Weeding Out Trouble (17 page)

Authors: Heather Webber

Tags: #Contemporary Women, #Mystery & Detective, #Quinn; Nina (Fictitious character), #General, #Women Sleuths, #Fiction

BOOK: Weeding Out Trouble

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I sat back down. There was only so much I could take in one day.

"Stepmom," Riley mumbled.

"Oh," the nurse said. "That makes sense. I was thinking you were too young to have a son Riley's age."

I wanted to lean over and kiss her. I might have to make her my new best friend. I was sure Ana wouldn't mind.

"You just made my day. And trust me, it needed to be made. You ready?" I asked Riley.

"What's with the dress?" he asked. "Is that Grandma Cel's? No, can't be. She has better taste."

The nurse snickered.

Suddenly, she was off my list for new best friend.

I stood again. "You're awfully chatty for someone so sick."

"You need to burn that thing, Nina," he said, wobbling to his feet.

"So I've heard." I took hold of his arm. Amazingly, he didn't pull away.

"You better take this." The nurse handed over the bedpan. "Just in case."

"You're not going to get sick in my truck, are you?" I asked, feeling the color drain from my face.

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether you start driving like Maria or Ana." Maria, my sister, was a notoriously bad driver. And Ana was worse.

"I'll do my best." I tried not to notice how his hot skin scorched my fingers. "Do you have a coat?"

"No."

"A hat?"

"No."

"Gloves?" I ventured.

"No."

"No wonder you're sick."

"I'm a man," he said in a boastful voice. "I don't need no coat."

"No, just tutoring from Brickhouse."

"If I wasn't so sick, I'd give you attitude."

"Wait. Let me count my blessings." I helped him into the truck, thrust the pan at him.

There was no sign of Lewy and Joe. Wonder where they'd snuck off to?

"So, really, why the dress?" Ry asked once I set the truck into gear.

"Daisy's viewing."

When he didn't say anything else, I glanced over at him.

His lips were rough around the edges and had turned a dark red, something that happened every time he had a fever.

Poor kid. "You okay?"

"Do I look it?" he snapped.

"Whoa, what happened to no attitude?"

"I lied."

His mood swing shouldn't have taken me by surprise, but it did.

The silence stretched. It wasn't uncomfortable, yet I felt as though there was a bit of tension in the air. I couldn't figure out where it stemmed from until Riley said, "All Kit was doing was trying to help her, and this is the thanks he gets."

Ah.

Riley and Kit had become best buds since Kit moved in with us. Riley looked up to him, and I was glad for the role model. Kit was hardworking, loyal, and an all-around good man. His appearance fooled many people, but those who took the time, treasured the man beneath the scary surface.

Riley had taken the time.

"He'll be okay," I said.

"How do you know?"

"Faith. Faith that good triumphs over evil."

He rolled his eyes. "That makes me want to throw up again."

"Just not in my truck, okay? And it's true, whether it's hokey or not."

"It's hokey."

I took a deep breath. Dealing with a teenager took special skills. One of them was deep cleansing breaths. It was the only way to get through a conversation.

I was on breath number six when what Riley had said sunk in. "Do you know what Kit was doing to help Daisy?"

Kit and Riley spent a lot of time together, and Riley was sneaky. He could have seen or heard specifics.

Riley shrugged. He had it down to an art form.

"If you know anything, Riley, you should tell me. Kit needs all the help he can get right now."

"I don't know much."

Not wanting to push, I kept quiet.

A minute went by. I could tell he was wrestling with being loyal to Kit and trying to help him at the same time. Finally he said, "Kit told me that sometimes it's important to help people even when they don't want the help."

"That's true."

"I overheard one of their conversations once. About how Daisy was in danger. She kept saying that if he helped her, he'd be in danger too."

Sounded similar to the conversation I'd overheard between the two.

"Daisy wanted to do it on her own."

"Do what?"

"I don't know. It had something to do with some guy named Kent, and about someone named Cora?" He said this last part as a question, as if he wasn't quite sure.

