Janet Evanovich - Full Scoop

Maggie glanced in the rearview mirror. Queenie and a very large man sat in Queenie's vintage cherry-red 1969 Chevrolet Impala. Maggie put her car into park and got out.

"I can tell by the look on your face that you've heard the news," Queenie said.

Maggie nodded. Again, she checked the. time. "I have to pick up Mel. I'm late."

"I'll take you. You shouldn't be driving right now. You're a danger to yourself and others. You're an accident waiting to happen. You're—"

"I think I get the picture," Maggie said. She cut the engine in her car and locked the door before turning back for Queenie's car. The man inside seemed to be struggling to open the door. Finally, he pushed hard and climbed out. "Sorry," he said. "These doors get stuck once in a while." He leaned close. "You don't look that dangerous to me," he whispered.

Maggie nodded. He wore a black T-shirt that read MAD DOG.

"I'm Everest," he said, offering his hand, which was the size of a small ham.

Maggie hesitated before taking it, praying he wouldn't crush every bone in her hand, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. "Wow, you're big," she said, getting into the Impala.

"Six foot seven, two hundred seventy-five pounds," he said proudly.

"This is my neighbor's grandson," Queenie said, backing from the drive and heading for Mel's school. "His mother named him Everest 'cause he weighed fifteen pounds when he was born, and she said it felt like she was giving birth to Mount Everest. I figured he might come in handy right now, know what I mean?"

"Then you've heard that the police think Carl Lee is on his way here," Maggie said.

"Everest will protect you and Mel. Carl Lee doesn't stand a chance."

Maggie knew Queenie was trying to make her feel better, but even as big as Everest was, he was no match for Carl Lee and his friends who were, no doubt, heavily armed. "Thank you for coming, Everest," she said, at the same time wondering why he would put himself in harm's way for a complete stranger. "I'm sure you have better things to do."

"The only thing I have to do is be at church on Sunday morning," he said. "I'm the choir director. I don't make much money. That's why I have to moonlight as a thug. I get twenty-five dollars per job. 'Course, I don't charge Granny Queenie."

Queenie smiled and glanced back at Maggie.

"Isn't that sweet? He calls me Granny Queenie. Everest has a wonderful voice. He sounds like Aaron Neville. I get chill bumps when he sings 'Amazing Grace.' Everest, sing it for Maggie."

The big black man broke out in song. Maggie had to admit he was very good, but his talent was difficult to appreciate at the moment.

"Did you get chill bumps?" Queenie asked once he'd finished and Maggie clapped.

"I sure did."

"I told him he should go to that Elvis convention. He would put the others to shame."

"Elvis was a white man, Granny Queenie."

"Nobody is going to care about that," the woman said. "Besides, Elvis sang like a black man."

"I'd rather sing for the Lord," Everest said, then looked at Maggie. "I don't want to give you the wrong impression. I've never actually had to beat up anyone. Mostly, I just have a little talk with them, and they straighten up right away. Some have even joined my church."

"That's great," Maggie said, wishing she could sound more enthusiastic. Finally, she turned to Queenie. "What am I going to tell Mel?" She knew she could trust Queenie to help her decide the best way to approach her daughter. Queenie had been at the Charleston hospital with Maggie's parents the day Mel was born, and Queenie, whose twin sons had already finished college and moved out of state, had moved in with Maggie to care for the baby when Maggie started college. Queenie loved Mel as much as any mother could.

"I've been turning it over in my mind since I heard about Carl Lee's escape," the woman said. "I don't think you should just blurt out everything at once."

Maggie closed her eyes briefly. "She is going to hate me for the rest of my life."

Everest gave Maggie a sympathetic look. "If it's bad news it's best to give it in small doses."

"Everest is so sensitive," Queenie said, as she joined the last of the cars waiting in front of Mel's school. The girl sat alone on a bench. Queenie blew her horn several times and called out to her.

Mel gaped; she sank down on the bench and slapped one hand over her eyes.

"Oh, look, our little girl is so happy to see us," Queenie said.

Finally, Mel pulled her hand away and glanced about nervously. Maggie wasn't sure if her daughter was trying to make certain nobody noticed the car waiting to pick her up or if she was looking for an escape route. Finally, she grabbed her book bag and slunk toward Queenie's car.

"Um. What's going on?" she asked, the minute she spied Everest in the back. She ducked to get a better look at Maggie.

"Hop in," Queenie said, struggling to get her door open. She leaned forward; pulling the seat back with her so Mel could squeeze in. "And don't be scared of Everest," Queenie added. "He's not as dangerous as he looks."

Everest smiled and nodded at Mel. "I'm not dangerous at all," he said.

Mel nodded but kept her distance. She looked at her mother. "Where's your car?"

"At the office. Queenie wanted me to meet her friend Everest so we all rode together."

"We wanted to surprise you," Queenie said.

"You owe me, Mom," the girl said. "I get to color my hair now."

Maggie sighed. She and Mel had discussed the hair thing many times. "Your hair is beautiful," she said for the umpteenth time.

"It's orange! I hate it, and since I'm the one who has to wear it I think I should be able to have it the color I want. I'm tired of being teased."

"Who's teasing you?" Everest asked. "Give me a name."

"Stay focused, Everest," Queenie said. "You don't have time to go around scaring schoolkids."

"I want to go blond," Mel said after a moment.

Queenie glanced at Maggie. "I should probably stay out of this. I should probably keep my mouth shut."

Maggie arched one brow. "You think?" Still, Maggie felt bad for her daughter. She remembered how cliquish kids had been when she was growing up, especially the girls. That she had excelled in math, science, and chemistry, subjects usually preferred by boys in those days, had made her an oddity. She had wanted so badly to fit in, to be invited places after school and on weekends by the other kids. And then she'd met Carl Lee Stanton, town hunk and troublemaker, and everything had changed.

"Are you even listening to me?" Mel said.

Maggie turned and looked at her. "I always listen to you, honey, but I'm not backing down on this one." Maggie wondered how much authority she would have left once Mel caught sight of her father's picture on TV, complete with his jailhouse tattoos.

"Blond is definitely not the color for you," Everest said. "You should look into a rinse. It will tone down your color without harsh chemicals."

Maggie and Mel just looked at him.

"My sister is a hairdresser," Everest said. "All she talks about is hair, hair, hair. So I know what I'm talking about. Hair and makeup should be subtle, less is always more. At least, that's what my sister says."

"Yeah?" Mel sounded interested.

"Hey, I have a great idea," Queenie said. "We should stop by the Full Scoop ice-cream parlor."

"That'll work," Mel said.

Maggie noted her daughter's eager expression. She had a secret crush on Abby Bradley's fifteen-year-old son Travis.

"My friends have been carrying on about this new flavor of chocolate ice cream," Queenie said.

"They say it's better than sex, and at my age that's as close as I'm going to get to the real thing."

"Don't listen to her, Mel," Maggie said teasingly, having learned long ago that Queenie did not censor her words.