Grandkids Gone Wild (The Garden Girls Book 2)

by Hope Callaghan

  She hopped back in the car and turned to Gloria. “So what do you think?”

  “That someone was in that house with us…” But who. Gloria peered into the yard as they slowly pulled away. She glanced in the rearview mirror. What if they were being followed?

  Andrea pulled into the empty parking spot next to Gloria’s car. Gloria jumped out. She poked her head in through the open door. “Make sure you aren’t being followed,” she warned her before shutting the door.

  She watched Andrea drive off before quickly making her way over to Annabelle. She managed to get the driver’s side door unlocked before Margaret pulled up beside her and rolled down her window. “Did you hear about the break-in at the Johnson place the other night?”

  Gloria stuck her head in the car window. Someone had spotted her and Lucy! “No. What happened?”

  Margaret went on to tell her the neighbor’s dog got loose. He made it to the edge of the Johnson property when he began barking his bloody head off. When her neighbor, Mr. Slocum, chased after his dog, he spotted two shadowy figures emerge from the bushes at the edge of the alley.

  Gloria shook her head pretending to be shocked. “You don’t say…” Someone needed to give her an award for acting.

  Margaret summed it up. “So it looks like there are two killers running around. Not just one.” She glanced around before whispering. “Don’t tell anyone, but police are setting up a surveillance of the house to see if they can catch them if they come back.”

  Well, that was good to know. Gloria sighed. Guess we won’t be going back there unannounced. So much for digging around for more clues.

  Back at the farm, Gloria grabbed her mail and headed inside the house. Puddles and Mally were both waiting to greet her just inside the door. It was nice to come home and have someone anxiously awaiting her arrival. The excitement was short-lived when Gloria spied the kitchen trash can that was laying on the floor nearby, its contents strewn from one end of the kitchen to the other.

  She looked over at the most obvious culprit who had the decency to drop down on all fours and hang her head. She walked over to the dog, her hand on her hip. “Did you do this Mally?”

  A set of guilty eyes glanced from Gloria’s face to the trash can and then back again.

  Gloria shook her head in disgust before grabbing the broom and sweeping up the stinky mess. “Naughty dog,” she scolded her.

  With Gloria preoccupied in cleaning up the mess, Mally got to her feet and slowly crept out of the kitchen, tail firmly between her legs. Gloria caught a glimpse of her backside as she slunk past the dining room on her way to her doggie bed on the living room floor. She couldn’t really blame her too much. After all, she should’ve known better than to leave the trash out for the rascal to get into, especially if she sniffed out any food scraps.

  Gloria’s cell phone began vibrating. It was Paul. “Hey there!”

  He skipped the pleasantries. “Why didn’t you tell me about Blackstone and the Green Springs Inn?”

  She sighed deeply. Lucy never was that great at keeping secrets.

  “You’re putting your life and your friend’s life in danger.”

  “I was going to tell you,” she defended lamely.

  “When? After someone tried to kill you?” He had a point.

  Gloria emptied the overloaded dustpan into a new trash bag. “Did Lucy say anything else?”

  “Should she have?” He paused. “Gloria, is there something else I should know?”

  She set the broom back in the closet, pausing for a fraction of a second before she blurted out. “Blackstone made one phone call while he was at the hotel.”

  “And?”

  She sighed sadly. “It was to Malone Insurance Agency.”

  “You know what that means?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. It meant that he would be questioning Andrea. Again. “Do you have to tell her it came from me?” Please God. Don’t let him have to tell her it was my fault. She held her breath.

  “No. We can say it was an anonymous source.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. At least that was something.

  Gloria hung up. Mally was impatiently waiting just outside the kitchen doorway, her tail wagging ninety miles an hour, hoping she was no longer in the doghouse. “C’mere girl.” Mally trotted over to where Gloria was waiting. She was on the verge of tears as she buried her face in the dog’s neck. Mally let out a low whine before she broke free from Gloria’s embrace. She made her way over to the back door where she pawed at the door and let out another whine.

  “Good idea.” Gloria grabbed her leash and led her outside. A brisk trot around the yard helped clear Gloria’s head. Nothing like fresh air and a devoted dog to cheer her up.

  She spent the rest of the evening warily eyeing the phone on the wall, wondering if Andrea would call after she’d been taken to the station for questioning. When the phone finally rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her sudden movement scared Puddles and Mally half to death.

  She closed her eyes as she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  At first all she heard was sniffling. “Gloria, its Andrea.”

  Gloria’s heart sank. Once again, this poor thing was in misery and it was all her fault. She knew she never should’ve mentioned the phone call to Paul.

  “You’ll never guess what…”

  Oh, but she could guess. She listened as Andrea poured out the story of police showing up on her doorstep, questioning her about Arthur Blackstone’s murder.

  “I have no idea why that man called Daniel’s office,” she ended miserably.

  Gloria was near tears herself. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” Gloria vowed. And she meant it.

  She hung up the phone, a look of determination etched on her face. The only place she could think of that might hold any clues was the purple house down the road. It was time to stake out Walking Stan’s place and Gloria had a plan. Now all she had to do was wait until morning.

