by Harper Lin
Oh yeah? I thought. You don’t know which car I’m driving.
But even a Lamborghini isn’t enough if you don’t know where to go. By the time I passed through the trees and made it to the parking lot, he was gone.
There were a few cars in the parking lot, plus a van. I suspected the van was owned by the hitmen and contained the fertilizer bomb.
Nothing I could do about that now. I got in the Lamborghini, feeling much better in its cozy ergonomic seat, and peeled out of the parking lot and onto the two-lane road that was the only way out.
There were two options for where he could have gone. This road led to both the highway and its access road running alongside it, heading out of town in one direction or into town and joining up with the business loop if you took the other direction.
Going back to town was an unlikely option, so Crazy Andy was either headed for the highway, or taking the less-used access road.
I chose the highway. Crazy Andy looked panicked, and since he didn’t suspect I had a souped-up sports car, his only worry was the police. He’d want to get out of the county, and then out of the state, as soon as possible.
That left me with two problems—I didn’t know for sure that he had taken that route, and I didn’t know what kind of vehicle he was driving.
As I shot up the access ramp to the highway, swerving in front of a delivery truck in the slow lane and merging with the fast lane, I decided I’d go down the highway a few miles, checking out each car as I passed. If I didn’t spot him, I’d get onto the access road and head back to town, cutting Crazy Andy off if he went that way.
The engine roared as I hit ninety, soon catching up to the first car I came to. The powerful engine growled as I slowed and pulled alongside. A woman stared at me, astonished, while in the back two little boys gave me a look of utter delight. I grinned, forgetting they couldn’t see me through the tinted windows, and hit the gas.
A few seconds later, I caught up with the next car, driven by a man in the uniform of a popular delivery company.
Not who I wanted. I shot forward and came to the next car, driven by a woman so focused on texting that she didn’t even notice I was there.
Frustrated, I hit the gas again, the roar of the engine startling the texting woman and making her swerve.
Whoops. At least she didn’t crash. She’d probably have sued me, saying it was my fault I interrupted her text.
This was getting annoying. I was beginning to think I’d taken the wrong route or maybe the wrong direction. He wouldn’t have headed back into town, would he?
Then I got another problem added to my generous helping of life worries. A siren wailed behind me. I checked my rearview mirror. In the distance, I saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser.
Great. Just great.
I didn’t have time for a traffic ticket. I ignored them and resumed my speedup, slowdown search of all the vehicles on the highway.
I passed five more cars, all of them driven by innocent civilians, before the cruiser caught up with me.
It came right up behind, obviously as a signal for me to pull over. Through the window I could see a police officer and Police Chief Grimal. He was eating Chinese takeaway as his patrolman drove.
Good Lord. Did that man ever stop eating?
The highway was clear up ahead except for an eighteen-wheeler in the slow lane. I hit the gas and shot forward, making one hundred mph before I had even finished laughing at Grimal.
The cruiser picked up speed too. Police cars have powerful engines, but I was driving a Lamborghini, so there really was no competition.
We crested a hill and sped down the other side, Grimal gradually losing ground. Up ahead I saw three cars. I slowed for the first one. No luck. I swerved to the fast lane, gave the engine a bit of speed, caught up with the second car, slowed down alongside, and again discovered a regular citizen. The police cruiser gained on me.
The next car was a few hundred yards ahead. I gunned the engine, overtook it, and found it was, once again, a regular citizen instead of an international drug dealer and cold-blooded killer.
This highway was seriously boring!
I passed the car, the police cruiser coming up behind me a second time, and got in the slow lane. A sign said an exit was just a mile ahead. I needed to get on the access road and try to cut Crazy Andy off.
And pray he hadn’t slipped away on one of the county roads leading off from the access road. If he did that, there was no way for me to find him.
As I got on the exit ramp, the police cruiser tried to cut in front of me and force me off the road. How rude. I hit the gas, got ahead of them, then clenched my teeth as I realized I was going far too fast for the curving exit ramp. I yanked on the wheel, the screech of tires filling my ears, and missed the guardrail by a millimeter.
The police car did not, and I heard a screech of metal on metal that almost shook my fillings loose.
The policeman managed to maintain control, however, and followed me right onto the access road.
I hit the gas and left him in the dust.
Not for long. Up ahead, a Lexus came in the other direction. Clear as day, I could see Crazy Andy at the wheel.
I swerved into his lane and went right for him.
His face registered confusion then lit up. I felt sure he knew I sat behind the tinted windows of that Lamborghini. His mouth spread wide in a maniacal grin, and he drove right for me.
So he wanted to play chicken, did he? No thanks, I don’t play crazy games with crazy people. It’s a good way to lose.
