No Gun Intended (10 page)

Chapter Nineteen

I did fall asleep and didn't wake up until noon the next day. It was raining, and I was enjoying the sound of the drops hitting the roof. I curled up tight under the duvet and watched the giant sequoia branches swaying in the wind outside the window.

Eventually I rolled out of bed, took a shower, combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and pulled on my sweats. I was achy and stiff and my feet were tender. I sauntered downstairs to find the house empty, except for Dusty, who was wagging her tail ferociously at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, you.” I rubbed her ears and hugged her. “Where is everybody?”

In the kitchen I found a note. Mickey and Luis had gone to the police station. Mom and Dad were grocery shopping.

I made myself a triple espresso and sat down in the living room, my feet up on the coffee table. The rain was falling harder, but it still sounded comforting to me. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, or going anywhere. I felt like watching a movie.

I moved into the den and started sorting through my parents' DVD collection. I was happy to locate
Persuasion,
the Jane Austen story starring Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root. It might be my favorite romance film of all time, and I have a huge crush on Ciaran Hinds, even though I can never remember how to pronounce his name. It's like that girl's name, Siobhan, which you would think would sound like “see-OB-han” but it's really “shiVAWN.” Makes no sense.

I popped in the movie and lounged on the futon, which Luis had made up neatly, settling in for some good old-fashioned comfort.

Until the doorbell rang.

It then occurred to me that it was odd my family had left me alone.

Dusty barked and waggled up to the front door. I followed cautiously behind. “Who is it?”

“Sugar, it's me. Sal.”

I opened the door. “Hi.”

“What are you up to?”

“Watching
Persuasion.
”

“Aaah, with that dreamboat Ciaran” (he pronounced it “Keeran”) “Hinds as Captain Wentworth and that mousy but irresistible whatshername Root as Anne Elliot?”

I grinned. “Amanda. And, my feelings exactly.”

“Want some company?”

I hesitated. “As long as…”

“You don't have to talk.”

“Perfect. Come in.”

Sal entered and I shut the door behind him, but not without first noticing a mug on the table by the porch chair, which held a blanket. “You've been on guard?”

“At your service, milady.” He bowed. “The others are out doing things that need to be done. I heard the TV come on, knew you were up.” He held out a bag. “Cookies. My special recipe.”

I peeked inside. “Snickerdoodles?”

“The best.” I took one and we retired to the den, where I reached for the remote to restart the movie, but paused. “I keep thinking about last night.”

“That's to be expected, for heaven's sakes.”

“Not just what happened to me, but this stalker dude. I don't know what we should do if he calls again.”

“I doubt he will, since Sylvia cut him down to size on the phone last night.”

“I don't understand why he was calling here so late.”

Sal considered that for a moment. “I don't either. Maybe he was drunk and feeling desperate.” He held out the bag of cookies to me. “Have another.”

I took three.

Near the end of the movie, when Anne discovers Captain Wentworth's letter and runs after him in the street, Sal grabbed my hand. “This is it, kid. The moment we've been waiting for.” Then they kissed, we both got weepy, and I ate another cookie.

That's when Mom and Dad walked in, laden with packages. “We're home, darlings!” Mom called.

She found us in the den, holding our breaths as Captain Wentworth makes the announcement at a party that he and Anne will be married. In unison, we spoke the heartless father's lines, “Anne? You want to marry Anne? Whatever for?” And then Sal yelled at the screen, “You bastard daddy!”

I had a new soul mate.

Mom set two bags on the floor by the futon. “For you, dear.” She patted the top of my head. “We did more than grocery shop.”

I opened the first one to reveal new flannel pajamas, a bathrobe, and slippers. “Oh, Mom, this is so nice.”

“I knew you wouldn't want to put those others on again. I threw them out this morning. Open the other one.”

I looked inside to find a big shoebox. “You didn't!”

“Mmmm. I did.”

I pulled out the gray suede boots with the blue toes and heels. “Holy shit, Mother, to use your words, these are crazy beautiful!” I jumped up, forgetting how much the bottoms of my feet hurt, winced, and gave her a big hug. “I can't wait to wear them.”

Sal picked up a boot. “
Trés élégant
, Syl. Perhaps we should decorate the bakery in some cowboy theme and all wear beautiful boots.”

