Death, Taxes, and Hot-Pink Leg Warmers

by Diane Kelly

  I held up the bag of giblets. “What do I do with this stuff?”

  Mom took it from me. “I’ll cook them up for the dogs.”

  Bonnie took a seat at the kitchen table while Mom began pulling out the breakfast things and I basted the bird with butter and added the herbs and spices. The oven dinged to let me know it was heated. I felt a knife of guilt as I shoved the bird inside. After all, the turkey had not only saved my life last night, it had saved Nick’s and Bonnie’s and Nutty’s, as well. It seemed ungrateful to shove it into a hot oven and eat it. Then again, without a head, feathers, or feet, it wasn’t like it had much quality of life left anyway, right?

  Nick appeared in the doorway a moment later wearing a pair of sweats and the wrinkled Cowboys tee he’d slept in. He looked tired, but those early-rising habits he’d learned growing up in the country were hard to break. He grunted in reply to our mothers’ singsong greetings.

  “Peas in a pod,” Bonnie said, gesturing to me and Nick with her mug.

  Nick plopped down in the chair next to me with his cup of coffee, reaching over and ruffling my hair. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  Dad hobbled in a few minutes later, still hunched over but looking a little better than he had the night before. With any luck, his back would be fully recovered by the end of the holiday weekend. At least he looked well enough now that Mom could come back to Dallas with me for some Black Friday shopping.

  Mom set about making her homemade biscuits while I scrambled the eggs and Bonnie fried the bacon and sausage and made gravy. Nick and Dad offered words of encouragement.

  “Smells great.”

  “My stomach’s growling already.”

  “I hope you’re making a lot because I could eat a horse.”

  Funny how eating a horse is hyperbole here in the U.S. but a delicacy in certain parts of Europe, huh?

  I retrieved the Tabasco sauce for Nick and Dad. Both of them liked to cover their eggs with the spicy stuff.

  We ate a big breakfast, knowing the meal would need to tide us over until the afternoon feast. Afterward, we showered and dressed. While Mom and Bonnie puttered around the kitchen, Nick and I put the leaf in the dining room table, covered it with a freshly ironed holiday tablecloth, and set out the silverware. We brought in wood from outside and started a fire in the fireplace, the house warming up with the pleasant scent of cedar.

  Dad sat in his recliner, grumbling about what a useless old man he’d become, even though all of us knew there was no truth in his words.

  Later that morning, the front door banged open and my five-year-old niece Jesse burst through it. “Aunt Tara!”

  She ran and leaped into my arms, earning herself a big hug and kiss for her enthusiasm.

  My fair-haired sisters-in-law, Hannah and Claire, were the next through the door, one carrying a basket of fresh-baked rolls, the other a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese for the more fussy children’s palates.

  “Hey there!” I gave them both hugs and introduced them to Nick.

  They greeted Nick warmly, Claire turning her head as she hugged him to discreetly mouth the words He’s hot!

  My brothers, Trace and Chad, herded the remaining four kids through the door, closing it before any could escape. Both of my brothers resembled my father, squarely built with brown hair and the same gray-blue eyes as mine.

  “So you’re the guy Tara’s been blathering on about,” Trace said, sticking out his hand to shake Nick’s.

  “I certainly hope so,” Nick replied, casting me a grin.

  Chad wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled me down to deliver a fresh set of noogies to the top of my head. “Where’d these curls come from?”

  “I’m working undercover,” I told him as he released me. “I’m a bookkeeper in a strip club.”

  My brothers exchanged glances.

  “You know, maybe it’s time we paid you a visit out there in Dallas,” Trace said.

  “Yeah,” Chad agreed. “It’s been way too long.”

  Hannah grabbed Chad by the ear and dragged him into the living room. “Keep dreaming, buddy.”

  My mother and Bonnie came out of the kitchen and we went through another round of who’s who, including the children this time. We lined them up and I pointed at each in turn. “Emma, Olivia, Cole, Hayden, and Jesse.”

