail for long.”
“Is there no justice for the locals?” Kay asked. “Don’t we get to prosecute them for breaking and entering, property destruction, and assault?”
“The DA might try to roll our charges up with the DEA’s, but in the great scheme of international drug trafficking and murder, will they care about the petty stuff that happened here? Probably not.”
“It’s not petty to me,” I grumbled.
“That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling,” Babby said, peeking at the cake donut.
“What about Will?” I asked.
“We keep him,” Cass said. “Sammy’s filing murder charges this morning. He’s dropping all charges against Blue.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Kay said. She lifted her coffee cup in a salute. “We did what Blue asked us to do, which was help her find the real killer. But special kudos to Maxine and Cass.”
I really, really wanted all that praise for myself and Cass, but if this Lost and Found thing was going to work, I’d have to learn to be a team player. Starting now. “Truth is,” I said, “if it weren’t for Cindy and her database digging, it would’ve taken us a lot longer to figure out that Bret was leading multiple lives.”
She preened, as I knew she would, and it felt right.
“And,” I continued. I’d thought about this overnight and while it hurt, knew humble pie was on today’s menu. “I need to apologize for taking a case when I’m not licensed. I thought it would be a simple matter of finding a spouse who didn’t want to be found, but it turned out to be a lot more.”
“It did indeed,” Kay said. She looked at her nails, her face tense. “I have to say that I’m proud of you, punkin. If you’d let things go after you found Bret, we’d have the wrong woman in jail and worse, Will might be out there killing Bret’s other ex-wives.”
“Hear hear,” said Babby. “But don’t do it again, okay, sweetheart?”
I nodded and Cass stood to go.
“Lunch?” I asked.
She lifted the cover of my binder. “On your first day of studying? I wouldn’t miss it.”
Aunt Babby took the cake donut from the bag, studied it, and then took a bite. She chewed and nodded. “I’m off to the post office and the bank. Given that it’s hot enough to fry chicken outside, I'll be driving.”
THE TEST
I SPENT THREE HOURS alternating between studying, posting invoices and client payments, and working through the backlog of paperwork. The whole time, I eavesdropped on Kay’s phone calls. There was a little variety. More missing people. Some who had been found. A few days of mystery shopping, which might be fun, depending on the shop. Some forensic accounting. And the ever-present insurance work. My black eye was throbbing and my spirits sinking by the time lunch rolled around.
“Does it ever change?” I asked. “Or is it always this boring?”
“Most of it’s repetitive, peanut.” Kay smiled sympathetically. “But we do get the occasional request for protection services or investigating corporate espionage. Depending on the client, that can be very exciting.”
“Espionage? Like bugging? Spy stuff?” This sounded promising.
“Sometimes. How’s the studying coming?”
“I’m making progress.” I stood and stretched, relishing the pops my spine made. “But I could use a break.”
“Call Cass and grab some lunch. Go to Chubby’s, get a chocolate shake, and try to pick up some gossip. You’re too thin and you need more contacts in town.” She looked me up and down and I nodded but didn’t commit. Kay was still right.
“The invisible people?” I asked.
“You’re learning, angel. I’ll be back. No phones, right?”
“Right.”
Kay headed for the powder room and I checked the clock. Almost noon. Cass would be done with physical therapy and because I hadn’t heard from her all morning, extremely unhappy because Chad still hadn’t released her to go back to work. Not that I blamed him. She needed a little more time to heal. But only a little.
I pulled up her number and just as I was about to dial, the phone rang. Not my phone, the office phone. I looked towards the powder room. No Kay.
Please believe me when I tell you that I hesitated.
I debated.
I considered the pros and cons.
But in the end I snatched up the handset and in my most professional voice said, “Lost and Found Investigations. How can I help you?”
I couldn’t help it.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
&nb
sp; Writing this book was a blast, but it wouldn’t have happened without prompting from the real life Babby, Cindy, and Kay. They’re not detectives (although they could be), but they helped spark the idea of Lost and Found Investigations when Maxine Leverman walked out of her debut role in Avengers of Blood and decided she wanted a book of her own (characters do that sometimes). To Kay, Babby, and Cindy, many thanks for letting me totally rewrite your lives. I hope I’ve done you justice as the awesome women of Lost and Found, and that Forney County will offer up many mysteries for your alter egos to pursue.
Thanks again Kathy Shelton for your sharp eye and attention to detail, and for the bump on the title. And even more thanks for letting me know you laughed in all the right places - that, as much as anything, keeps me going.
Jeff and Dan, thanks for your comments on Maxine’s visit to the gun range and keeping me in line on terminology. All errors are mine alone, and if you find any, please don’t give up on me. I’m trainable. Really.
To those readers who picked up this book by an unfamiliar author, you have my sincere gratitude. Reading time is precious and for most of us, far too limited. It’s tough to take a risk with your time and hard-earned cash on an unknown author and set of characters, but I hope you’ve enjoyed reading A Case of Sour Grapes as much as I enjoyed writing it. For more on the good (and bad) characters in Forney County, check out the rest of the Cass Elliot Crime Series.
As was the case with my earlier novels, the idea behind A Case of Sour Grapes was sparked by events from real life. If you want to know more about the origins of this story, visit GaeLynnWoods.Blogspot.com and check out the following post, Genesis of a Novel: That Dirty Rotten Lousy Stinking No-Good Dog of a Man. (Yeah, the title kind of gives the post away, but it’s a good read, nonetheless.)
To the women in my life who’ve suffered at the hands of a cheating spouse: rock on. Your grace, courage, and resiliency are amazing and an inspiration. I know with absolute certainty that there’s more joy to come in your future stories than you can imagine. Keep hanging in there.
Gae-Lynn Woods
May 2015
p.s. The folk punk band name Poison Ivy and the Dismembered Bunnies arose because (1) poison ivy jumps on me from great distances and I was itching as I was writing, and (2) our rescue kitty, The Dude, was wreaking havoc on the bunny population in East Texas as I was writing. Enough said. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. On a positive note, bunnies are again hopping through the yard and eating my garden. Perhaps The Dude and the bunnies have reached a truce. Only time will tell.
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