This Doesn't Happen in the Movies (22 page)

When we arrived back at the condo, Bob and Ace were kind enough to help me upstairs and into my place.  They rearranged the furniture in the living room so that I could lie on my belly on the couch and see the television without craning my neck.  It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it protected my sensitive derrière.  Ace fixed me a sandwich and a glass of Coke, completed with a straw for easy drinking.

“You need anything else?” Bob asked.

“A couple of aspirin.”  My rear hurt.

Ace scooted into the kitchen and returned with a bottle.  I took two greedily.

“Anything else?” Bob asked again.

“No, I’m fine now.  Thanks for everything.”

“Here’s the phone,” Ace said, putting the cordless down on the coffee table.  “You call if you need anything.  We’re right downstairs, so it’s easy to get here.”

Bob and I exchanged an amused look.  “Thanks, Ace.  That’s good to know.”

“We’ll check on you later,” Bob said.  “Don’t worry about anything.”

“I won’t.”

They left and I soon drifted off while the television played Ace’s favorite movie,
The Terminator
.  The phone rang, waking me.  “Hello,” I mumbled into the phone.  On the television screen, Arnold was doing some nasty surgery on his electronic eye.  Cool scene.

“Where have you been?” Cal asked, more than a little concern in his voice.  “I've been calling you since yesterday morning.  You’re not going to believe what I found out.”

“It’s been a helluva day or two,” I said.  “You won’t believe what I’ve been through.”

“Yeah?  Well, remember that list I gave you, with the accidental deaths?”  He didn’t wait for a response, but barreled on ahead.  “One of them related to a little girl named Sally Hanson.  Guess who that is?”

“The daughter of Maggie Delacroix,” I said.  I heard complete silence on the other end of the phone.

“How did you know that?” Cal demanded finally.

“Have I got a story for you,” I said, and proceeded to relate the events of the last twenty-four hours, complete with my theory of the setup, and its relation to
The Big Sleep
, and my not-so-detective-like wound in the ass.  Cal roared with laughter after I assured him that the wound was far from deadly, or even serious.

“I’m impressed, Reed.  You actually managed to solve your first case.  Successfully, I might add.  You put the pieces together just like Bogie.  Life imitating art.”

“Or something like that.  Now maybe I can convince my dad that I have a real job.”

“I doubt that,” Cal said.  “But you have my vote.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Hey, I didn’t do very much.  I’ll help anytime you want, as long as I can stay in my own home.”

“Always,” I laughed as I hung up.  What would I do without Cal?  I turned my attention back to the movie, but quickly drifted off again.  I was dreaming of Arnold and Bogie when the doorbell rang.  The television illuminated the room in pastel blue.  I’d been asleep for a while this time.

“Door's open,” I hollered, wondering why Ace didn't let himself in.

“How are you feeling?” Willie's soft voice drifted through the dimness.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sit up.

“No, stay there.”  Willie came into the room and sat on the edge of the coffee table.  “You doing okay?”

Much better since you're here, I thought.  “Where's your boyfriend?”

“I'm not sure.  I think he and I are finished.  But it's okay.”  She smiled at me.  “Do you need anything?”

“No,” I said.  “But the company's nice.”

“Are you okay?  I mean, with the boyfriend thing?”

“Uh huh.”  She smiled again.  “Really, I am.”

“Okay.”  She did seem fine, so I let it go.

Willie picked up
The Big Sleep
DVD. “This one looks interesting.  Want to watch it?”

“Sure.”  I was just glad she wanted to stay.  And I was impressed that she wanted to watch an old detective story.  Maybe this recuperation wouldn't be as bad as I had thought.

She slid off the coffee table and inserted the DVD into the player.  Right then the phone rang.

“You want me to leave?” Willie asked.

I shook my head.  Willie watched the movie as I picked up the phone.

“Hello, dear.  It’s Mother.”

“Hi, Mom.”  I yawned.  “How are you?”

“I’m fine, dear.  I just wanted to remind you about our flight.  I don’t want you to forget.  Are you okay?  It sounds like you were asleep.  Were you taking a nap?  And in the middle of the day.  I thought you were working.  You know your father didn’t think you could make a go of this detective thing.”

“I’m still working, Mom.  I’m still a detective.”  I felt groggy.  I turned gingerly on my side, careful of my wounded butt.  I rolled my eyes at Willie, wishing I could hang up on my mother.

My mother harrumphed at me.  “That’s nice, dear.  I just want you to be happy.  I only wish you would pick something a little less dangerous.  Goodness, what if someone tries to shoot you?  I don’t know what I would do then.  You know that the shows, like that
Murder, She Wrote,
aren’t at all realistic.  That Angela Lansbury always comes out smelling like a rose.  Really.”

 I made a quick decision: now was definitely
not
the time to tell her about getting shot in the ass.  I could tell her about finishing my first case, and my not-so-near brush with death, when they visited for the holidays.  When she could see for herself that I was perfectly fine.

“You really sound terrible, dear,” she continued, barely taking a breath.  “Are you sure you’re okay?  You sound funny, like you did the other day.  You’re not doing drugs, are you?”

I chuckled.  “No, Mother.”

To read other exciting adventures in the Reed Ferguson Mystery Series, or for information on Renée's other books, contests, and freebies, visit her website –
www.reneepawlish.com
.

Biography

Renée Pawlish is the award-winning author of the bestselling
Nephilim Genesis of Evil
, the first in the Nephilim trilogy, the Reed Ferguson mystery series (
This Doesn't Happen In The Movies
and
Reel Estate Rip-off
), The Noah Winters YA Adventure series (
The Emerald Quest)
,
Take Five
, a short story collection, and
The Sallie House: Exposing the Beast Within
, a nonfiction account of a haunted house investigation.
Renée has been called “a promising new voice to the comic murder/mystery genre” and “a powerful storyteller”. 
Nephilim Genesis of Evil
has been compared to Stephen King and Frank Peretti.

Renée was born in California, but has lived most of her life in Colorado. When she's not hiking, cycling, or chasing ballplayers for autographs, she is writing mysteries, thrillers and horror. She loves to travel and has visited numerous countries around the world. She has also spent many summer days at her parents' cabin in the hills outside of Boulder, which was the inspiration for the setting of Taylor Crossing in her novel
Nephilim: Genesis of Evil
.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT