Trouble In Bloom (17 page)

The fourth construction worker sitting there said, "You really ought to think about a new handbag. That thing looks like it's been run over by a semi."

Actually, it had been run over by a freight train, but I didn't want to dwell on the past.

"Yo, yo, he's right. Somethin' small and cute. Like you." This from a man sipping an IBC root beer with a straw.

One of the others, the only one wearing a hard hat, said, "Yeah, yeah. Chanel maybe."

"No, Kate Spade."

"Definitely Kate Spade. Hook yourself up."

I had a sneaking suspicion . . . "My sister's been here, hasn't she?"

"Has she ever. What a looker, that one," said Hard Hat.

"Except that dog," the IBC guy said. "Yappiest thing I ever did hear."

Oh no! I knew that dog! Gracie. She'd been, ah, a kindasorta gift from Kit. One that I regifted to my sister Maria as a wedding present.

Both being high maintenance and all, they got along well.

I rushed up the stairs, feeling every muscle in my legs.

"Don't forget—Kate Spade!"

"I'll keep that in mind," I called over my shoulder.

"Hey!" one shouted, "a little more product in your hair will do wonders!"

So I'd heard.

Pushing open my front door, I found my mother on all fours, a spray bottle filled with a mixture of water and white vinegar in one hand, a wadded up paper towel in the other.

I winced at the sharp smell. Yuck.

There were other smells too. Cleansers. Lemon Pledge, for one. The citrus of Mr. Clean. I looked around. Everything sparkled.

"Did Gracie go everywhere?" Gracie had bladder control issues, something I learned the hard way when she'd been staying with me.

"Don't be silly," my mother said. "Help me up."

Her hand grasped mine and I pulled. "Then why is my house so clean?"

"You should think about a housekeeper."

"I don't need a housekeeper."

"I beg to differ, c
hérie
."

Deep breath. I smelled, I smelled . . . "Are those cream puffs?" I sprinted into the kitchen, my aches and pains all but a distant memory in light of freshly baked cream puffs. I reached for one.

"Ow!" I jumped, rubbing the love handle my mother had just pinched.

"Aren't you on a diet?"

"Why are you here?" I asked, ignoring her. "There's no construction going on, so you don't need to stay."

She tsked. "No need to snap at me just because you're hungry."

"Who are the cream puffs for?"

She dropped a cookie sheet into the double sink. "Oh, people."

"What kind of people?"

"People I know."

"Why are you being so evasive?"

"Why are you being so nosy?"

"It's my house!"

"Yes, it is. Did I mention you ought to think about a housekeeper?"

Deep, deep breath. I ignored the sinking feeling my mother was planning something. At this point there was nothing I could do or say that would change her mind—she knew it and I knew it, so I gave up the battle.

"Where's Riley?" I asked. School had been out for a while—I'd expected to see him camped out on the couch watching reruns of F
ear Factor.

"At Mrs. Greeble's."

I looked out the window, down the road. "He's been doing a lot of work for her lately."

Riley had become the neighborhood go-to guy. He raked leaves, cleaned gutters, and did all sorts of odd jobs and errands. It was his new job—and so far he loved it.

"She needs the help. Such a big house for one person."

Mrs. Greeble's husband had passed away last spring, and she hadn't resigned herself to moving to a smaller place. The upkeep of her home was beginning to take a toll, both physically and financially. I hoped Riley kept that in mind when he charged her.

The picketers about-faced. I motioned to them. "Have they been out there all day?"

"Since eight."

"You've been here since eight?"

She waved a dishrag at me. "There was a lot of cleaning to do."

"Yeah, yeah. I need a housekeeper."

She smiled. We launched into a conversation about Maria enjoying her newlywedded life and about Gracie who needed medication. Then my mother needed to know every detail of Genevieve's death and what was going to happen with the show.

By the time I was done explaining, I longed for a cream puff.

"Kevin called," my mother said.

There went my appetite.

"Did he say why?"