  “So wonderful to meet all of you,” Bonnie said, offering both her hand and a warm smile.

  Now that everyone was here, we took places in the family room to watch the Thanksgiving Day parades, first the one in New York and then the one in Dallas. I lay down on the braided rug next to Jesse, and we oohed and aahed over the big balloons and colorful floats.

  I caught Nick watching me and Jesse a couple of times. I wondered if he was thinking what a great mother I’d make for his children someday. Then again, he was a man. He was probably daydreaming about the turkey drumstick or mentally debating what foreplay techniques might work best on me. I tried to send him a telepathic message. Try a tongue in the belly button. Works every time.

  After the parade, we all ventured out front for the annual leaf-pile jump. My brothers and I grabbed rakes from the barn and quickly scooped up a huge pile of leaves and pine needles. Jesse’s tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she ran with all her might and leaped into the pile. Screaming with glee, the other kids took turns running and leaping into the pile, just as my brothers and I had done when we were young.

  My mother, Bonnie, and the scarecrow watched from their seats in the porch rockers.

  “It must be nice to have such a big family,” Bonnie told my mother, smiling at the antics of my young nieces and nephews. “I always wanted more kids after Nick, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Nick once told me that his mother had suffered complications after his birth that prevented her from bearing more children. Though it wasn’t his fault, of course, I think he felt a little guilty about it. But if things progressed as I hoped they would over the next few years, maybe Nick and I could give her some adorable, precocious grandchildren to dote on.

  When the turkey was ready, we picked the kids up, dusted them off, and went inside.

  “Everybody wash up!” Mom called.

  As we took hands and said grace, I silently thanked the Big Guy Upstairs for sparing our lives last night. I added a plea for the turkey, asking that his soul be free to frolic happily in the heavens.

  The meal was wonderful. My turkey turned out great, thanks to Bonnie’s herb and spice recommendations. Her stuffing was a big hit, too.

  My mother scooped up a second helping. “This has got to be the best stuffing on earth.” She turned an eye on Nick’s mom. “Any chance you’ll share the recipe?”

  To my surprise, Bonnie agreed to share the sacred secrets of her stuffing. “But only if I can have your recipe for broccoli-rice casserole.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Talking, laughing, and reminiscing, we ate until we could eat no more. My sisters-in-law and I cleaned up the kitchen to give Mom and Bonnie a break. The two found spots in the family room to watch football with the men, though Bonnie flipped through my Southern Living magazine as she sat, and Mom cracked pecans for her world-famous pecan pralines. Nick fit right in with my brothers and by the end of the day they’d become fast friends.

  My brothers and their families left at dusk. We bade them good-bye out front and my parents and Bonnie went back inside. Nick and I remained on the porch with Nutty, the barn dogs, and the scarecrow, sharing a semiprivate moment.

  Nick and I took a seat on the top step and he draped his arm around my shoulders. I snuggled into him, enjoying his warmth, breathing in his masculine scent of soap and boot leather. It felt like heaven sitting next to him, looking up at the moon and stars.

  Oddly enough, though Nick’s personality was far more intense than Brett’s, I felt a special type of peace with Nick. The man brought out both the best and the worst in me, but he understood me, what made me tick, what mad
e me me. And he’d never implied that I should be anyone but me. I was far from perfect, but he accepted me, faults and all. I had to love him for that.

  What’s more, I wasn’t just more comfortable with him, I was more comfortable with me when I was with him. With Brett, I always felt a little like I was letting him down, not giving him everything he needed, like I’d never be able to provide the type of relationship he wanted and deserved.

  I sincerely hoped Fiona could give Brett what he wanted and needed.

  I couldn’t.

  I realized then that thinking of him no longer hurt so much. The feeling was like a fading echo that had become very faint.

  Resting my head on Nick’s shoulder, I sighed with complete and utter contentment.

  chapter forty-two

  The Best Laid Plans

  Bright and early Friday morning, Mom and I took her car and followed Nick and Bonnie back to Dallas. We gave them a honk and a wave when we exited the freeway to go to my town house. There, we rounded up Alicia and set out for a day of bargain shopping.

