No Gun Intended (7 page)

Chapter Thirteen

It's an odd situation, when you don't know if it's dire or innocent. I was trying not to be alarmed, but missing parents with a dog in the closet…that's just plain alarming. Still, I was hesitant to call the police. We'd been seeing too much of them lately, and I kept thinking about my parents' behavior the previous morning. Maybe they had some big secret. Maybe they left in a hurry and forgot to shut the door. Maybe Dusty liked being put in the closet.

I looked in there, to see if there were any doggie toys or treats or a doggie bed or food. I found a tennis ball, with remnants of doggie slime. Nothing else.

I picked up the stone that Luis had left on the futon when he traded it for his gun. It wasn't even pretty. An interesting shape, but rocks? My astrophysicist brilliant father?

Luis had gone outside to look around, saying he might approach some neighbors, see if they had seen Mom and Dad. I didn't know any of the neighbors. Did Mom and Dad know them?

I sat down on the floor with Dusty and studied Scranton's card, now in a ziplock bag. It was a little bit damaged, like it had been held too tightly in someone's hand. It told me nothing, except his address and phone number.

I jumped up and pulled out my phone. I would call this creepoid wine-spilling stalker and demand that he tell me what the hell was going on or it would be a long day in hell the next time he saw me, I tell you what. My hands were shaking as I started to hit the numbers.

Then I stopped, because I looked out the window and saw Mom and Dad, laughing, while they followed Luis up to the house from across the street.

I dropped the phone and flung the front door open. “What the hell! What happened?! Where were you? I thought you were kidnapped, or dead, or running for your lives, or…”

Mom pulled up short, but Dad sprinted up the stairs and took me in his arms. “Muffinhead, we're so sorry. We were gone just a few minutes. Stopped to see our neighbors. We must have left the door open by mistake.”

“Dusty was in the CLOSET!”

Dad nodded. “Let me show you something.” He led me to the closet and called Dusty over. “Open, girl. Open.”

Dusty finagled her paw along the bottom of the door and it popped open. Then she waddled inside and did the same thing, shutting it behind her.

Dad beamed. “Good girl!” he praised her through the closed door. Then, to me, “I taught her that trick! The only problem is, she can't seem to open the door from the inside, for some reason. I've never known her to do this unless she's performing it as a trick. I'll have to put some sort of latch on here….” His voice faded out when he opened the door, and Dusty emerged, wiggling and wagging all around us.

Mom and Luis had come in, but Mom wasn't beaming. “Jeff.” She got Dad's attention.

“What is it, Syl?”

She put her arm around me. “The business card? Luis told me.”

I handed it over to Dad. “He was here. The dirtbag was here. Must have walked right in because you guys are too happy-go-lucky these days to close and lock your front door.”

Dad took a look at it and gave it to Mom, who only glanced at it before she handed it to me. “Darling, we're sorry we scared you. But I don't understand this. We were gone maybe twenty minutes, tops. Why would he come here, come inside, drop off a card, and leave?” Mom turned to Luis.

“Folks, I see this as two possibilities. One is good. One is bad.”

“How can this be good, Luis?” I asked. “I mean, how does he even know where Mom and Dad live? He saw us in the Pearl the other day, and now he's followed us to the house? It's way too creepy.” I shuddered.

Mom suddenly looked ill, scrunching up her mouth and closing her eyes. “I told him.”

“WHAT?”

“When he and I chatted at the airport, I told him where we lived.”

“THE ADDRESS??”

Her eyes were still closed. “Well, not exactly, but the name of the street, and that we were behind the Sunshine Bakery, and, oh shit.”

“WHAT?”

“Annabelle, please stop yelling at me.” She took a breath. “I mentioned that Jeff had planted a beautiful garden in the front with a Japanese maple tree.”

I sat down. “You told a complete stranger this in the baggage claim area of an airport? Did you hand over your social security number, too, along with your mother's maiden name?”

“
Amiga,
please, your mother did nothing wrong. She is friendly, that is all. People talk about their houses and their gardens.”

