Chloe Babineaux Private Investigator

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Chloe Babineaux Private Investigator Page 34

by Lisa Clancey


  Chapter Twenty-Four

  While I was waiting for the ravioli to heat up, I thought about calling Petunia. But I didn’t think she was going to tell me anything Sandy hadn’t already told me. I was disappointed Petunia didn’t tell me about the threatening phone call in the first place. I asked her why had she wanted to find the painting, but she didn’t give me a definitive answer. She only wanted to make sure it was safe. And like a dummy, I fell for it.

  I ate lunch and then fell asleep on my sofa. I already mentioned how I didn’t like to sleep in my bed during the day. It was probably because the sofa wasn’t that comfortable and I wouldn’t sleep for hours. I guess I should have thought of that when I offered the sofa to Rick. I actually thought he would just toss and turn, not get in bed with me.

  Rick. What was I thinking? I hadn’t had sex in about eight years and then jumped in bed with Cody’s partner. There was a reason I didn’t have sex as often as my friends. I didn’t want to think about that reason right then, so I didn’t. I fell asleep instead.

  It was almost four when I woke up. I brushed my hair and put it in a ponytail and met my parents at church. On Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings there was always a Catholic Mass to attend in Alexandria. I think there was a mass at every hour on Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings. Believe me, I’ve tried that excuse, and my mother handed me the phone book to look up mass times. So now I went and didn’t argue about it. I liked going to church; I just didn’t think I had to have a witness of my attending church.

  My parents smiled and were quite happy to see me. I was glad I made their day. My day wasn’t half bad either. It would get better when they invited me over to eat supper with them. I didn’t care if we had scrambled eggs as long as I didn’t have to cook. The Mass was over, and I walked them to their car. My mother placed her arm through mine and asked, “So, Chloe, do you want to come over for supper?”

  Yes! I didn’t have to cook. “Well, I don’t know. I guess so.” I made a face as if I really didn’t want to.

  “Good. We’re having leftover Sloppy Joes,” my father said and winked.

  “Sounds heavenly,” I grinned. They knew me so well.

  I met them at their house and waited for them to change out of their church clothes. I was wearing the same thing I had on all day. Jeans, sweater and cowboy boots; I wear comfortable clothes as often as I can.

  I watched TV with my father while my mother threw fries in the oven and heated the Sloppy Joes. Everything smelled so good I couldn’t wait to eat.

  Supper was finally ready, and we sat at the kitchen table to eat. “Remind me to call Cody and tell him I won’t be going to church with him tomorrow,” I said between bites. “He worries if I don’t show up. He’ll also call me at the crack of dawn.”

  They laughed and shook their heads. “You could just start coming with us on Saturdays,” my mother said.

  “Yeah, I could, but then Cody and Morgan wouldn’t have anything to live for on Sunday mornings.”

  My mother made the best Sloppy Joes. I would say everything she made was good, but there are times I have to pass. I didn’t like liver, and she loved making liver and gravy. That was just gross. I didn’t eat organs. She only made it about once a month, if that often. But I could feel it when she did, and I stayed as far away as possible.

  “How’s the search for the missing painting? You aren’t still looking for it, are you?” My father asked between a glare and, ‘Please tell me you aren’t still searching.’

  “I’m gonna talk to a nun tomorrow. That’s why I went to church today, so I could get an early start tomorrow.” I smiled. See? No, problem.

  “Why? Why are you still doing this, Chloebeth? Someone shot you. What will it take?” My mother was pleading. I hate it when she pleads. ‘Please. Please, Chloebeth take a jacket. Please, study for that test. Please, stop dating that thug.’ Alright, I studied for the test, and I eventually stopped dating thugs. And I wear jackets all the time.

  “Mama, listen to me. No one was shooting at me,” I said patiently. “T-Jake was shot at, and I was in the way of the bullets. No one is after me.”

  “T-Jake? Is that his name? Or are you calling him that?” Daddy asked grinning.

  “Yes. That’s what his family calls him. For once I remembered a name. I talked to his wife today. She was very informative. I really liked her. And no, I’m not going to tell you what she told me.”

  “Oh, alright, Chloebeth but you be careful.” She said it like she was giving me her permission to go to a movie. “I’m tired of visiting you in the hospital and why are you visiting a nun?” Mama asked with a tight mouth and shook her head. I knew she’d have a problem with me interviewing a nun. I bet she’d run for her holy water to sprinkle on me after supper.

  “The nun’s the mother of my client. She became a nun when her husband died,” I said with a straight face. “Believe me hospitals aren’t a fun fest for me either.” I paused and then continued, “Now, if I woke up with a smoking hot man beside me in the hospital bed. Well…that might make it worth getting shot.”

  “Not funny, Chloe,” my parents said in unison. Mama didn’t look happy, but Daddy wanted to laugh.

  I helped with the dishes and grabbed my purse to leave.

  “Thanks for supper,” I told them, but at the door, I turned to them, grinned and said, “You know, I don’t have to be the only one dreaming about sex tonight.” I winked and closed the door before Mama could throw a pillow at me.

 

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