The Case of the Red-Handed Rhesus (A Rue and Lakeland Mystery) (44 page)

While he was working with Chuck and his tablet one day, Ace saw a flash of gold in the big ape’s mouth. Through a great deal of bribery, he traded for the item, which proved to be a key identical to the one Natasha had retrieved.

“I think I figured it out,” he told me. “Chuck poked the camera with that stick, then used the stick to grab my keys off the hook. It took me so long to figure that part out, because he put the danged keys
back.
Not quite on their hook, but on the ground underneath, so I thought they’d just fallen.

At the very least, he hadn’t gotten out since Ace took his stick, and his new electronic enrichment was improving his mood dramatically. “It’s too bad he
couldn’t
get out when those people killed that fellow up at main. I’m no fan of the boys in blue, but what happened there was plain wrong.”

Back home, Sara couldn’t start Miss Henderson’s class until after the holidays, because she came down with a nasty case of the flu the day her suspension ended, having caught it from Julie Carver on their one playdate. The playdate was successful, so getting the flu was worth it. I expected it to hit Will next, but in fact, it took down Lance and me. Will was the only one who stayed healthy. The illness lasted until Christmas break began. Christmas with the Oeschles was the first time I allowed any of us but Natasha near anyone elderly, and I hadn’t planned to do that. Nana didn’t catch it from us, and neither did Margie’s children, but I kept us mostly quarantined until school went back in session.

When she did go back, if she didn’t flourish in her new classroom, at least she seemed to suffer less, and I only had to deal with one call from the teacher, early on.

It came less than a week after the new year. “Mrs. Rue,” explained Miss Henderson, “You need to discuss appropriateness and context with Sara.”

“What do you mean?”

“The short version is she grossed everyone out at lunch.”

I could hear Sara sobbing hysterically in the background. “Let me talk to her.”

“I only told them what
you said
,” Sara bawled.

“What did
I
say?”

Suddenly, the tears dried up, and she began a recitation. “Do you know what’s in the chicken you’re eating? Have you considered what genetically modified organisms are doing to our foods?”
The GMO lecture. I knock down a dead man’s head, and she remembers my classroom spiel word for word instead.

“Honey,” I interrupted her, “I think I see what went wrong. You should never talk about GMOs at the actual lunch table. The point is to educate, not to make people vomit.” She put the teacher back on, and I promised it wouldn’t happen again.

A few weeks after that, in the middle of February, Travis called while we were getting the kids dressed. “I am not on the phone and you are not talking to me,” he practically sang.

“Congratulations! Social services approved you that fast?”

“No, no, no. Nothing to do with that. Like I said, this call isn’t happening.”

“Okay,” I interrupted him. “I’m assuming the job search has been put on hold.”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Well, I had assumed since Dr. Prescott is retiring at the end of the year . . .”

“They don’t want two empty seats to fill, Noel.”

“But I thought he left the search committee.”

“He tried to.”

“Mmm.”

“So act
surprised
when he calls you.”

“Wait. The search hasn’t been put on hold. The APES meeting was back in January. And you’re not calling me to say somebody else got hired. Are you?”

“Nope! You can tell Lance he’s now a trailing spouse. But maybe he’ll put in for Dr. Prescott’s slot.”

I hung up and stared at my husband, who was wrestling William into a sweater, an attempt to make him presentable for court. Chandra had reassured us at every meeting that things were going well. While I wouldn’t fully believe it until the judge shook all of our hands later this morning, I was beginning to think at least some of her words might be true. “Honey,” I said, “I think we might be able to afford this after all.”

“Well, that’s good.” The sweater popped over Will’s head and immediately shot off again. “Because it’s a little late to do anything about it.”

Yes, it was. More than a little. But that was fine with me. Indeed, it was wonderful. “Lance, don’t fight the sweater,” I advised. “We’ll take it along. Come on, kids, let’s go! We’ve still got to drop off Tasha at school on the way in.”

We headed out the door, a motley little parade. Lance kissed my cheek in passing, then locked the door behind us as the kids piled into the van. He still hadn’t figured out I’d gotten hired. Well, he’d know soon enough. I kissed him back, not on the cheek, but on the lips, full on and hard. “You’re going to be an awesome daddy. No. Check that. You already are.”

Jessie Bishop Powell
grew up in rural Ohio. She now lives in Montgomery, Alabama, with her husband and their two children. She has master’s degrees in English and Library Science from the University of Kentucky.

Her children have Asperger’s syndrome, though their issues differ drastically from those of William and Sara. The first book in this series,
The Marriage at the Rue Morgue
, was published by Five Star in 2014. You can find out more about the author and her works on her blog Jester Queen, at
http://jesterqueen.com
.