“That's a fucking terrible idea, Sal dear. Now, I'm going to help Jeff put the groceries away. Thanks for looking after Annabelle.”

“Oh, honey. She looked after me, too.” Sal gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I'm off. I'll watch movies with you any time. Just ring. And don't worry about Stalker Creep. He's as effective as Mr. Elliot. Weak, in the end. In the front, too, I imagine.” I laughed and walked him to the door. “Anyway, he's no match for the Starkeys or those two gorgeous young men you have in your life.”

When Sal was gone I found Dad in the kitchen, folding up the reusable grocery bags. “Muffinhead, how are you feeling?”

“I'm fine, Dad. Just a little sore. When did Mickey and Luis leave?”

“Same time as us, so it has been about three hours, I guess. No news?”

I shook my head. “They went to see Dawson and Monroe?”

“Yes, to make sure they knew about Greta and the kidnapping. They also were talking about tracking down that boyfriend of Claudia's, Wesley Young.”

“Good. I'm going to get dressed and get busy myself.”

Mom stopped trimming the flowers she bought. “And do what?”

“See Claudia. Will you come with me, Mom? Maybe you can take a look at her chart, just in case…”

“Darling, you should rest today. Watch another movie. What have you eaten besides Snickerdoodles? Let me heat up some soup.”

“How about a sandwich? Then I can take it with me, if you drive.”

Dad resumed folding the bags. “She's not going to change her mind, Syl. Might as well make that sandwich.”

“Well, shit. All right. Go get dressed. I'll be ready to go when you come back.”

***

We made it to the hospital without incident. Claudia looked the same, though I thought she had a little bit more color in her cheeks. That might have been wishful thinking.

Mom found a nurse and asked if she could see Claudia's chart. She said she was a doctor friend of Nancy and Phillip and was trying to reassure them that everything was being done for their daughter. The nurse listened to all of this patiently and replied, “You can't see the chart if you're not her guardian.” Then she walked away.

Back in Claudia's room, Mom pouted. “I'd never make a detective. I don't know how to lie to get people to tell me things.”

“What are you talking about? You got patients in the ER to reveal their innermost darkest secrets and promise you their firstborns!”

She laughed. “It's easier when you're saving someone's life.”

I opened the drawer in the bedside table. “I want you to look at this note, Mom. I know we showed you a picture of it, but I want your opinion on the handwriting.”

“Crap, honey, I'm not a handwriting expert.”

“I know, but I have a funny feeling about it, that it's too neat. Tell me what you think.” I reached inside the drawer. “That's weird.”

“What.”

“It's gone.” I searched again to make sure and closed the drawer.

“Would the police have taken it?”

I shrugged. “Don't know. I wonder who has visited her. Like maybe…”

“That bad boyfriend?”

I nodded. “Let's talk to another nurse this time.”

We approached the nurses' station in the hall and I stopped a uniformed young woman, who was grabbing her purse. “Excuse me, could we talk to you about Claudia Bigelow? Nothing confidential. We're friends, and…”

“Sure, I guess so. I'm heading to the cafeteria, if you want to join me.”

“That sounds great!” Mom was way too peppy.

The three of us aimed for the elevator. “I sure hope Claudia wakes up. She has a lot to live for.”

“I'm sure she does,” I said, “but what do you mean, exactly?”

“That boyfriend of hers? He's been here after visiting hours a few nights. He holds her hand and cries. He loves her SO much.”

The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. “Wesley, you mean?”

She nodded. “Yes. He's a hunkadoris.”

“Holy shit,” said Mom.

***

We had coffee with Tiffany the nurse, who told us that even though the police had instructed the staff to keep an eye on Claudia's visitors, she didn't think it was anyone's business who Claudia was in love with and besides, it was clear that Wesley really, really loved her because she saw him crying once.

I tried to explain to her that there were lots of reasons for crying, like feeling bad that you hit your girlfriend so hard that she was lying in a coma.

“Not Wesley. Uh uh. I have a seventh sense about this stuff.” Tiffany focused on a text that just announced itself with a bell on her phone.

“What's your sixth sense?” I placed the palm of my hand over her phone's screen.

“Huh?” She yanked her phone away.

