Another Saturday Night and I Ain't Got No Body (A Page Turners Novel)

by Marts, Jennie

  Another Saturday Night and I Ain't Got No Body

  Jennie Marts

  Copyright © Jennie Marts, 2012. All rights reserved

  KINDLE EDITION

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1480211384

  ISBN-10: 1480211389

  Cover and book design by

  THE KILLION GROUP

  www.thekilliongroupinc.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Acknowledgments

  Author Bio

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the three most important people in my life.

  For Todd:

  My love, my best friend, my hero, and my knight in shining armor.

  Thank you for ALWAYS believing in me.

  For Tyler and Nick:

  The greatest accomplishments of my life.

  My love for you is endless.

  Never give up on your dreams.

  1

  The recipe for disaster began innocently enough with a phone call during a lazy summer morning while Sunny Vale sat on the sofa reading a book. Throw in a dash of dramatic eighty-year-old woman with a fondness for reality crime television, and mix with a midnight arrival of one hunky stranger. Spice it up with an automatic weapon, and the disaster entrée was nearly complete.

  “Edna, are you sure it was a gun?” Sunny asked, used to her neighbor’s tendency to exaggerate. She was anxious to get back to her latest romance novel and the bag of Cheetos she was munching on before the phone rang.

  “Yes, Sunny, of course I’m sure,” her neighbor replied. “I might be old, but I never miss a CSI. I’m telling you, I saw a man, with a gun, breaking into Walter’s house last night!”

  “Okay, I’m listening.” Sunny licked the orange dust from her fingertips, and set her book on the coffee table. She looked longingly at the cover photo of the muscular, bare-chested pirate who held a sword in one hand and a raven-haired beauty in the other, her well-endowed bosom bursting from her corseted bodice. Heaving a boringly B-cupped sigh, she half-wished Edna really had seen a gorgeous gun-toting stranger. He might add some much needed excitement to her ordinary life. Not that teaching second graders how to read and write didn’t have exciting moments, but it sure didn’t compare to an affair with a sword-wielding pirate.

  “Why were you up in the middle of the night anyway?” Sunny asked, now resigned to hear the whole story. So far, her Saturday morning consisted of coffee, Cheetos, and fantasizing about a pirate fling. Edna’s story could only add one more facet to her exciting day.

  “Because of that damn pepperoni pizza we ate last night. I got up around midnight and was looking out my kitchen window, chewing on some Maalox, when I saw this dark-colored sports car pull up in front of Walter’s house,” Edna said, referring to the house that sat between them. “Then this scruffy haired young punk climbed out and stretched like he’d been driving for a long time.”

  “Young, like a teenager?”

  “No, young like you. Mid-thirties or so.” Everyone seemed young to Edna, who had just celebrated her eightieth birthday by learning the Samba and going on a singles cruise. “Anyway, after he stretches, he reaches into the car and pulls out a duffel bag, then a gun that he tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Which, by the way, he filled out quite nicely.”

  Sunny chuckled as she pictured Edna in her robe and favorite pink, fuzzy slippers, the words Sassy and Girl embroidered on each in glittery silver lettering. She imagined her, peering out her kitchen window, her tongue working the chalky antacid from her teeth, as she checked out a hunky, mysterious stranger’s arrival in the middle of the night. “So, did Walter let in this young, gun-wielding punk with the nice tush?”

  “No, that’s just it. Walter wasn’t even there. This guy snooped around the house and garage then found Walter’s hide-a-key by the front door and let himself in. And this morning, his car is gone, like he was never even there.”

  “Maybe Walter knew he was coming and told him to let himself in.” Sunny shifted to pull her legs free from under Beau, her golden retriever, who was lying across them on the sofa. Both her legs and the dog were asleep, and Sunny and Beau each groaned as she stood and headed for the kitchen.

  “I doubt it,” Edna said. “I got to thinking about it and realized I haven’t seen Walter in days. Have you?”

  Now that Edna mentioned it, Sunny couldn’t remember the last time she had seen their mutual neighbor. Walter’s wife, Betty, died several years ago, and he seemed to finally be adjusting to life as a bachelor. He was an avid gardener and still quite fit for a man in his late seventies. The big white door to the garage behind his house often stood open all day, the radio set to an oldies station, as he putzed around the yard or tinkered at fixing one thing or another.

  With the school year ending for summer, Sunny hadn’t paid much attention, but she couldn’t recall the last time she had noticed the garage door open. “I don’t think I’ve seen him lately, either. Not even working in his yard.”

  “We usually have coffee once a week or so, but this last week I was so busy with those new Italian cooking classes, I never found the time. And now this strange guy lets himself into Walter’s house. I just know there’s something fishy going on here.” Edna’s voice climbed up an octave.

  Sunny rinsed her coffee cup in the kitchen sink as she studied Walter’s house. The yellow and white ranch style home looked peaceful, the gardens full of colorful flowers reaching for the June morning sun. A sudden movement caught her eye as a figure emerged from the corner of the house and stooped to look into Walter’s front window.