But I didn’t want him to know that. I stayed the course, the Lexus rushing up at me. Just as it looked about to smash into me head-on, I flicked the steering wheel to the right and swerved past him.
I had forgotten one little detail—the police cruiser was speeding up behind me.
Oops.
In my rearview mirror I saw Crazy Andy and the cop car come right at each other. Crazy Andy forged straight ahead while the policeman swerved to avoid a head-on collision.
They clipped each other, and both cars flipped, rolling over and over again on the narrow two-lane road.
My heart clenched. Poor Grimal! Poor innocent policeman!
As much as I looked down on the local constabulary, I didn’t want them dead. I swerved the Lamborghini, made a one-eighty, and drove back to the scene of the crash.
I passed the police car, which was upside down, and approached the Lexus, which had settled right side up, half off the road and half in a ditch.
Then I saw a sight that made my blood run cold.
Crazy Andy lay in the road, obviously dead. A human-sized hole was punched through the windshield of the Lexus.
I got out, heart beating fast, and started to walk back to the police cruiser, the pain in my back forgotten in my worry for those two officers.
With a squeal of twisted metal, one of the doors opened. The policeman staggered out, followed shortly by Grimal. Other than being covered in sweet and sour sauce and rice, they appeared unhurt.
“Wha-what happened?” Grimal asked, a noodle draped over his ear and a fortune cookie stuck to his forehead.
“You wore your seat belt,” I said, and gestured at the mess in the road behind me. “He didn’t.”
Grimal nodded. The fortune cookie fell off his forehead to crack on the pavement. It left an indentation in his forehead that I hoped would be permanent.
“I teach traffic safety in the local schools,” he said.
I laughed. “Well, at least you’re good for something!”
SIXTEEN
Now that the assassins were taken care of, nothing could spoil Liz’s big day. A cheerful sun shone over Cheerville, the weather was warm but not hot, and Police Chief Grimal was in the newspaper as having arrested two drug dealers and taken out their leader. The bomb squad had found and defused the fertilizer bomb in the van, making this story national news.
At least that was the version we gave to the press. No mention of
me or Liz, thankfully. Our agencies saw to that. Once again, it looked like he would get an award from the governor for someone else’s work. So it goes.
I let that pass. I was too busy helping Liz with her camouflage wedding dress.
We were at her house, or more accurately her suburban fortress. Poofles and Doofles were locked in a back room, their growls shaking the foundations as the bridesmaids and I fussed over the dress. She had picked desert camouflage as a memory of her time in the Middle East. While it was a strange color pattern to get hitched in, I have to say it was certainly appropriate to her lifestyle. Her military lifestyle, not her nudist lifestyle. I was so glad she wasn’t having a nudist wedding. I would have found something else to do, and it would have been a shame to have missed seeing Liz and Rick get married.
Megaton Army Surplus had even provided her with a bouquet of flowers native to Afghanistan. I wondered if that meant that whoever caught it would be sent overseas instead of getting married. Or perhaps would have a wedding similar to my own.
Whatever happened, I wished that woman well.
Once everything was ready, we drove over to the entrance of Lakeview Park, stopping out of sight down the street where the pink tank was parked amid a small circle of curious onlookers. Rick’s tank was parked down the street in the other direction beyond the park entrance. The plan was to have them set out at the same time, meet at the gate, and drive together to the Lakeview Park activities building where the guests would await them.
It would be one heck of an entrance.
As the bridesmaids fussed with her dress and an older woman who resembled Liz bawled in the background, my friend turned to me.
“Thanks for all your help, Barbara. This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said then lowered my voice. “Really, don’t mention it. We don’t want our covers blown.”
“Cover for what? I’m a forward observer.” She laughed and clambered onto the tank. She looked radiant in her desert camo wedding dress atop that pink metal monstrosity.
“See you at the venue!” I said as I got in my car with a wave.
I drove to the Lakeshore Park activities building with a smile on my face. In most of the murders I’ve solved here in Cheerville, I’ve taken down individual killers, not major drug dealers with many deaths on their hands. It was a refreshing change, one that made me feel young again.
And that got me thinking. While everyone looked at me as old, seventy-one wasn’t that far gone, no matter what my back said. I still had a lot of life left in me. I needed to appreciate what I had and enjoy it, not live in the past. James himself had told me many times to move on with my life in case something happened to him.
Of course, that’s easier said than done. Now it had been a few years. The pain of his passing had eased to a dull ache that would never go away but that I could live with, and I had a whole new life here in Cheerville. I needed to live it more.
I parked, got out, and scanned the small crowd of wedding guests. I recognized no one. That’s always a bit awkward.