“How old are you, dear?” Mom asked.

“Twenty-seven.”

“And you're a nurse? Really?” I was amazed, not because of her age, but because she was so dumb.

She stared at me, all offended.

Mom took over. “Tiffany, when does Wesley usually show up?”

“I don't know. I've seen him only late at night, when I'm on that shift.” She checked her screen again. “Anyway, I have to go now. Bye.” She was dialing someone as she left us.

“Annabelle, why don't the police have someone stationed outside of Claudia's door, for chrissakes?”

“They can't provide protection for everyone who gets mugged. It's not like Claudia is a foreign dignitary or a mob boss or a movie star.”

We finished our coffees and took the elevator to the parking garage. “I suppose we'll have to do our own stakeout for Wesley Young.”

Mom was about to open the car door. “Not tell the police? We should tell the police that he has been coming here.”

I shook my head. “We'll tell Mickey and Luis. I bet you the police will be happy to have two out-of-town policemen/PIs sit in the hospital hall for a couple of nights.

“And you?”

“I just might join them. I'd like to check in with Nancy and Phillip, though. See what they may have heard or seen.”

We got in Mom's car, a new light blue Smart car. “This is the doggone cutest little car I've ever seen,” I said.

“Why are you talking like John Wayne?”

“I guess these boots are made for talkin'.” I brought an ankle up to rest on my knee, which wasn't easy in that car, and stroked my new gray boot.

“Big mistake, that. Buying those for you.”

We pulled out of the parking place and drove down the hill while I called Mickey.

***

We met Mickey and Luis downtown at the bar at Jake's Grill and ordered beers. They filled us in on their meeting with Monroe and Dawson about the previous night. The detectives were going to pay Greta a visit and find out more about Julius or Jules. The van hadn't been located, though I hadn't given them much to go on there.

“Let's say Greta killed Hank or got Julius to do it. Somehow she hears that Claudia needs a gun, so she arranges for the drop. Then we show up and she learns that the gun ended up with Annabelle. So Annabelle is kidnapped in order to get the gun back.” Mickey took a swig of beer.

“Is this another way of telling me I should have kept my mouth shut around Greta?” I took two swigs of beer.

“No. Well, I wish you had, and then hadn't been kidnapped, but that's not why I brought all of this up. It seems that things are falling into place. If the police find Greta and Julius, that part of the puzzle will be solved. I doubt that Loren Scranton is involved. Maybe he's somehow obsessed with Sylvia, but we'll put that to rest eventually…”

“That weasly dickbrain,” Mom interjected.

“So that just leaves us with Claudia and Wesley. And maybe we'll see Wesley tonight, and then…”

“Then we can have a normal visit!”

“That would be very nice,” said Luis, and we all clinked glasses.

Mine was a halfhearted clink. I wasn't going to pin my hopes on any hail mary pass in the ninth inning.

Chapter Twenty

Back at home Mickey heard from Dawson that Greta was nowhere to be found. The billiards club only had a cell number for her, and she wasn't answering. Probably because they found the phone stashed in a garbage can in the kitchen.

I called the Bigelows at the hotel, but they didn't answer, so I left a message.

There wasn't much to be done until we were to go to the hospital that night, so Dad suggested that we have an early dinner at 3 Doors Down, one of their favorite haunts. I wasn't too hot on going out, but I insisted to everyone that I was fine and went upstairs to change my clothes.

Mickey was lying on the bed. Dusty was lying next to him, her head resting on his chest while he absentmindedly stroked her back. “Dusty is a lot easier to get along with than Bonkers.”

“The two of you look very content. I'm not sure that Mom and Dad allow her up on the bed.”

Mickey didn't shift his position. “I won't tell, Dusty won't tell. Our lives are in your hands.”

I drew my fingers across my lips, indicating they were zipped shut. “When we get home, I think we should stay in bed for three days and order takeout.”

“Sounds good. By the way, I think we should get a bigger place.”

“Really? I love the apartment.”

“Me, too. But it used to be just for me, and we could use some more room, maybe not right now, but eventually, so I think I'll start looking for places when we get home.”

Uh oh,
I thought.
He wants room for children
. “That would be exciting.”

