Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

“Did she explain any of this to you?”

“No. She won’t talk. She said she had a righteous mission to perform, and she has no regrets.”

“So, you bought her ice cream and called my mother?”

“Yes.”

Gazarra was great. It was a shame he married Shirley. He could have done much better. I gave him the long version of the regifting of potentially poisonous cookies. The more he heard, the larger the smile got until he was full-on cracked up.

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “Barbara gave the cookies to Grandma. Grandma gave the cookies to the sisters. The sisters gave the cookies to Marvina. And Grandma broke in so she could get the cookies out of the house before Marvina came home and maybe ate another one.”

“Yep.”

“I love it,” Gazarra said. “I might have to confiscate that cookie tin. You never know when you want to give someone poison cookies. Good to have on hand.”

“I’m going to bury it,” I said.

“I’ll transfer Grandma over to your custody and write this up as mistaken identity.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

“Really? I could use a babysitter next Saturday.”

“Last time I babysat for your kids they set the kitchen on fire. I’d rather let you keep Grandma, and you could lock her up with the hookers.”

“I don’t want her,” Gazarra said. “I’d be laughed out of the building. I’d be known as ‘Granny Cop,’ and my mother would be mad at me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I TOOK GRANDMA back to my parents’ house. We emptied the cookies into a plastic bag, smashed them with a rolling pin, and put them in the garbage. If a pack of rats ate them at the landfill that was their problem.

“We’ll never know if they were poisoned,” Grandma said.

I nodded. “Another one of life’s mysteries.”

It was early afternoon when I drove away. I reached the cross street and stopped because I had a dilemma. If I went back to the office, Lula would want to go after Carol Joyce. Not only did I see riding up and down lanes in a shopping center parking lot as a waste of time . . . I also didn’t give a fig about capturing Carol Joyce. I honestly didn’t care about any part of the bail bonds business. I know this is a terrible attitude, but there it was.

Although, I had to admit I enjoyed taking down Charlie Shine with Ranger and Tank. It was nice to be part of a professional team. Nice to get the job done without a screwup and a skinned knee. And I was able to get Charlie Shine behind bars, where he wasn’t a threat to Grandma.

I was still wearing the baggy boyfriend jeans because there was nothing else in my closet. I had to do laundry, and I should go shopping. I was short on work clothes. Thanks to Steven Cross I had some money.

Thirty minutes later, I was in Macy’s. Buying jeans is a no-brainer. I always wear the same thing. Nothing fancy. After jeans it’s more of a struggle. I was looking at a red dress with a short swirly skirt when Carol Joyce walked up to me.

“You don’t want that dress,” he said. “It’s all wrong for you, and it’s not well made. Not worth the money.”

I gave up a moment of stunned silence before my brain kicked in.

“Carol Joyce?”

“Yes. And I’m going to save you the trouble of trying this disaster on. Trust me. I’m good at this. It’s one of the reasons I’m so successful. I only steal quality merchandise.”

“You’re serious? You risked getting cuffed to tell me this?”

“I don’t feel it’s much of a risk. I can easily outrun you. And to be honest, the game is getting boring. I’m thinking of turning myself in and getting the whole court thing over and done. It’s my first offense, and there weren’t any high-end items involved. I expect I’ll get a slap on the wrist.”

“Why do you shoplift?” I asked him. “Why don’t you get a real job?”

“This is a real job. I average a yearly salary of mid-six figures.”

“But why shoplifting?”

“I’m good at it. I started doing it in high school as a stunt and discovered I had a real talent for it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to do something else? Move up the ladder?”

“No.”

“You have no dreams? No aspirations?”

“No. I like what I’m doing.”

“It’s illegal.”

“Yes. That’s unfortunate.”

“What about if you get married and have kids? What will you tell them?”

“I don’t know. I suppose that could be a game changer.”

We had a couple beats of silence while we thought about that.

“So, why don’t you like this red dress?” I asked him.

“It’s too short. It’s going to hit your leg in an odd spot and be unflattering. The color isn’t wonderful for your complexion. You would look best in a blue red. This is an orange red. And finally, I don’t like the cut of the neckline. I would like to see you in a scoop neck.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. I looked at it and all I saw was that it was cute. Your mother thinks you’re a personal shopper. Maybe that’s your true calling.”

“I have a couple clients, but I do it more as a personal favor than a profession. It’s just not as satisfying as shoplifting.”

I put the red dress back on the rack. “What dress would you suggest?”

He pulled out a deep blue silk shirtwaist. “It doesn’t have a scoop neck, but it’s very classy and at the same time it’s sexy because of the way the silk drapes and moves. It’s a little expensive but I can put it in my bag for you.”

“No! I wouldn’t want you to do that.” I took the dress from him. “It’s nice, but I’m not sure about the style.”

“Try it,” he said. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

I tried the dress on, and it was perfect. It felt elegant and sexy, and it was comfortable. I put my baggy jeans back on, left the dressing room, and Carol was gone. Vanished. Crap. Truth is, I wasn’t that surprised. And I didn’t much care, although it would have been fun to do more shopping with him. I bought the dress and was pulling out of the shopping center parking lot when my mother called.

“Usually we see you and Joseph for dinner on Fridays,” she said. “Last week was a wash because . . . you know. So, I’m just checking before we set the table.”

“Sure, we’ll be there for dinner,” I said. “I’m almost positive.”

“Six o’clock,” she said. “We’re having pot roast.”

I hung up and called Morelli. “Dinner at six o’clock at my parents’ house?”

“Sounds good. Gazarra told me about Grandma. He made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“He’s the best. I also brought Charlie Shine in. I was hoping for no bail, but the judge chose to set a super high amount instead.”

“I heard. Shine’s lawyer is looking for money. I’m told he’s liquidating some of Shine’s assets so Shine can post his own bond.”

“That would be a real bummer. That would defeat my purpose for apprehending him.”

—

I hauled my laundry basket into my parents’ house just before six o’clock. I was wearing new jeans and a new long-sleeved, scoop neck, silky-feeling sweater that Carol had dropped into my jeans bag without me noticing. The price tag was still on the sweater. $175.00. I was now aiding and abetting a shoplifter. Screw it. I didn’t care. It was a great sweater, and I had bigger fish to fry.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Grandma said when I walked into the kitchen. “Is that a new sweater?”

“Yes. And new jeans.”

“You must be doing good at work.”

I smiled at the irony of that. Just when I decide that I hate my job, I have the best week ever.

My mother was working at the stove, and the kitchen was heavy with the smell of meat and gravy. I looked in the fridge. Pineapple upside-down cake smothered in whipped cream. This meal was a mainstay of my life and almost as good as sex. Okay, who was I kidding? This was as good if not better than sex. And I could enjoy it without reciprocating.