"No, though I suspect it has something to do with the murder."

I suspected too. Note to self: Avoid Kevin at all costs.

"Anyone else call?" I asked. I'd noticed the light on my phone wasn't blinking. No messages.

"Like?"

"I don't know." I swung my foot back and forth.

"What are you not telling your mama?"

"Did you know I need a housekeeper?"

She grinned. "It's a good thing I love you, Nina Colette."

"Right back at ya."

Reaching across the counter, she handed me a cream puff. I'd like to say I took my time and enjoyed every morsel.

I fairly inhaled it.

"I'll need two of these for Buzz and Winky." I grabbed two more off the plate, set them on a napkin.

"Who?"

"The picketers."

"Ah. Honey and bees?" she asked.

She was referring to that old adage about attracting bees by using honey.

"Exactly."

Four webbed aluminum chairs sat vacant on my front lawn. Not a hard hat to be seen.

Which was probably a good thing since I hadn't thought to bring cream puffs for the construction workers.

Buzz and Winky circled the small island in my front yard like guppies that'd lost their school.

When they spotted me they swam a little slower—and came to a complete stop when they saw the cream puffs in my hand. "What happened to the guys?" I asked, motioning to the chairs.

"Clear out everyday at exactly four o'clock." Winky eyed the cream puff, practically drooling.

Buzz shifted from foot to foot. His worn-out Nikes skimmed across the ground as if doing a jig. Faded jeans hugged his ample waist, and a mustard yellow hoodie emblazoned with ST. BLAISE ELEMENTARY clung to his fullfigured frame.

Since it was getting late and I needed to get to the studio, I decided to get to the point.

The point being my informal interrogation.

Using the cream puffs as an incentive.

Who, after all, could pass up a cream puff?

The great cream puff mission was all about information gathering. If my hunch was correct, someone had paid Winky and Buzz to picket my house. Their placards never mentioned any kind of organization, and I suspected there wasn't one. Well, one they belonged to.

This picketing was a PR stunt pure and simple. All I had to do was prove it. And find out who hired them.

Piece of . . . cream puff.

"Can I ask you two some questions?"

Buzz's Nikes skimmed faster. Put on some Celtic music and he could be the next big River Dancer. "Sure. I guess."

Winky never took his eyes off the cream puffs as he nodded.

"What organization do you work for?"

"Moral TV," Winky said at the same time Buzz said, "TV Morality."

They looked at each other, then at me. Color slowly crept into Buzz's cheeks.

"Moral TV," Buzz said.

"So, if I go inside, log onto the computer, and do a search for a group called Moral TV, will I find it?"

"Morality TV," Buzz quickly put in. "My bad."

My eyebrows arched. They were my built-in BS meters, and these two were seriously BSing me.

Someone had definitely paid them to picket. These guys had been on the news every night this week, garnering
Hitched or Ditched
a lot of PR.

"Have either of you met Thad Cochran?"

Buzz's feet stilled. Winky's nose twitched. Neither said anything.

"Willie Sala?"

Again, nothing.

"Sherry Cochran?"

"Never heard of 'em," Winky said.

Buzz wouldn't look me in the eye. "You?" I asked, pointblank.

"Me?"

"Do you know them?"

His left foot tapped. "Not personally."

"You sure?"

"Very."

My eyebrows jumped into my hairline. I didn't believe him for a second. But I also didn't know how to prove he was lying.

"Listen," I told them. "Do you know I have a gaping hole in my living room ceiling?"

They shook their heads.

"Do you know how hard it is to get construction workers here? On time? Willing to do the work?"

"No ma'am," Winky mumbled.

Ma'am.
Hmmph. That made me angrier.

"Well, let me tell you what I do know. I know someone's paid you to stand out here. I know that my ex-husband is a cop. And I know that if you're here tomorrow on my front lawn, I will make a few phone calls and have you removed. You two are standing in the way of my house being put back together again, and I've had just about enough of it. So I don't know how much your boss is paying you, but is it worth getting hauled into jail? Do we understand each other?" I wasn't sure they
could
be arrested, but it sounded good.