“Plus, Luis and Ruby need a place to live. Maybe I can find a building that would suit all of us.…”

Great. If we don't have any kids of our own, we can share theirs until we do.
“Mickey, um, it's wonderful news about Ruby and the baby, huh?”

He rolled over on his side and regarded me. Dusty sat up and yawned, then jumped down from the bed and sauntered out. “Sure. I'm happy for them.”

Pregnant pause, no pun intended.

“So, are you thinking that you and I…?”

He sat up. “Babies? Uh, Annabelle, look, I never thought I would be a good father, and I have to say, if it's really important to you to have children, then we can talk about it, but it's never been something that I felt passionate about, and I'm not confident that…”

He didn't finish because I pounced on him and gave him a huge kiss. “Oh, thank goodness, Mickey. I was worried that you were one of those big family men since you didn't have one yourself.”

He smiled. “Neither did you, so I was thinking the same thing about you!”

“We'll be stellar as aunt and uncle to the little Maldonado.”

We kissed again. “Do me a favor, babe.”

“What?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“Mickey, I'm still sore and stiff, and everyone's awake, and these walls aren't very soundproof, and…”

He put a finger to my lips to shush me. “All you'll have to do is lie on your back and be quiet, and all I have to do is kiss you all over.”

“All over?” I whispered.

It was all over, not too quickly, and perfectly done.

***

The restaurant was convivial, and my parents were greeted like regulars. We all seemed to be ravenous. Dad picked out a wine that we shared while eating hors d'oeuvres of potato fritters dipped in raclette cheese. I could feel our collective tensions give way to lighthearted conversation while we dug into our entrees. Matt the bartender and Zack our waiter kept the glasses filled and the banter flowing. I was starting to feel like I was having a normal visit.

Silly me.

We decided to splurge and have dessert. As our dinner dishes were being cleared away, Dad suddenly bolted up from his chair and pointed out the window. “Is that him?”

We all whipped around to see where he was pointing. A man was standing outside the restaurant and peering in the window. He was short and fat and had blond hair.

Mom put her hand on Dad's arm. “No, dear, it's not. Sit down, now. Take a breath.”

We all laughed like this was funny, but the fact was, I had never seen my father so rattled, and it not only upset me, it infuriated me. Jeff Starkey was the best human being the world could ever find, and I couldn't stand that I was once again bringing turmoil into his life.

I excused myself and went to the ladies room. While I was washing my hands, my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen and didn't recognize the number. I hesitated, but dried my hands and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Phil Bigelow here, Anna. Got your message.”

“Annabelle. How's Claudia?”

“Just the same. It's hard on Nancy.”

But not on you?
“Any news about the boyfriend?”

“Nah. He's probably halfway to Syria by now.” He guffawed.

“Mr. Bigelow, do you know if Claudia has had any other visitors?”

“Wouldn't know. Why don't we get together again? See if we can hash out some details.” He chuckled.

“Will you both be staying in Portland for a while?”

“Well, Nancy's here for the duration. I have a job, after all, so we're driving up to Seattle as we speak. She'll do some laundry, get some more clothes, all of that stuff, then I'll fly to Miami and she'll return here.”

“Miami needs a lot of ball bearings, I guess?”

“It's a big business. Hey, I've been meaning to ask you. Are you related to Ringo? Because I never liked the Beatles, but, uh, I could be convinced that I was, uh, mistaken.”

Never liked the Beatles? This guy was not only a slimebag, he was a moron.

“Wow, Phil, didn't you figure that out yet? My Dad, he's really Ringo. Look closely next time.” He didn't respond. “Thanks for the call. I'll contact Nancy day after tomorrow. Bye.”

I hung up before he could say anything else.

I returned to the table and sat down. “I've been slimed.” I swallowed some wine. “Phillip Bigelow. Ick. He's going back to Miami to deal with his ball bearings, while his daughter is in a coma. Meanwhile, he talks to me like he's going to ask me out on a date.” I took another swallow.

“Well, I certainly hope his balls find their bearings quickly,” Mom said brightly.

Everyone laughed but me. Phillip Bigelow had soured my mood and to my mind, the only things to lighten it were the pinot noir and the exquisitely prepared chocolate mousse, into which I dove with my spoon, with abandon.