  “Where to first?” I asked once everyone was seated in my car.

  “Neiman’s, of course!” Mom said.

  My mother scored a pair of cute boots in the shoe department, while I found a colorful lightweight sweater on sale for half off in the women’s section. Alicia discovered a silver bangle bracelet in the jewelry department that she couldn’t live without, even though it was only discounted by ten percent. We even found the perfect bridesmaid dress for me, a red satin number with a flirty, flouncy gathered skirt and a crossover front that enhanced my limited bust.

  Once we’d done as much damage as we could do at Neiman’s, we headed to the nearest suburban mall. Alicia distracted my mother at Bath & Body Works, sampling all the latest holiday scents, while I pretended to have a work-related call to make but actually dashed over to Victoria’s Secret. I bought massage oil and a sheer red nightie for my upcoming romp with Nick.

  Only one more day.

  I could hardly wait!

  I hid my pink-striped lingerie bag inside another sack so my mother wouldn’t know what a naughty daughter she’d raised. The three of us had an early dinner at the food court before my mother and Alicia headed back to my town house and I headed to Guys & Dolls for my final Friday-night shift. It wasn’t just one more day until Nick and I could be together, it was one more day before we’d take down Don Geils and his criminal empire. His arrest would be a nice warm-up for the night of passion Nick and I would spend afterward.

  * * *

  I’d just sat down to begin my shift when Don Geils barged into the cash office, interrupting Bernice’s daily foot rub.

  “Where’s the produce delivery?” Geils demanded of Merle, as if the poor guy had any control over the club’s independent suppliers. “The damn truck was supposed to be here by four o’clock.”

  “I called Valley Produce,” Merle said, releasing Bernice’s foot. “The truck got stuck in holiday traffic. They assured me it will arrive soon.”

  I turned away lest my eyes betray me. I knew why the produce delivery was late. Because DEA agents had waylaid the truck just north of Hillsboro. Christina’s cohorts had been in touch with her, keeping her updated on the progress, and she’d passed the information on to me, Nick, and Aaron via text. A huge stash of crystal meth had been discovered hidden in boxes of limes that were marked GUYS & DOLLS—BAR ONLY.

  Agents grilled the driver and determined that, unlike the driver for Stillwater Spirits, he played no conscious role in the drug scheme. They coached him to proceed as usual, though one of the DEA agents rode in the truck with him, posing as a second deliveryman, not only to make sure the driver didn’t contact either his employer or Geils, but also to ensure the drugs were successfully delivered to the club. The agent also had the driver call his employer with a false report of a traffic snarl that had delayed him a couple of hours.

  Shortly thereafter, agents moved in on the Valley Produce facility in Edinburg. Large amounts of meth were found on the premises and multiple arrests were made. Most likely the person Merle spoke with when he called was an undercover agent posing as an employee.

  The intercom buzzed on Merle’s phone. It was the kitchen staff calling, notifying us the produce delivery had finally arrived and requesting the cash payment.

  “It’s about fucking time they got here,” Geils spat. He thumped first Merle, then me, on the forehead. “Take ’im the cash, pipsqueak.”

  Whaddya know. The guy had grown to trust me. How ironic. “Yes, sir.”

  I grabbed the envelope from Merle and headed back to the kitchen, handing the cash over to one of the dishwashers waiting at the inside door. As he stepped back into the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of the Latino delivery driver standing in the open delivery bay, the undercover DEA agent beside him.

  Looked like things were moving right ahead as planned. I loved it when that happened.

  Of course, the big day would be tomorrow. It would be fun working with Nick to take down Don Geils, like our own special kind of foreplay.

  As I headed back to the cash office, I noted Geils at the bar, speaking with Theo. The bartender finished pouring a drink and immediately made his way to the kitchen for his limes and contraband. Back in the cash office, I continued to watch through the mirror as Theo stopped at the locked storage closet, entered the passcode, and disappeared inside for a moment or two. When he came out, he still had the boxes of limes in his hands but I knew the meth was no longer in the boxes.

  I realized then that Merle was watching me watch Theo.

  Uh-oh.

  I shook my head as if shaking myself awake. “I feel like I’m in a fog today,” I said. “I think it’s all that leftover turkey.”

  Merle chuckled. “That stuff will sure put a person out, won’t it? I’m surprised there aren’t some kind of turkey-extract pills sold as a sleeping aid.”

  A few hours later, the night wrapped up with little fanfare.

  The next night, though, would be an entirely different story.

  * * *

  I sent Mom back to Nacogdoches early Saturday morning after a breakfast of Fruity Pebbles for me, toast and jelly for her.

  As I waved good-bye to her from my driveway, I noticed several men from a local moving outfit were down the street, unloading Nick’s couch, coffee table, and big-screen TV from a truck, moving them into the town house he’d leased. His new bed would be delivered today, too. It was going to be nice having Nick so close.

  The two of us hooked up at ten o’clock at the Dallas PD headquarters for our final powwow on the Guys & Dolls case.

  This time, it wasn’t just me, Nick, Christina, and Aaron in the room, but the plainclothes officer who’d been taking down license plates in the Guys & Dolls parking lot and seven members from the SWAT team, as well.

  After handshakes and greetings were exchanged, the rest of us took seats while Aaron remained standing to review the game plan for the evening’s bust.

  “We can’t risk the safety of the customers,” Menger said, “so we’ll have to wait until the club is closed for the night before executing the mission.”

  I liked the sound of that. I wasn’t just doing a job, I was “executing a mission.” How cool is that?

  “We know the drugs are in the club, but we’re also hoping to nab Geils and Wesley Prescott for solicitation and prostitution tonight. Christina is going to string them along until the end of the night when we can apprehend them more easily.”

  After what happened to Angelique in the VIP room, when she’d come out battered and bruised, it was clear Geils had told his bouncers not to interfere with the activities in the locked room. But if Christina ended up alone with Prescott in the VIP room, the joke would be on him. Even without a weapon, she could kick his ass.

  Aaron turned to me. “Tara, your job is to keep an eye on the club. Wait until all the customers clear out, then go outside as if you’re leaving. That will be the signal for Christina to take P
rescott to the VIP room and for the SWAT team to move in. Hold the door open so they can get inside quickly.”

  I dipped my head. “Got it.”

  He turned to address the SWAT team now. “The muscle is always the last to leave, so you may find yourself contending with several of Geils’s bouncers inside the club. Hopefully they will surrender peacefully, but there’s no guarantees.”

  The SWAT members exchanged glances. They were virtually salivating. I doubted they hoped for a peaceful surrender. They looked like they’d like nothing better than to crack some skulls. I had to admit I wouldn’t mind cracking some skulls myself. Well, maybe not skulls. That hit a little too close to home, no pun intended. But I wouldn’t mind cracking a nut or two, especially if the nuts hung between the legs of the Cyclops. He’d violated me. I’d love to return the favor.

  Menger handed a stack of papers to the plainclothes officer, gesturing for him to distribute the documents.

  “What you’re getting is a rough floor plan of Guys and Dolls,” Aaron said, holding up his sketch of the club’s layout. “You’ll notice there are two sets of doors, the double doors in the front for customers and a back door in the kitchen next to the delivery bay. We’ll need an officer to cover each door in case anyone attempts an escape.”

  The most senior member of the SWAT team, a dark-skinned black man with a military-style haircut, quickly assigned the task of door guarding to two of the team members. I had no doubt they’d do the job well. Both stood well over six feet with shoulders broad enough to easily block a train. A doorway would be a cinch.

  Menger addressed the SWAT team. “You know what to do once you’re inside. Take control. Restrain the suspects. Round up any weapons.” Menger glanced around the room. “Any questions?”