A Hoe Lot of Trouble (10 page)

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Authors: Heather Webber

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: A Hoe Lot of Trouble

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"Ahh." MacKenna nodded.

I felt compelled to clarify. "As of yet Riley is unaware of that fact."

Why I was talking like a high-priced lawyer, I had no idea. Being around Bridget that morning must have worn off on me.

"But there must be fighting, tension, stress in the household . . ."

"No."

"Nope," Ana agreed.

There hadn't been. Kevin and I hardly ever saw each other. Which could explain the divorce. Well that and Ginger Snap—er, Barlow.

Lines creased his forehead. "No fighting?"

"No. Well," I amended, "one huge blowout two days ago, but Riley was at school."

"So he is unaware of any problems."

The vision of a worm impaling itself on a hook entered my thoughts. "That's not quite true."

"Mrs. Qu—" He paused, caught himself. "N
ina
, you're going to have to give me some details."

I took a deep breath, and dipped a shoulder in a sort of half shrug. "He knows his father cheated on me. I think he can tell the end is near."

"I see."

Ana piped in. "But this all happened recently? His slipping grades?" When MacKenna nodded, Ana continued. "Then Nina and Kevin can't be a part of that as there was no trouble until the boxers."

"The boxers?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No need to go there."

"I'm inclined to agree," he said, and I didn't know whether he was talking about the boxers or Riley's attitude until he added, "that this behavior doesn't stem from Riley's home life."

I thought about the boy with the polka-dotted hair and lip ring. "Perhaps it's those punks he's hanging out with."

He twirled his wedding ring. "The Skinz."

"The Skinz?" Ana repeated. "Sounds like something you'd find in the contraceptive aisle."

It really had been too long since Ana'd had a date. I scooted to the edge of my seat and said, "Who, or what, exactly, are the Skinz?"

His blue eyes narrowed. "Trouble."

* * *

I left MacKenna's office sensing panic taking over my life. It seemed as though everything was out of control. Riley, Kevin . . . Farmer Joe.

"Oh ho ho!" Ana exclaimed as the office door closed behind her.

"Oh ho ho what?"

"Are you blind? Mr. Hubba Hubba MacKenna has the hots for you."

I blinked. "Are you delusional? The man is married. Gold band. Left hand."

She rolled her eyes, wagged her finger at me. "Didn't you see the way he looked at you?"

I hadn't noticed him looking at me at all. Of course, the way I was looking at him . . .
that
was a different story. "You're seeing things. He's just a nice man who cares about the kids here."

In a know-it-all voice, she said, "Don't say I didn't tell you."

"You're certifiable."

She let that pass. "What are you gonna do about Riley?"

"I don't know. Thanks for coming, though. I didn't want to do that alone."

"You're welcome." Glancing at her Wizard of Oz watch, she said, "I've got to get back. I've got a meeting in five minutes."

"You got plans for tonight?" I asked.

"Are you mocking my love life?"

I smiled at her defensive tone. "Just trying to live vicariously through my older, wiser cousin."

"By a month and day! And actually, yes, I do have plans. My final fitting for my bridesmaid dress is tonight. Have you seen yours yet?"

"No." I stopped, mid-stride. "What's that smile?"

"Nothing. Not a thing. I just think that Maria might secretly hate you."

"That bad?"

Her eyebrows arched as she nodded.

Great. Maybe an ugly dress was my punishment for missing all my appointments with the seamstress. "I'm still trying to get out of the wedding."

"Your mother would have an apoplectic fit and die on the spot."

I groaned. "I know."

"I'm serious. You should have seen her after Maria told her that she'd invited my mother to the wedding."

Shading my eyes against the sun, I smiled. "I heard the paramedics got an earful."

"That they did."

In the parking lot, the sun lit up the auburn highlights in her long dark hair, making me think I should see a stylist about getting some myself. I dismissed the thought almost as fast as it had popped into my head. Much too much work.

Ana's heels tapped rapidly against the pavement as she made a beeline for her car. "Hey," she called out. "How did the meeting with Bridget go?"