  Chapter 8

  Bright and early the next morning Gloria climbed into the old combine tractor. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prayed the old girl would fire up. To her utter amazement, the engine rolled over on the first try. It had been years since she’d been inside the tractor and even longer since she’d driven it anywhere. She sent up a small prayer of thanks that she didn’t have to go out onto the roads.

  She eased the lumbering green machinery out of the barn. She made a hard right as she cut through the back yard, bumping along until she reached the edge of the field. At least she didn’t worry too much about ruining good crops. Those were out now that winter was right around the corner.

  Walking Stan’s place was on the edge of the back field, directly across the street from her property. She made a beeline for the long row of trees lining the field. Gloria pulled in behind a thick cluster, turned off the motor and waited.

  She grabbed her binoculars and peered at the faded purple place. Stan’s van was parked in the driveway beside it. She sat there for a good hour with nary a car driving by. She was just about to pack it in when she saw the rooftop lights of a police car as it climbed over the horizon. Oh no! I hope that’s not Paul!

  In a mild state of panic, she started the old tractor and stomped on the foot throttle, willing the old girl to make fast tracks across the field and out of sight. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if somehow that might make her and the tractor invisible.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she bumped back across the yard and finally pulled up in front of the barn. She quickly shut off the engine, sprinted across the driveway and darted into the house.

  She yanked the door shut just in time to see a police car pull in the drive. Her heart sank when she saw Paul’s tall frame emerge. It’s not that she didn’t want to see him. She just wished it were under different circumstances.

  He tapped softly on the kitchen door. Gloria threw the door open and feigned surprise. “Well, hello there!”

  �
��Thought I’d drop by for a minute. I was just over at Stan Blackstone’s place to see if I could talk to him again.” Paul shoved his hands in his pockets. “He wasn’t nearly as cooperative this time.”

  Gloria shook her head, not the least bit surprised. “He’s probably had more company in the last week than he’s had in a decade.”

  Paul pointed in the direction of the tractor. “You drive that?”

  Gloria nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. I took it for a spin.” She glanced out the window. “Seems a shame to have it just sit there in the barn all these years. Maybe I should sell it.”

  She pulled out a chair. “Do you have time to sit down for a minute?”

  “Yeah. That’s about all I have. I’m still on duty for a couple more hours.”

  He eased into the chair and drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the kitchen table. “I talked to Andrea Malone yesterday.”

  “And?”

  Paul shook his head. “She seemed really rattled about the Blackstone murder.”

  Gloria was curious on his take. “Do you think she’s guilty?”

  “My gut tells me no but I’ve been wrong before.”

  Gloria set a cup of coffee in front of Paul. “What about Stan Blackstone?”

  “Well, at first I pretty much ruled him out.” He cradled the cup of coffee. “But this time around – I’m not so sure…”

  He abruptly jumped to his feet. “I have to get going. Maybe we can have lunch later this week?”

  “Sounds good. Let’s run down to Dot’s restaurant here in town.” Everyone was already gossiping about Gloria and her new beau. Might as well give them something to really talk about.

  She gave him a small wave and closed the door as he drove off. She tossed around the idea of heading back out in the tractor as she fixed a light lunch. On the one hand, it could be a total waste of time, especially if Stan knew he was being watched, but on the other…

  Gloria went with “the other.” A few hours later, she once again climbed up in the cab of the tractor and slowly made her way back to the stakeout spot. The van was still in the driveway and the curtains were drawn tight.

  This time she came prepared with a brand new detective novel she’d been itching to read and canteen of coffee in case she got drowsy. She quickly became engrossed in her book and was just getting to a good part when she saw a vehicle – the first vehicle in over an hour – pop up over the hill. It was an old Ford pick-up truck with tinted windows which seemed a little odd. Tinted windows in Michigan were almost non-existent.

  The truck slowed as it approached the purple house before turning in. Gloria ducked down in the cab as she hid behind her book. She peeked over the top just in time to see the driver get out and make his way to the front door.

  She grabbed her binoculars and zeroed in on the man’s face. She’d never set eyes on him before. The door abruptly opened. Stan stuck his head around the corner, a grim expression on his face.

  The tall, dark-haired man began waving his hands wildly as he gestured towards the truck.

  Stan shook his head angrily and glanced around. Gloria crossed her fingers and prayed he wouldn’t notice the tractor. She saw him look across the road and she could’ve sworn he was looking right at her. Or maybe it was just her vivid imagination. After all, tractors sitting in farmer’s fields wasn’t really that unusual.

  The conversation abruptly ended. The man turned on his heel, bounded down the crumbling front steps and made his way over to the passenger side of the pickup. He yanked the door open, reached inside and lifted something out.

  He was almost hidden from view on the other side of the truck. Gloria peered over the top of the metal door frame. Her sharp eye honed in on a pair of feet dangling out from underneath a dark blanket. The man struggled as he carried the limp form up the front steps. His head swung around as he looked up and down the street, right before he stepped inside. The door quickly shut behind him.