Strolling through the crowd, exchanging uncertain smiles with various strangers, I waited for the festivities to begin. A waiter passed through with a tray of champagne glasses. I took one. I had earned it.
A couple of sips and the twinges in my back eased. Not as good as Magic Fingers, and nothing compared to Bubba Chong, but hey, I was at a wedding.
I drained the champagne and got a second glass to hold.
Feeling much better, I gazed out over the beautiful park.
A familiar car pulled up in the parking lot. My heart did a little flippy-flop.
Octavian and Martin got out, dressed in identical tuxedos.
“Martin, you look like a little gentleman!” I cried as I walked over.
He strutted around a little. “I look pretty cool, don’t I, Grandma? Like James Bond or something.”
“Definitely. Be careful not to spill anything on that.”
“It’s insured,” Octavian said. “All kids’ tuxedo rentals require that you buy insurance.”
“Smart,” I agreed. “And you certainly look good too.”
I pulled closer to him.
“And you look very fine in that dress, pretty lady. I hope your dance card isn’t full yet because I’d like to reserve a twirl around the dance floor.”
I looked him in the eye.
“My dance card is entirely full and only with your name.”
His eyes sparkled.
“What’s a dance card?” Martin asked.
“In old-style dances, many different men would ask ladies to dance, and you kept a dance card to know who to dance with next,” I told him.
“Sounds lame.” Martin looked around, then his eyes lit up. “Cool!”
We turned and saw a pair of tanks rumbling over the hill, one with pink camouflage and one with blue. On the turret of the blue one sat a handsome, square-jawed young man in dress uniform. Marching on either side of the tank were more men in dress uniform, no doubt his closest Army pals, along with a few civilians in suits.
Next to the blue tank rumbled the pink one. Sitting on top was Liz in her camouflage wedding dress. Flanking her tank came the bridesmaids in much more traditional attire and the women from her family.
“Whoa!” Martin said. “They’re totally trashing the lawn.”
I winced as I saw Martin was right. The tank tracks were chewing up the grass, leaving a horribly mutilated twin path of destruction. Martin cheered.
Oh well, no wedding ever goes off without a hitch.
Octavian laughed. “Looks like I made it just in time.”
I put my hand in his. “Yes, Octavian, yes you did.”
He looked at me, glanced back at the wedding party, then looked at me again.
He moved in for a kiss, but stopped when Martin started making puking sounds. We squeezed each other’s hands instead and went back to watching the pair of his and hers tanks tear up the park because we would have time later to kiss in private.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Harper Lin is a USA TODAY bestselling cozy mystery author. When she's not reading or writing mysteries, she loves going to yoga classes, hiking, and hanging out with her family and friends.
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A NOTE FROM HARPER
Thank you so much for reading Granny Burns Rubber. If you were entertained by the book, please recommend it to friends and family who would enjoy it too. I would also really appreciate it if you could write a book review to help spread the word.
If you like this series, you might also enjoy my other series:
• The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries (ongoing series): When Fran moves back to her idyllic beach town to take over the family café, she also develops a knack for solving bizarre murders. Each book includes dessert recipes.
• Bookish Cafe Mysteries (ongoing series): A quiet book lover falls for a rugged carpenter... who doesn't even like to read?
• Secret Agent Granny (ongoing series): 70-year-old Barbara is a sweet grandmother—and a badass ex-CIA agent.
• The Wonder Cats Mysteries (ongoing series): three witches and their magical cats solve paranormal murder cases in the mystical town of Wonder Falls.
• The Pink Cupcake Mysteries (10 books): A new divorcée sells delicious cupcakes from a pink food truck, to the chagrin of her ex-husband. Each book includes cu
pcake recipes.
• The Patisserie Mysteries (9 books): An heiress to a famous French patisserie chain takes over the family business, while using her status as a Parisian socialite to solve murders in high society. Each book includes French pastry recipes.
• The Emma Wild Mysteries (4 books): a special holiday cozy series about a famous singer returning to her small Canadian town. Each book includes holiday dessert recipes.
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EXCERPT FROM “A BOOK TO KILL FOR”
“I’ll be okay,” Maggie insisted as she walked with Tammy, who was going to her car.
“I can give you a ride home. It’s no problem,” Tammy offered.
“No. I feel like walking. Really, thanks, Tammy. I’ll stop by and see you next week,” Maggie replied and pulled away from the woman in order to get a few steps ahead of her.
“Do that, honey.” Tammy waved before getting into her car and speeding away.
The rain had let up, and when Maggie looked up, she could see a couple of stars peeking through the clouds that were swiftly sailing overhead. Where had the day gone? Even though her feet had been killing her inside the funeral home, she did feel like walking. Truthfully, she wanted to stop at the bookstore. Poe was there and was probably wondering where his food was.