"Corazón?" I repeated.

"Yeah, that's it. I remember now because it reminded me of Corona beer."

I shot him a look.

"What? I watch TV."

Great. Now I was going to have to lock up all the liquor in the house.

"Kit knew I'd been listening. Told me not to tell anyone what I'd heard."

"I'm sure he doesn't mind you telling me."

He said nothing.

I wanted to feel him out, see exactly how much he knew. "Listen, do you know what Daisy and Kit were talking about? With the Corazón?"

He shook his head. "All I kept thinking about was beer."

Yep. Definitely locking up the alcohol.

This stepmothering thing wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"Corazón is Spanish for heart," I said. "And it's also a type of Ecstasy."

As he looked at me his lips flamed, his face paled. "I don't understand," he said. "What's Corazón have to do with Kit and Daisy?"

"I don't know." Kent's murderous glare came to mind. "But I intend to find out."

I turned onto my street and slowed as I neared my house. A large group of people had gathered on my driveway.

What now?

I pulled into Bobby's driveway since mine was completely blocked. County vehicles were parked at my curb, and I saw a reporter for the local paper snapping random pictures.

Riley groaned.

Or maybe it was me.

I wasn't sure.

Riley shook off my help crossing the street. He clutched his bedpan for dear life.

I cozied up to Flash, who stood on the outskirts of the crowd along with Miss Maisie. "What's going on?"

"Donatelli went and caught himself one of those turkeys," Flash said, not even looking at me.

Miss Maisie leaned across him. "The county is here to take it away, and that horrid little rooster too."

Riley swayed, and I grabbed hold of him. "You okay?" I asked him.

"Can you help me inside?"

"What's wrong with the boy?" Flash asked.

Stepping toward the house, I said, "He's sick."

Miss Maisie let out a shriek. "He's got it! I know he has. He's got the bird flu! Probably from trying to catch that contaminated rooster!"

The crowd quieted and everyone turned our way. The newspaper guy snapped three pictures.

This time I was positive it was Riley who moaned.

"Chérie!"
My mother rushed over. "What's wrong with Riley?"

"Riley?" Kevin piped in, joining us.

"Kill me now," Riley mumbled.

"He's sick," I said. "The school called."

"Why didn't they call here?" Kevin asked.

"They did. No one answered." I made a show of looking around at the crowd. "Seems you all were busy doing other things."

"Is it really the bird flu?" the reporter asked.

"Idiot," Riley mumbled.

I agreed.

As it was, Miss Maisie was already hobbling across the street as fast as her legs could carry her. No doubt there would be garlic over her door by sundown, just in case.

"Come on," I said, throwing elbows as I'd seen Pippi do. Only my elbows didn't seem to work as well.

Thank goodness Brickhouse stepped in and cleared a path for us to the door. "Ach, I'll make you some nice chicken soup."

"No!" Riley said. "No chicken. No turkey."

"Ach. Split pea."

"You should have taken the chicken," I whispered, push ing him inside. "I'll be a minute."

"What's wrong with him?" Brickhouse asked me as soon as I closed the door behind Riley.

"Flu, maybe."

"Ach! I have yet to get my flu shot."

"I haven't had mine either," my mother said, coming up behind me.

Kevin finally made it to the porch. "Is he all right?"

"Some sort of flu," I said. "It's probably best you not go near him right now. If you catch what he has, it will probably send you back to the hospital."

Wait. Would that be such a bad thing?

Hmmm.

Okay, I wasn't that heartless. It would be bad.

Worry knitted Kevin's brow. "Should I call his pediatrician?"

"Why don't we wait until tomorrow? See how he does tonight. Maybe it's a twenty-four-hour bug. What's the deal here?" I asked, motioning to the crowd.

Kevin sat on the porch railing. "The county is just loading the birds on the truck now. The SPCA promised to come later to catch the other turkey."

As I watched Mr. Cabrera speaking with the reporter and posing for pictures, Lewy and Joe pulled up across the street.