  Gloria’s heart was pounding. She needed to find out who that man was and who he was carrying. Against her better judgment, she crawled out of the cab, dropped to the ground and stealthily crept over to the edge of the field.

  She glanced in each direction before darting across the street. She crouched down as she inched her way along the side of the old Ford truck. When she got in front of it, she ducked down and scrambled across the gravel drive towards the house. When she reached the corner of the house, she paused to catch her breath. Gloria pressed her body tight against the faded siding. Now what?

  She stuck her head around the back side. The soft glow of a dim light was coming from a small window a few feet off the ground. The kitchen. She crept along the back side until she was directly under the light. She swallowed nervously as she inched upwards. At the edge of the window sill, she peered through the screened frame. No one was in sight. She stretched forward a little until she caught a glimpse of the living room. There was a brown sofa and what looked to be a pair of feet sprawled out on the end.

  This wasn’t going to work. The only thing she could do was try to find a small opening in the blinds that covered the back slider. Her foot slipped on a loose rock as she tiptoed along towards the faded wooden deck. She clutched the side of the house to steady herself. This man needs some landscaping help. The yard was nothing but a bunch of dead weeds and loose field stones.

  She hoisted herself onto the warped boards and took a step forward. Creak. So much for being stealth. She silently peered through the one and only small crack in the blinds. The couch was in plain sight now.

  “What are you doing??”

  Gloria nearly jumped out of her skin as she whirled around.

  Stan Blackstone was standing right behind her with a gun in his hand and it was pointed directly at her head.

  “I-I….” She had no idea how to explain why she was peeping in his windows.

  He reached up and roughly grabbed her arm, yanking her off the deck and towards the front of the house. “I’ll show you what we do with Nosy Nellies.”

  Gloria swallowed hard as she stumbled along the uneven ground. Stan wasn’t cutting her any slack. “Keep moving!”

  They rounded the corner and quickly made their way up the front steps. He shoved her through the front door before slamming it shut and turning the deadbolt with a menacing click.

  Gloria’s eyes darted around the room. The man from the truck was sitting in a corner rocking chair, his eyes glittering dangerously. “I didn’t know you were expecting company.”

  “My nosy neighbor, Gloria Rutherford.”

  The man rocked back and forth as he silently studied Gloria. “Another busybody,” he solemnly observed. “Just like the one over there.” His hand shot out as he pointed in the direction of the sofa.

  Gloria fearfully followed his gaze. Whoever he carried in earlier was sprawled out on the sofa motionless.

  Walking Stan marched over to the tattered blanket and yanked it off the body of Andrea Malone.

  Chapter 9

  Paul Kennedy tapped the top of his desk with the end of his ballpoint pen. Something was bothering him. That something was hovering on the edge of his brain.

  He leaned back in his chair as he replayed the conversation with old man Blackstone. When Paul cornered him, Arthur admitted that the backpack was full of cash his brother stole while robbing a bank. That wasn’t the part that was nagging at his brain. It was something else Stan Blackstone said that hit Paul’s radar.

  “When was the last time you saw your brother, Mr. Blackstone?”

  “You mean my brother, Arthur?” He paused. “Probably been a good five years before he showed up a few weeks ago saying he was in trouble. That he robbed a bank and some people were after him to repay a gambling debt.”

  Paul paused, the pen poised in his hand. “Did you ever actually see the cash?”

  Blackstone nodded. “Yeah. He showed it to me. Never took it out of the backpack or nothin’. I just looked inside.”

  “And you haven’t seen h
im since that day?”

  Stan shook his head emphatically. “Never saw Arthur again after that. Next thing I knew, they found his body in that old house in town.”

  It was at that precise moment, it finally clicked. Paul Kennedy grabbed his jacket off the chair and headed to the door. Time to go talk to the clerk at Green Springs Inn.

  The clerk warily watched as Kennedy walked into the small lobby. “I was in here the other day asking questions about a specific guest.”

  The clerk nodded.

  “A guest by the name of Blackstone.”

  She nodded again.

  He leaned an elbow on the counter. “Can you take a look at your records and tell me – was the guest’s name Arthur Blackstone?”

  Jane Jackson popped on her reading glasses and began typing on the keyboard. She studied the screen for a second before slowly shaking her head. “No. The person who stayed here was Dean Blackstone.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I’m positive. Guests have to show proof of ID at check-in. According to our records, he used a driver’s license.”

  Paul rapped his knuckles lightly on the counter. That was it. There were three brothers. All three of them were in town at the time of Arthur’s death.

  The missing piece of the puzzle. Another brother. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

  He slowly closed the door and walked back to his patrol car. His gut told him the other brother – Dean Blackstone – knew something about his brother’s death. There was a good chance Stan Blackstone knew something too.

  He radioed the office, asking them to run a check on a Dean Blackstone. He also told them he needed some back up over at 1977 Gravel Range Road. The home of Stan Blackstone.

  Stan Blackstone bent down and roughly nudged the shoulder of the motionless blonde woman. “Wake up!”

  She moaned softly, her eyelids fluttering momentarily before closing again.

  Blackstone wasn’t quite as gentle the second time he tried. He reached down and slapped her face. “Time to wake up!”