Dad agreed. “Absolutely right, Syl, none of this is your fault.”

I rubbed my face. “Luis, what is the good thing that this could mean? His being here?”

“He could be innocently looking for you both for reasons we do not know.”

“Good thought,” said Dad. “Entirely possible.”

“Right,” I said. “Or he's tracking us down about the gun and the backpack. Maybe he hurt Claudia. Maybe he killed Hank Howard or Howard Hanks or whatever his name is.”

Luis sat down next to me. “If he meant great harm, Annabelle, would he have left a calling card?”

I leaned against him. “Probably not, unless he left it as a threat.”

Luis hugged me and kissed the side of my head. “If that is what he is doing, he is a very foolish man. He has more to worry about than any of us.”

“I was going to call him. Do you think I should?”

Luis shrugged. “I say we ignore him.”

“I like you, Luis!” exclaimed my mother, who was heading toward the kitchen. “You are welcome here any time, any day, all the time!” I heard her open the refrigerator. “Jeff, dear, will you open this? We should celebrate!”

I turned around to see my mother holding out a bottle of champagne. Four flutes were already positioned on a tray on the counter.

Dad smiled and did a little dancey walk over to her. They kissed, and he started unwrapping the foil at the top of the bottle.

I stood up and threw my hands in the air. “What the fuck are we celebrating? You people are crazy! We have big problems here, and you want to drink champagne?” I envisioned spending the rest of my time in Portland talking to elder-care facilities.

Luis, frowning, stood up, too.

Dad popped open the bubbly and motioned us to come to the kitchen, while he poured. “We have big news, Bea. Just found out this afternoon that it's all set, so we can tell you about it now.”

He handed each of us a glass, then took one for himself and raised it. We followed suit, though for me and Luis, the motion was halfhearted at best.

“Your mother and I, Bea, are about to embark on a great adventure. We've invested in a new business, with Sal and Drew, across the street.” He paused to kiss Mom. “We are the proud owners of the Sunshine Bakery!”

I was too stunned to drink. My mouth was agape. Luis and my parents clinked glasses and sipped. I stayed frozen.

“Honey? Come on now, this is exciting news!” My mother was all aglow.

“Mom.” I put my glass down. “You don't cook, let alone bake. You know nothing about business, and by the way, neither do you, Dad. And who are Sal and Drew? Tell me why this is good news! The world does not need dry muffins, bland cakes, rock-hard cookies, and banana bread that is more like banana gushy!”

Mom laughed like that was the funniest thing she ever heard. Dad gave me an oh-you-are such-a darling-daughter look. “You mother will not bake. Sal and Drew bake. We're simply investors. We like them. You will, too. In fact, they've invited us over for dinner tonight!”

“And, Miss Nervous Nellie, I have decided to walk away from the hospital for good—but I'll sue them to pay out my contract, those fucks—and take on more hours at the clinic. So I'll be plenty busy.”

I picked up my champagne and chugged it. “I am happy for you, I think. I don't know. This has been a very strange afternoon.” I put the empty glass down. “I'm going to take a nap. Then Luis and I have to go to the Uptown Billiards Club, to follow up on a lead. So I don't know if we can make dinner.”

Luis coughed. “Annabelle, I think we can go to that club after dinner. It would not be a good thing to decline the invitation, do you think?”

I regarded the three of them, and just one thing rang through my head, loud and clear:
Mickey, please get your ass out here.

Chapter Fourteen

I was totally out of sorts. I lay down on the bed upstairs and tried to breathe deeply while studying the ceiling, which had absolutely nothing to offer beyond white space. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mickey. No answer. I left him a message. “They're buying a bakery, Mickey. We're drinking champagne and they're buying a friggin' bakery while Loren Scranton was inside their house. Dusty can open closet doors. Where are you?” I hung up.

I rolled onto my side and eventually fell asleep. I dreamed about me and Dusty finding our way through a strange house, looking for I don't know what, while my mother followed us, covered in flour.

Dad woke me up, jostling me gently. “Bea, time to wake up. We're expected at Sal and Drew's.”