They both got out of their car holding Starbucks cups. No wonder they weren't right behind me on the way home. It had been snack time.

The crowd cleared when the county trucks pulled away. My mother went inside to make Riley some tea, and Brickhouse waddled off to make soup.

"Isn't that the dress you wore to my mother's funeral seven years ago?" Kevin asked.

"So?"

"Just saying."

Hmmph.

"And, you know, I haven't forgotten that you need to explain why you were searching Riley's room."

"I told you, I was cleaning."

"Nina . . . "

Lewy and Joe climbed the steps to the porch and greeted Kevin with nods. "Looks like we missed the circus," Lewy said.

I placed my hand on the doorknob. "You can read about it in the paper."

"Before you go . . . " Lewy started.

"Yeah?"

"The Georgia State Patrol has come up with no leads on Kit. The guys we sent down have hit dead ends too."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

"Here," Joe said, handing me a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"The number for the impound lot." Joe smirked. "It's going to cost you a pretty penny to get your truck back."

"Not as much as the taxpayers will have spent for the wild goose chase you masterminded." Lewy sipped his coffee, eyebrows raised.

He was baiting, but I wasn't biting. "I'm too tired to play these games with you two."

I walked inside. As I closed the door I heard Joe say to Kevin, "It was worth a try."

Yeah, well. He could keep on trying.

Upstairs, I found Riley snuggled into his bed, already asleep.

Xena was snoozing too. Thank goodness.

"Chérie
, here's his tea," my mother said from the doorway.

"You can come in."

"No thank you."

I smiled. My mother and germs had never gotten along.

I took the tray. A small bottle of ibuprofen sat alongside a steaming mug and a bottle of water.

Shaking gently, I woke Riley long enough for him to swallow two pills. I pulled his desk chair over next to the bed and sat, sipping on his tea.

Lost in thought, it took me a good minute to realize my mother was calling me from downstairs.

I went to the door. "Yes?"

"You've another patient, c
hérie
! He needs help up the stairs!"

The scent of Lysol filled the hallway. My mother was already at work degerminating.

At the bottom of the steps, Perry drooped piteously.

"I don't feel well, Nina."

"You don't look good, Perry."

"Can I stay here?"

My mother chimed in. "Kevin is helping Flash bring a cot over from his house for Perry to use."

"Let's get you upstairs," I said to Perry, since my mother had clearly made the decision already.

It took a good fifteen minutes for me to get the cot set up in Riley's room, to hunt down a sleeping bag, and to get Perry settled. I'd given him the same therapy as Riley. Two ibuprofen, a pillow, and a bedpan as a woobie.

"Thank you, Nina," Perry whispered.

I pulled one of Riley's shades down and then crossed to the other window. "What are friends for?"

"Another pillow?" he asked.

I laughed as I reached for the shade pull. "Uh-oh."

"What?" he squawked.

"You're about to feel a lot worse."

"Why?"

"Mario just pulled up."

Sixteen

Mario stormed into the house, ranting and raving about a phone call he'd gotten from a tow truck driver.

By the time he made it upstairs, his mocha skin had turned a mottled raspberry. I worried for his health as I stood in front of Perry, bound and determined to protect him as best I could.

But one look at Perry, and Mario seemed to forget why he was angry.

He crouched down beside the cot and started rambling something softly in Spanish that I couldn't understand but made me wish Bobby spoke the language.

The cooing went on for a good ten minutes before Mario decided he wanted to take Perry home.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I don't mind watching over him. Riley's already sick . . . "

Mario helped Perry sit up. "He should be home in his own bed."

"Oooh, my feather bed," Perry cooed.

Riley rolled over in his sleep, mumbling, "Gobble, gobble."

Mario eyed him, then me. "Hallucinating?"

"Long story," I told him. "Perry can fill you in." I gave them both hugs and told them to call if they needed anything.

"Do you happen to know where my car is?" Mario asked.

Perry moaned, holding his stomach.