Trouble In Bloom (27 page)

I shook my head. "You should have seen her face when she saw Thad dangling above her. She didn't know. About that, at least. About the other stuff? I'm not sure."

Ana drew in a deep breath. "Wait. I thought you didn't see Thad, that you were in the soundproof room?"

"Now's not the time to get into that . . . You okay?"

She must not have been, because she didn't press about Thad's body. Instead, she said, "Yeah. Let's go."

"To the party?" Was she crazy?

"To the police station."

A week later I sat on my couch, watching the breaking news coverage of Carson's arrest on MSNBC .

He'd finally gone national.

It was late, well past nine. BeBe's head rested on my lap. Kit was out (I didn't know where), and Riley was down at Mrs. Greeble's, changing a lightbulb. She was paying him altogether too much—he was flashing cash left and right, and he'd promised not to accept anything from her tonight.

BeBe's ears perked as my phone rang. Reaching over her massive body, I plucked the phone from the coffee table, looked at the caller ID, and answered by saying, "Are you watching it?"

"I hate that he looks so good," Ana said.

"I know."

"Men suck."

"Not all."

"Like who?"

"Bobby."

"He's different."

"How?"

"I don't know, he just is."

"Kit," I pointed out.

"He's different too."

I sighed. "Fine. All men suck."

"Thank you."

"You okay?" I muted the TV.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go take a hot bath."

"No date tonight?"

"Nah. I've sworn off men. I think I'm going to try some self-discovery stuff."

"Lord help us all."

She laughed. "Overall, it seems to have worked for you."

It had. "You know I love you just the way you are."

"I know. I'll call tomorrow. Have fun tonight!" she said before hanging up.

Tonight. My Big Night with Bobby.

My phone rang again. I smiled at the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Do you see the tie Carson Keyes is wearing? Hideous."

"Perry, not everyone has the taste you do."

"Very very true. He does look good, though. Pity he's a murderer." I heard someone in the background. "What? Can't you see I'm on the phone . . . Fine. Nina?"

"I'm here."

"Mario says hello."

I laughed. "Hi back."

"What?" he hollered. "Yes! She says hi back."

"Perry, I've been thinking."

"Scary."

"I know. You and Mario have done so much for me, making me over and all, let me do a garden makeover for you both next spring, my treat of course."

"Thank the Lord! We never thought you'd volunteer! Mario! Mario! She offered!" I heard whooping in the background, and I laughed.

"You two are crazy."

"We know. You still coming for dinner tomorrow night?"

"I'll be there."

"I'll set an extra place just in case."

"Thanks."

"Good luck, sugar."

I hung up. BeBe looked at me. "It's almost time," I said to her.

She licked my chin.

"Thanks, I needed that."

I turned up the volume on the news, trying to drown out my nerves.

The anchor recapped the case against Carson, including some newly disclosed DNA evidence from the noose that pretty much sealed it. The reporter said sources inside Cincinnati's police department believed Carson had lured Thad up on the catwalk under the pretense of taping a teaser for his segment that night.

Jessica was still being investigated as an accomplice, but had thus far been cleared of any wrongdoing. She'd just signed a big contract to stay on with
Hitched or Ditched
. Fox had picked up the show for the fall season and was going to have an
American Idol
type show this winter to find a new host.

Ana and I had been right on the money regarding Carson's motive. The murders had been about cementing his career and getting his name in the limelight.

Apparently, the motivation had nothing to do with winning Jessica back. Rather, he'd been trying to show her up. Show her what she'd lost. An in-your-face kind of thing.

Looked like that plan backfired.

The doorbell rang and BeBe leapt to her feet, woofing so loud the whole neighborhood probably heard.

Peeking out, I saw the pizza delivery man fairly shaking on the porch. Cracking the door, I heard him say, "Please tell me that's one of those recorded barks?"

A big black paw reached out through the crack.

He jumped back, nearly dropping the pizza.

"Here," I said, handing him twenty bucks. "Do me a fa- vor—deliver the pizza across the street. The house with the U-haul and Harley in the driveway."

"I'm thinking you're doing me the favor!" He took off down the stairs.

Stronger, thanks to my new soccer league, I pushed BeBe backward and closed the door. She rose up, putting her paws on my shoulders.

"Down," I said.

She slurped my face.

"Hungry?"

She plopped down, raced to the kitchen. I filled her bowl with kibble. It flew across the floor as she gobbled it up.

"I'm going now," I said to her.

She wasn't listening.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down my zippered sweatshirt and felt the embroidery of the camisole beneath it.

I was definitely weak where Bobby was concerned, but I didn't care.

I smiled and took the plate of cookies I'd made down from the top of the refrigerator—out of BeBe's reach. I left a note for Riley and Kit.

Outside, the wind whipped down the street. Fallen leaves rustled along the ground.

Lights blazed in Bobby's house. He hadn't yet hung blinds or curtains, so I could easily see inside. I made a mental note to have him do it after we ate. I knew Mr. Cabrera had a telescope.

There was a spring in my step despite the chill in the air. I was halfway across the street when I saw Bobby step out of the kitchen. He wasn't alone.

I stumbled to a stop.

Louisa leaned in and gave him a hug. A long one.

It was probably a good ten seconds that I stood there staring at them before I made a decision.

It's true that I may be weak where Bobby is concerned, but I'm not stupid.

I turned around. By the time I reached my front door, I figured I was being irrational. There could be any number of reasons Louisa was with Bobby. Hugging him.

No reasons I liked, but there could be.

I just needed some time to think before I headed back over there. Sans cookies. Sans cami.

I pushed open the front door. BeBe galloped toward me. I heard the phone ringing above the sound of my pounding heart.

BeBe and I two-stepped to the coffee table. I grabbed the phone, dislodged the dog, and pushed the Talk button before I had a chance to look at the caller ID or catch my breath.

"Hello?"

"Nina?"

It was a woman's voice, one I didn't recognize. "Yes?"

"This is Ginger Barlow." She paused, then said, "Kevin's been shot."

A big thanks to Sarah Durand, my fabulous editor, for pushing me to push myself. Thanks, too, to the whole Avon staff for all the hard work they do behind the scenes.

Thanks and hugs to Jacky Sach, agent extraordinaire.

Huge thanks to my critique group, Shelley Galloway, Cathy Liggett, Julie Stone, and author-in-waiting Hilda Lindner Knepp, for everything. Thank you to Laura Bradford for her continuous cheerleading, keen eyes, and honesty. And a very special thanks to Sharon Short for being a great roomie, brainstorming genius, and road-trippin' buddy. You guys are the best.

Nina Quinn Mysteries by

Heather Webber

Trouble in Bloom

Digging Up Trouble

Trouble in Spades

A Hoe Lot of Trouble

TROUBLE IN BLOOM
. Copyright © 2007 by Heather
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