I opened my eyes. Dusty was staring right into them, across the top of the bed. “Okay, Dad.” I pushed myself up to sitting and patted Dusty on the head. “Dad, really, a bakery?”

“You'll see, muffin. You'll like our neighbors. Good people. And I promise, neither your mother nor I will do any of the actual baking. I am looking forward to sprucing the place up a bit.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Maybe we should go there in the morning for pastries?”

He shook his head. “No, it's closed as of yesterday until we have a grand opening.” His eyes sparkled.

“Dad, um, have you forgotten that you're an astrophysicist?”

He smiled. “Hell, darling, I'm just Jeff Starkey, when all is said and done.” He winked at me. “Wash your face, put on some shoes, and let's go.” He left.

I did what he told me to do. In fact, it's hard to recall any time in my life when I didn't do what my father asked. He and I have a strong unspoken bond. I never had the urge to rebel against him. He was always calm and reasonable, whereas my doctor mother was excitable and outspoken and, more times than I liked to remember, embarrassing. Dad, no, he was reliable. Dependable.

I changed my clothes to look a little nicer for the new business-partner neighbors. While I was dressing in black slacks and a silky bright blue top, Mom called up to me that they were heading over with Luis and I should just come as soon as I was ready. “It's the gray house with the green trim, right across the street.”

I brushed on mascara, checked my phone for messages from Mickey, sent him a text (R U OK? I am a little worried) and headed downstairs and out the front door. I carefully locked it with the key Dad had given me.

I rang the doorbell and a handsome man—in his forties, I figured—answered. I held out my hand. “You must be Drew. Hi, I'm Annabelle, Sylvia and Jeff's daughter…”

“Annabelle!” He grabbed my hand, led me inside, and hugged me. “It is so good to meet you! But no, I'm Sal. Drew's inside with your folks and Luis. What a charmer he is, right? Can you both move out here so that we can have endless nights of wine, song, and games? I mean it, your parents are the greatest, and now I can tell already that you are, too, and when will we meet Mickey, who I understand is quite the macho man?”

I stared at him. Then I laughed. Then he laughed and let me go. “Right. We're gay. They didn't tell you.”

“No! It's a pleasure, truly! I'm all yours!”

He led me by the hand into the living room, where Drew jumped up and gave me a similar greeting. “What's your poison, sweetheart?”

“Bourbon.”

We all settled in around the coffee table, which presented an astonishing array of cheeses, nuts, fruit, crackers, olives, and sliced bell peppers. The conversation was lively, to say the least. We were talking over each other, finishing each other's sentences, and laughing luxuriously. Even Luis, who is usually so self-contained, seemed looser than I had ever seen him. Drew even talked him into a second beer—a rarity for Luis.

As for me, I was getting slightly bombed. Two bourbons, and I was loopy. By the time we sat down to dinner, I was guzzling Pellegrino, trying to regain my equilibrium. We all marveled at the perfectly cooked pasta with asparagus, in a light lemony cream sauce, and the warm, home-baked bread, and the crisp arugula salad. I found myself relaxing, really relaxing, for the first time since I arrived in Portland.

Sal and Drew, both great cooks, told me about the bakery, and how the previous owners simply were ready to retire, and they jumped at the chance to buy it. Drew was a high-school English teacher and didn't make a lot of money. Sal was an actor, who had made some bucks in voice-overs and advertising, but was mostly in love with indy films. They told me they were smart with their money (they sure knew how to find beautiful furniture and fixings in thrift stores), but needed other partners for the bakery business. Enter Sylvia and Jeff, as giddy with the new enterprise as Sal and Drew were for each other.

I liked them so much that I dropped my reservations about my parents becoming local merchants. But after they served their homemade éclairs for dessert (holy moly!), I begged their forgiveness for cutting out early. I was woozy with booze and sugar and I wanted to call Mickey.

They insisted that Mom and Dad and Luis stay for a while to play poker; apparently it had become a bit of a ritual of late (when did my parents ever play poker?). I had never imagined Luis as a poker player, but he did come from Las Vegas, so, whatever.

