Chapter 31

 

The next morning after I’d hauled myself out of the rack, I hiked downstairs, made coffee, then went out on the back patio and found Evelyn in her shorts and a sun hat, working in her rose garden.

“Morning,” I said, standing barefoot on the warm patio, sipping a cup of hot java.

“More like afternoon, wouldn’t you say?” The sun was high overhead. It was just past noon and hot as hell again. “What were you doing out all night?”

“I wasn’t out all night.” I was sixteen all over again, getting the parental grilling for slipping in past curfew. I shrugged. “I was hanging out with Amy.” That seemed a sufficient explanation for a girl my age.

Evelyn yanked up a handful of weeds and tossed them into her plastic weeding bucket. “I still say that nothing good happens after midnight.”

“You may have something there.”

Evelyn gave me a wary look, then went back to her weeding. “You’d think with all the attention these roses get, they’d look better. Hand me the pruners.” I passed Evelyn her Felcos and sat down at the patio table, under the umbrella. I was content to watch Evelyn snip and spray for aphids and pull weeds while I finished my coffee and organized my thoughts. If I was the Day Planner type, I’d have pulled one out.

Food was first on the list. Then I’d get on the horn to Bud Upton and see if he’d talked with Larry White about our proposed live meeting. Hopefully, Bud had the stats on the scope of Larry White’s local real estate interests. After that, I’d make a friendly call on WFOG, then sneak off and do some daylight snooping around the back field.

I wasn’t going to let one little old threatening phone call get me down.

At some point in the near future I’d try to check in with Nancy Merit and see if she even remembered me. I also needed to touch base with Ted and check on things at the restaurant. I felt badly for leaving him short-handed during the busiest season, but I’d covered for Ted a time or two for personal reasons that even he’d admit weren’t half-way legitimate and he at least had Katrina which was more than I had at the moment.

 

Evelyn took a break, got herself a Diet Coke and joined me at the patio table.

“Nice hat,” I said. She did look kind of sweet and motherly in her gardening get-up.

“Oh, shut up.”

So much for sweet and motherly. Evelyn poured her Diet Coke in a tall glass of ice. “Alonzo and I are going to King’s Island after his shift. He’s got some free passes. Wanna come along?”

I wasn’t sure how I was going to fit a trip to the local amusement park into my busy schedule. In fact, I didn’t even want to try.

“They’ve got that new roller coaster. Alonzo’s dying to try it out. You know, a little fun might do us all some good.”

She had that part right, but a giddy romp through Hanna Barbara Land with my mother and Cousin Alonzo wasn’t going to fix my wagon.

“Thanks for the invite, but I’ve got some things to do.”

Evelyn eyeballed me suspiciously. “I sincerely hope that snooping around where you don’t belong isn’t on your list.”

I just grinned. “I’m starved. Ready for some lunch?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I am. Now, how about a nice BLT?” I’d spotted some whopper garden tomatoes that one of the neighbors had brought Evelyn, and I was looking forward to putting them next to some crispy bacon, lettuce and mayo.

“Fine, but no mayo on mine and don’t toast my bread.”

Evelyn was worse than a real customer. “No mayo, no toast. You got it.”

“Kimberly,” my mother said, catching my arm, “leave things well enough alone, will ya?”

Reassuringly, I patted her on her sunny, freckled shoulder. “Sure, Mom.” It wasn’t a lie, it was sarcasm.

The BLTs were outstanding. Evelyn went back to her gardening, I washed up the dishes and called Bud Upton’s office. Again, his secretary put me right through. Why wasn’t I dating Bud Upton? He was much easier to get a hold of than Nancy Merit.

Bud was chipper and all business. Yes, he’d talked with Larry White. “Larry says he’ll check his schedule and get back to us,” Bud said. “I did reiterate that a face-to-face meeting was an integral part of this deal, don’t think he liked it much, and as for his real estate wish list? There are four pieces of land and isn’t this interesting? The other two properties are smack dab between WFOG and the Deloziers’. One was Ken Soesbe’s place, the other, a little piece of land Scotty Mink owned and everyone has sold to him now but us.

 And Kim,” Bud said, moving papers around, “as your attorney, let me say that maybe we should take one last look at that option before we stir up any more dust?”

I sighed. It was tempting, but so were a lot of other things that would eventually rot one’s soul. “I don’t think so, Bud. No sale until we know more. Evelyn’s with me on this.”

“Well, then that’s how we’ll play it.”

“Thanks, Bud.”

“If this SOB really wants WFOG, looks like he’s going to have to show somebody’s face.”

“Well put.”

“Oh, one last thing. My brother Irvin says he’d love to have dinner. Check back with him in three to five.” It’s always nice to have something to look forward to.

 

Before I hit the road for WFOG, I rang Nancy Merit’s office. I don’t know if it was just my lucky day or if Shirley was taking lessons from Bud Upton’s secretary, but she put me right through to Nancy.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

There was a somewhat frigid pause. “Your concept of a breather is apparently very different than mine.”

“We can work around that, Nancy.”

She gave more of a snort than a laugh, but I could tell I’d put a crack in the ice.

“Go ahead,” I said, “admit it. You miss me, don’t you?”

“All right, I miss you,” she said, rather matter of factly.

“Now was that so difficult?”

“When are you gonna get your butt back here? Dickhead is actually trying to make nice. It’s sickening.”

“That is sickening.” I went on to tell her that I’d be back as soon I found out who was responsible for a couple of dead men with missing winkies, and how, if at all, that fit into Evelyn’s offer on WFOG.

“Don’t they have a police department there?”

“Sort of. It’s a long story.” Unfortunately, it seemed to be getting longer.

“Well, don’t lose your winkie over it.”

“Nancy, I don’t have a winkie, at least I didn’t the last time I checked.”

“You know what I mean, Bonehead. Now goodbye.”

 

I did know what she meant. After the creepy, unsettling phone call I’d gotten the night before, winkie or no winkie, I needed to play heads-up ball to ensure the continuation of my own vital signs and so did Amy.