I cringed, having forgotten for a moment what I'd gotten myself into. It would take forever to explain to Ana. "I'll tell you all about it at lunch tomorrow."

She rolled down the window, started the engine. "Just so you know, I'm still not holding my breath."

I winced as she backed up, slammed on the brakes. The car jerked forward as she switched gears. She stuck her hand out the window and waved as the car swerved, squealing, around the corner.

"Nina?" a very male voice said over my shoulder.

I spun in surprise, my hand flying to my pounding heart. My eyes widened as I took in the man standing casually near my car.

I squinted. "Michael Novak! I haven't seen you in ages." Kevin's former patrol partner was the last person I had expected to see in the school parking lot.

Michael grinned and patted the protruding stomach under his uniform. "I've changed a bit."

He was paunchy where once slim, balding where once hairy, but his face was the same. Crinkly, smiling eyes and a wide warm smile.

"You look great. What are you doing here? Has there been trouble?" I immediately thought of Riley.

"New assignment. School resource officer."

A school cop. I wondered what he did to deserve this torture.

"You always did like kids." I tried to make his new job sound like a good one when in fact, it sounded like hell on earth. But that was me. Just my oh-so humble opinion. I blinked. I was rambling to myself again. Sugar high from that Almond Joy. Had to be. I cleared my throat. "Hey, what do you know about the Skinz?"

His eyes clouded, then cleared. He hooked a thumb in his pocket. His chest puffed. "Those guys? They're harmless."

"Do you really think so?"

"Would I lie to you, Nina?"

My right eyebrow inched up. "I guess not."

What the hell was going on?

Seven

I stopped at my office after leaving the high school. Tam frowned as I opened the door, the cowbell ringing out my arrival.

"Don't start," I warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it." She straightened an already straight stack of papers on her desk. "However, you are aware that today is your day off?"

Here it comes.

"A day for rest. For relaxation. Take a long walk through the woods. Soak in a bath until you look like a raisin. Sleep in. Read a good book. You're not good to any of us if you're cranky and overworked. I only say this—"

"Because I care," we both said at the same time.

"Thank you," I said. "I know you care, Tam, but honestly, there's no way I can relax today, and this thing with the hoes is bothering me."

"Kit mentioned you stopped by the site this morning when he called in for reinforcements. Find out anything?"

"Not a thing. Could I possibly see the work log for Sunday, and all the other days tools have gone missing?"

She nudged her blotter into alignment with the edge of her desk. She sat flanked by two huge potted palms, a queen in her oversized rattan throne chair. "It's on your desk."

I bit my lip to stop the smile. "You knew I'd be in."

"Of course."

Clients often commented that Tam was an exact replica of Queen Elizabeth. I had to agree. Beyond the hairstyle and regal bearing, she even had the haughty tone down pat. It wasn't the words—just the cultured way she spoke them. It tended to freak me out, since Tam had just turned thirty and was six months pregnant.

"I hate that you knew that."

She ran her hand over her belly. "I know."

Smiling, I paused at my office door. My nameplate winked at me. nina quinn, president. Quinn. I needed to decide whether or not to keep that name. Soon.

Sure enough, a stack of files sat on my desk. Each paper corner matched perfectly to the one below it. The pile sat at a precise right angle to my stained blotter.

I slumped back on my chair. I picked up a file and leafed through it. I had six employees. Three full-time, three parttime. Occasionally, I'd hire an extra hand or two in a pinch. Hey, what the IRS didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

After sifting though all the work logs, I thought I had a place to begin. Well, three of them.

Jean-Claude Reaux, Marty Johnson, and Coby Fowler. All had worked the sites where tools had gone missing.

All had police records.

Eenie, meenie, miny, moe.

I dropped the last log on my desk, setting it purposely askew in Tam's sea of neatness.

The metal drawer of my desk creaked as I pulled it open. A small notebook was pressed into the corner of the drawer, right where "Tornado Tam" always set it when she blew through my office on my days off.