I kissed everyone good-bye, reminded Luis that we had to head over to the billiards club later, and closed the front door behind me. I gently descended their stairs to the street and looked over at my parents' house.

And froze.

Someone was sitting on the front porch.

A man, I could tell, by the overcoat and the fedora-style hat.

I ducked behind a tree and peered around it.

The man was fiddling with something, maybe his phone. I hadn't turned the porch lights on, so it was hard to see.

I adjusted my position. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and was about to light one, when I darted out from the tree and ran across the street.

“You don't smoke!” I yelled.

Mickey stood up and caught me as I flew into his arms.

“Only when I fly three thousand miles, worried sick about you, and don't find you home.”

We kissed and kissed again. “You used to smoke?” I murmured.

“Mmm hmm.”

“You're not starting up again?” I kissed him.

“No. Just a moment of weakness. I'll throw them away.”

“You found the boy?”

“Yes. Alive and well. I'll tell you all about it. You were across the street?”

“Mmm. Sal and Drew. Mom and Dad's new business partners. You'll love them. But you're not going to meet them right now.”

He studied my face, a slight smile on his lips. “No? Why, do you have something else in mind?”

I brushed his black hair from his forehead and locked onto his dark brown eyes. “They're going to be playing poker over there for at least an hour, I figure.”

He smiled, picked me up, took the front door key from my hand, and carried me over the threshold as effortlessly as Richard Gere spirited Debra Winger out of the factory in
An Officer and a Gentleman
, with all of her coworkers clapping and cheering. We didn't have an audience, but then, we didn't want one.

***

It was blissful to be lying naked in bed with Mickey, snuggled up against him, listening to him tell me about the missing kid. “It was my last lead. A duplex in Queens. I sat in the Mustang for three hours, waiting for someone to come in or out. Then, bingo, I see an older kid, tall and skinny, come up the sidewalk with a messenger bag over his shoulder.”

“You knew who it was?”

“I wasn't sure, but he looked like the older brother. So I came up behind him as he was entering the building and grabbed him. I forced him inside, and there was Matthew, sitting on the floor in the living room watching a Transformers movie, eating tortilla chips.”

“His brother took him?”

“Yeah. What a jerk. Roscoe. A twenty-year-old asshole. He told Matthew that their parents were going away for a while and that Matthew was to stay with him.”

“Why?”

“Roscoe has daddy issues. Wanted to freak out his parents.”

“Why didn't Matthew call his parents? He must have had access to a phone. Didn't he see his picture on the news?”

“He was having a pretty good time. No school, watching movies, hanging out with his cool older brother, who kept him away from any news. Matthew didn't know he was a missing person. Anyway, I cuffed Roscoe and called the parents and the police.”

“What about the police? Why couldn't they find him?”

“I was lucky. Roscoe moved around a lot. He has money. He's good at hiding his trail.”

I snuggled closer. “I don't think you were lucky. I think you were a brilliant Asta Investigations private eye.”

“Hmm. As it turned out, I solved two cases at once. Roscoe was dealing drugs. He was shipping them in puppets.”

I propped myself up on my arms and looked at him. “Puppets?”

Mickey laughed. “Stuffed animal puppets. I found a couple of them in his messenger bag.”

I shrieked. “With cocaine hidden inside?”

He pulled me back down on the bed next to him. “Yes. I got a call tonight. Apparently Roscoe used all sorts of warm and fuzzy animals. Teddy bears, and polar bears, and lions and tigers and penguins and kitty cats and…”

“Bonkers! How's
my
kitty?”

Mickey kissed me. “Fine. Vicki in the downstairs flat is watching over him. They get along famously. He yowls out by the fire escape window and she calls up to him, “Bonks! I love you!”

I giggled. “He's such a flirt.” I glanced at the clock. “We have to get up and go to the billiards club. Luis will probably be home any minute.” I rolled away from Mickey and jumped out of bed. “Ready to rock and roll?”

“What, again?” he answered, with a smirk.