Both nodded in unison.

"Good." I smiled and held up the napkin. "Cream puff?"

They each took one, dropped their pickets and ran.

I watched them jump into their car, a newer model Hyundai. And as Buzz drove off, I couldn't help but think I could get used to the new me.

"He'll be here, sugar."

Perry sounded so sure. I wasn't. I had yet to hear from Bobby. It was as if he'd dropped off the face of the earth. Gone. Poof.

I looked at my watch. Or rather, where my watch should be. I'd misplaced it somewhere and hadn't been able to find it. My mind hadn't quite accepted the fact that it wasn't on my wrist.

Perry held up his arm. "It's six-thirty."

"Thank you."

"How about tomorrow?" he asked.

"Tomorrow?"

"Shopping. I can't believe you're wearing linen at this time of year."

I smoothed my wrinkled pants. "Is there a time of year for linen?"

He shook his head. "We have a lot of work to do with you if you don't know the answer to that question."

Best to get started right away. I pulled out my date book. "Tomorrow afternoon is good."

He pulled out his PDA. "Twelve?"

I penciled it in. "Meet you at the mall?"

"In front of Macy's. And bring your credit card."

Thankfully, I was in a position where money wasn't an issue. I wasn't rich by any means, but my job provided well for me. Still, I had a few palpitations about spending large amounts of money on clothes. It was just something I'd never done.

The old me would have stressed over it. The new me still stressed over it, but pushed it to the back of my mind so I didn't think about it too much.

Louisa bustled around the set. The water bed had been made with red satin sheets and a red velvet bedspread.

Classy.

Jessica perched on the end of the bed, dressed in a tiny nightie sure to get men's blood pressures—and ratings— soaring.

Willie stood in the corner, talking to one of the executives. Technicians checked wires, cables, cameras and lights. Taping was set to begin in twenty minutes.

Still no sign of Bobby.

Don't care, don't care
, I chanted to myself.

My phone rang, and I immediately flipped it open.

So much for not caring.

Only it wasn't Bobby. It was Kit. Something tightened in my chest when I remembered those tears in his eyes. I found a quiet corner to talk in peace.

"Hey," I said. "You okay?"

"Fine."

All right. I wouldn't push the issue—even though I wanted to.

"What's up?"

"We've got a problem."

"With the mini?"

"The mini's done, looks great, Pippi loved it."

I watched Louisa run back and forth across the set. She seemed to do more work than anyone else. "Then what's the problem?"

"Do you remember Minnie?"

"Oh no! She's not dead, is she?"

"No," he said in a way that made me sound crazy.

I'd been hanging around Nels and Roxie too long. I looked around for them. They must have gone home for the day—or were still in the editing room.

"She wheeled herself into the common room before the makeover was over."

"So, no surprise."

"Not for her."

"What am I hearing in your voice?"

"Nina, Minnie's ring is gone. Big diamond. And Pippi thinks one of us took it. She's going to be in the office at eight tomorrow morning to speak with you."

Yes, my employees all had rap sheets, but I trusted them. Every single one.

Except . . .

I hardly knew the new guy. Jeff Dannon. And hadn't he been arrested for theft?

Great.

"Had Jeff been around Minnie at all?"

"Wheeled her downstairs after she came in and found us."

His voice dropped off at the end of that sentence, his tone saying much more than his words.

"Did Pippi call the police?"

"No. Said she wanted to speak with you."

I wondered why. If a big expensive ring went missing, I'd want the police involved. But maybe she didn't want the PR, unlike some other people around here.

"Kit?"

"Yo."

"Are you okay?"

There was a long pause. "Dandy."

I sighed. "You know, I'm here if you need anything. Just gotta ask."

"Yeah."

I hoped he took me up on the offer, but doubted he would. He was the proud sort.