  “Edna, get away from that window!” Sunny cried, knocking on the kitchen pane.

  Edna jumped and dropped the cell phone she had pressed to her ear as she looked over at Sunny, a startled expression on her face. “Gosh dangit, I dropped the phone.”

  Edna’s voice sounded muffled as she bent to search through Walter’s petunias. She didn’t even have the gall to look guilty.

  “Get out of Walter’s flowerbeds!” Sunny yelled. Edna reached down and plucked the phone off the ground. She waved it at Sunny with a triumphant shake before putting it back against her ear.

  “Edna, what are you doing over there?”

  “I’m trying to gather evidence,” she explained, as if Sunny were the ridiculous one versus the woman spying into her neighbor’s window like a wrinkled, geriatric Nancy Drew. “His car is in the garage so he might be in there, hurt or bound and gagged.”

  “Well, what are you gonna do if he is
? Break down the door? Get out of there. You’re trampling Walter’s flowers. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “Humph.”

  Sunny heard the older woman’s grumble and imagined the eye roll that accompanied it, but Edna did get out of the flowers and start back to her own yard.

  “I’m heading to the grocery store,” Sunny told her, ready to move on from this ridiculous notion of a neighborhood break-in by a gun-toting hunk. “Do you need me to pick up anything for you?” A fingerprint kit, a secret decoder ring, a sane thought, perhaps?

  “No honey, I’m fine. I just went yesterday,” she replied. “But keep an eye out for this mystery guy and call me if you see Walter.”

  “I will.” Sunny slipped on her flip-flops and noticed her purple toenail polish was starting to chip. So there was something to look forward to on a Saturday night, a home pedicure.

  “I’ll see you at book club Wednesday night,” Edna said, referring to The Pleasant Valley Page Turners, aptly named for their small Colorado town nestled against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

  “Great. I’ve almost finished the book. See you then.” Sunny clicked off, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. On the drive to the grocery store, she planned her shopping list in her head: milk, bread, eggs, more Cheetos, a bunch of Lean Cuisines, chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream. That about covered it.

  She had her cart half-full (or half-empty because she didn’t have the ice-cream yet) when she spied a new product in the frozen food section. Opening the freezer door, she grabbed a couple bags of Mandarin Orange Chicken. Yum. She flipped the top bag over to check the calorie content, but the top had split open, and the entire package of small chicken chunks scattered across the floor. She stood stock still for a moment, and prayed no one saw or heard the chicken nugget explosion.

  “Some people take them home before they open them,” a voice behind her said.

  Oh, crud. Sunny slowly turned around as she let the freezer door close with a thwap.

  “The package was already opened,” she said to, of course, a super-cute guy with an Owen Wilson style head of dark blond hair. Why couldn’t she have flung chicken pieces at an old lady or a pimply teenager?

  “Let me help.” He scooted several chicken nuggets under the freezer with his foot. “I think I’m your only witness,” he whispered and grinned.

  Wow. What a grin. His left canine was just a little crooked, which made his smile look mischievous and boyish.

  “Thanks. I’ve actually just been released on parole for excessive chicken spillage and driving under the influence of severe humiliation. If anyone finds out about this, they’ll send me back to the big house.” Sunny followed his lead and nonchalantly slid two frozen chicken chunks under the large freezer with her toe.

  She tossed the other bag of orange chicken into her cart and tried for a quick getaway. To her surprise, the chicken-hiding accomplice followed as she hurried into the first available aisle.

  “I think we’re in the clear,” he said, sneaking a glance behind them. “And I don’t think anyone followed us.” He played along with the gag, and they both laughed. She tried not to look at the chicken nugget piece caught in the cuff of his khaki pants.

  “Well, thanks. I guess I better get back to my shopping.” She turned, and came eye to eye with a mega-shelf of tampons, douche, and maxi-pads. “Oh, I…um, I don’t…wrong turn.” She felt a blush crawl up her neck. Wheeling her cart around, she knocked over a ‘special night of romance’ display. Condoms, KY, and massage oil scattered across the floor.

  “Do you always have this much trouble shopping?” Her follower grinned.

  “Yes. No. I just needed some of this,” Sunny mumbled as she chucked a bottle of massage oil into her cart. With a little wave, she pushed off down the aisle, weaving around the multi-colored boxes she left spread across the floor. “Thanks again.”

  Hadn’t she just this morning been wishing for more adventure in her life? So maybe he wasn’t a pirate, but a good looking guy was flirting with her, and she was blowing it by her clumsiness, and an oddly-timed need for maxis.

  Cheeks burning, Sunny headed straight for the checkout. Of course, she picked the slowest checker in the universe. The one who has to methodically pick up each item and examine it before running it across the scanner. All the while, making meaningless small talk with the customer about their groceries. “Oh wow. I haven’t tried this brand. Is it any good? What are you going to use this pork for? I’m always looking for a new recipe for ‘the other white meat’.”