I ripped off a piece of paper and tapped a pen on my blotter, not sure what to do about the missing hoes.

If I called in my three suspects, sat them down and asked oh-so surreptitiously about the theft, they were bound to get their shorts in a twist. Over the years I've discovered that people with arrest records got a bit touchy when faced with an accusation, however subtle it is.

I bit my lip. Checked my calendar. I had a few ideas on how to go about this, and I wasn't above setting a trap. Mrs. Bobbi Smythe-Weston had planned a backyard makeover for Friday while her husband was off at an all-day conference, morning till night. I'd fiddle with the schedule a bit to make sure all three worked that day.

I scratched out a few notes to myself, folded the paper and shoved it in my pocket. I dropped the notebook back in the drawer and purposely mussed the pens, paper clips, and rubber bands while I was at it.

I looked up as Tam knocked once sharply before coming into my office. She wrung her hands, wouldn't look me in the eye.

I'd seen that stance before. "Not another hoe!"

She tipped her head. "No. Not precisely."

"Then what?"

"I just took the trash out . . ."

Not surprising, since Tam seemed to empty the trash barrels at fifteen-minute intervals. "And?"

"That missing wheelbarrow?"

"Yeah?"

"It's leaning next to the Dumpster out back."

I came out of my seat. "Are we sure it hasn't been there all along?"

"Nina, it wasn't there fifteen minutes ago."

I pulled into a parking spot in the visitor lot of Station 6, the oldest firehouse in the county.

An early heat wave had my clothes sticking to me, my hair in humidity hell, and my mood sinking fast. It was May—where was spring?

I crossed the lot, thinking about that damn wheelbarrow. Upon closer checking, Tam and I also found one of the missing hoes and a shovel behind the Dumpster too.

Who steals things just to return them two days later? A thief with a conscience? Or maybe—and this was much more plausible—my thief simply didn't want to risk jail time if caught with the items. Whoever took the tools had to have known their disappearance would be noted, and that I'd come looking.

I shook my head, determined not to think about it for the time being.

A stream of soapy water licked at my Keds. The tall muscular firefighter washing down the firehouse's driveway turned off the hose's nozzle as I approached. His eyes traipsed over me, head to toe and back again.

"Is Dave in?"

"Kitchen duty," he said, apparently finding nothing about me to sustain his interest as he hooked a thumb toward the stairs just inside the engine bay.

A girl's ego could seriously get wounded.

The metal stairs leading up to the second floor creaked under my weight. The air smelled heavily of ash and gasoline— not entirely unpleasant. I looked around at the staff hurrying about—fixing this, cleaning that.

I pushed open the door at the top of the steps. Airconditioning slapped me in my face. Ahhh. I peeked at the large rec room. No one was around. Pots clattered behind slatted swinging doors. I pushed on one and it opened into a large informal eat-in area, the remnants of a late lunch— or early dinner—still out on the countertop.

I smiled. "I never thought I'd see the day. Dave Mein doing dishes."

He turned, a look of surprise taking over his face as recognition hit. "Nina Bo-bina!"

I groaned. "Please. Not the Bo-bina."

He swiped soapy hands down his dark blue T-shirt. I accepted his bear hug, losing my breath as he swung me around.

"How the hell are you? How's Peter?"

Dave had been my brother Peter's best friend since Pee Wee football. Their high-school years had been spent tormenting my sister Maria and me. And then they went off to college and became respectable.

"Great. He just bought a partnership at an established pediatrician's office."

"Good for him. He never answers my e-mails."

"Mine either."

"A girl?"

"Undoubtedly more than one."

His gaze hiked over me, though not in a make-me-squirm kind of way. "Still the same. What's it been? Ten years?"

"I saw you at the Easter parade not a month ago."

"Everyone saw me. I was riding the truck."

"You waved to me."

"Hell." He laughed. "I waved to everyone. How's Kevin these days?"

"Quite well, I'm sure."

"Shit. That doesn't sound good."