  Well, I just left a full bag of processed all breast white meat coated in tempura batter defrosting under your back freezers, so can we move it along, lady?

  As Sunny reached her car, there was her new Super-Hero, the masked Chicken-Concealer, climbing into a classic, blue Mustang convertible. She ducked her head and concentrated on unlocking the car door and flinging her plastic sacks into the back seat. Frustrated at her rusty flirting skills, she debated if she should wave again or nonchalantly act like she didn’t see him. Did she want to appear carefree and fun or sexy and aloof? Too late, he was already in the driver’s seat and she was still standing at her car door looking like a dork. Again.

  Half-way home, Sunny glanced into the rear-view mirror and noticed the blue Mustang right behind her. Odd. She turned the corner into her neighborhood.

  Wait, he turned too. It took five turns before she reached her street, all of them with the Mustang turning right behind her. Her thoughts went from “Wow–what a coincidence,” to “Maybe he lives here,” to “He’s a crazy stalker following me home to rape me in my driveway,” with each consecutive turn. By the fifth one, she was reaching for her cell phone. Frantically digging through her purse, she accidentally knocked it into the passenger floorboard. She leaned over, reaching for the phone while keeping one hand and her knee still on the wheel. Shoot! A squirrel darted across the road in front of her car. Sunny swerved to miss the little rodent. The contents of her purse scattered under the seat and across the floor of the car. Great. Stupid squirrel!

  She pulled up to her house, and the Mustang came to a stop directly behind her car. Between the purse and the squirrel and Edna’s paranoia creeping into her mind, Sunny had worked herself into a frenzy.

  Holy Crap! This is what happens when you flirt with a stranger in the grocery store! Now she was going to be kidnapped and sold as a sex slave to some third world drug lord. Why didn’t she carry that pepper spray that Edna gave her last Christmas?

  Sunny jumped from the seat, threw open the back door, and scrambled for the contents of her bag. Hearing his car door slam, she looked up to see him headed her way. She grabbed a handful of things off the floor and stood to challenge him. She had come up with a Chap Stick, a tampon, and a spray breath freshener. Damn! Sunny flung the first two at him and hit him smack in the middle of the head with the Chap Stick. His hands came up in defense, but she squirted him in the face with the breath spray.

  “Aaagghh!” He covered his eyes. “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  “You’re the crazy, deranged, stalking rapist.” She reached back into the car for whatever other weapon she could find. The first bag of groceries lay spilled in the seat, and she came up with the other package of orange chicken and heaved it at the stalker.

  “Ouch! Holy shit, that burns! Cut it out!” Rubbing his eyes, he failed to deflect the flying bag of chicken, which hit him in the chest and split open. Tempura-battered chunks scattered onto the front lawn. “Stop! I’m not a stalker. I live here.”

  “You do not. I live here,” she yelled back and grabbed for more groceries.

  “Not here. There.” He pointed to the yellow house next door to hers. “Walter’s house.”

  Sunny stopped, her hand mid-throw, ready to launch a bag of egg noodles in his direction. “Walter’s house?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I got in last night and just went to the store to get some food.” His eyes were red and tearing from t
he breath spray. He rubbed his chest where she’d beaned him with the bag of chicken.

  “Geez. I just came over to see if you needed help carrying in your groceries.” He headed across the lawn toward Walter’s front door. “What is it with you and frozen meat nuggets?” he muttered.

  “Sorry,” Sunny lamely called out to his retreating back. “I thought you were following me.” She tried to explain, but he had already gone in and closed the door behind him.

  Feeling like an idiot, Sunny rummaged around the floor of her car and collected the assorted debris that had spilled from her purse. She threaded her four bags of groceries onto her wrist and weaved her way through her grocery dotted front yard. Why had she let Edna’s crazy talk of mysterious men cloud her judgment?

  She pushed open the front door, only to be knocked aside as Beau ran out into the front yard to see what excitement he had missed. The poor dog was in a frenzy as he raced around, frantically gulping down the scattered frozen chicken chunks. Leaning against the doorjam, Sunny realized that instead of throwing tampons at him, she should have been asking her new neighbor where her old neighbor was hiding and just what was he doing with a gun?

  * * *

  The next morning, Sunny rang the doorbell of Walter’s house, and chewed on her lower lip as she rehearsed her apology. The nugget guy was obviously Edna’s mystery midnight man. Sunny figured she could ply her way into the house with a plate of warm brownies, then snoop around for clues to Walter’s whereabouts. If for no other reason than to prove to Edna that her suspicions were unfounded and life was not as thrilling as the weekly crime shows she watched on television.

  The front door opened, and all thoughts seeped from Sunny’s head as her would-be stalker stood before her in nothing but a pair of jeans, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

  “Hi.” He looked at her warily. “Sorry, you caught me getting out of the shower.”