Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

“It’s been routine. I was offered a ride while I was walking Bob, but I declined. Black Cadillac sedan. Two morons inside. Said someone wanted to talk to me. Wouldn’t give me a name.”

“Did you get a picture of their plate?”

“No. I was a little flustered.”

“Do you need a big strong guy to come over to protect you?”

“Thanks, but I’ve already got two of those hanging out in the parking lot.”

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and disconnected. I turned to go back inside and saw a black Cadillac sedan idling across the street. I gave it a little finger wave, and it drove away.

—

At nine o’clock an argument broke out over the Dittman’s grand prize. Suzanne Blik was declared the winner, and Karen Barkley instantly accused her of cheating. The accusation had some merit because we all knew Suzanne cheated all the time. We also knew that almost everyone cheated all the time at bingo.

“I won this fair and square,” Suzanne said.

“You never won anything fair and square,” Karen said. “That Dittman’s basket belongs to the runner-up. And that would be me.”

They both had a grip on the big wicker basket. Karen wrenched it away from Suzanne, and the basket went airborne. Cans of gravy and green beans, a loaf of rye bread, and the massive rump roast flew out of the basket. The empty basket hit Tootie square in the face, and Tootie sat down hard on the floor. Blood gushed out of her nose.

Marvina panicked and hit the big red FIRE EMERGENCY button on the wall. Overhead sprinklers went off and gushed water, and everyone ran screaming for the door. A bunch of firefighters rushed in and carted Tootie out of the room.

Grandma and I exited the building, and Grandma immediately took off for the parking lot.

“Hurry up,” she said to me. “Where’s the car? I gotta get in the car.”

The parking lot wasn’t well lit, but it’s easy to spot a powder blue and white ’53 Buick Roadmaster. I slid behind the wheel, and Grandma climbed in next to me. I looked over and realized she had the rump roast.

“Omigod,” I said. “I can’t believe you took the rump roast.”

“Someone had to take it,” Grandma said. “It wouldn’t be right to waste a good rump roast.”

—

Ranger was waiting for me when I slogged into my apartment. He was dressed in the standard Rangeman uniform of full utility gun belt, black cargo pants, and long-sleeved shirt with the Rangeman emblem on the sleeve. He owned the company, but he still did the occasional shift when they were short on manpower.

I was soaked to the skin, and I had two layers of mascara streaking my face. Water dripped off the hem of my jeans.

“Babe,” Ranger said, “your lips are blue. We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

“I think my lips might be blue from my mascara.”

The hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Ranger’s mouth. “Maybe, but I’d still like to get you out of your clothes.”

I got rid of my shoes and peeled my socks off. “What are you doing here?”

“Mental health check. I was ending a patrol shift and heard you were heading home after a bingo disaster.”

“Marvina panicked when Tootie got hit in the face with the Dittman’s basket. She punched the button on the fire alarm and set the overhead sprinklers off. I imagine she thought she was hitting an emergency help button.”

Ranger was lounging against my kitchen counter. Arms crossed over his chest. Watching me strip down to my sports bra and stretchy bikinis.

“It’s been a while,” Ranger said. “I’ve missed you.”

Ranger and I have had our moments in the past. It’s not like this was the first time he’s seen me in my undies. Or for that matter without them. And it’s not as if my sports bra and bikinis were all that revealing. Not any more revealing than my swimsuit. Maybe less. It was that Ranger emits a sexual pull that is hard to ignore. He enters my field of vision and I get a rush. If I’m at arm’s length and close enough to get a hint of his shower gel or feel his body heat, I’m in serious danger of turning into a slut. I want him. Bad. And that’s not good since Ranger is an opportunist, and I have an awesome boyfriend who doesn’t look kindly on sharing me. Yet another indication that my life isn’t on track.

“As you can see, I’m perfectly okay,” I said to Ranger. “I just need to wash the bingo hall water out of my hair, and I’ll be good as new.”

“We need to talk,” Ranger said. “We can talk while you shower.”

Oh boy. Ranger watching me in the shower. Just the thought gave me heart arrhythmia and a massive dose of Catholic guilt. I’d pretty much lost my blind faith, but the guilt was still strong.

“That doesn’t work for me,” I said. “We can talk after I shower.”

Ranger checked his watch. “As long as you don’t take the hour shower. I have paperwork stacked up at Rangeman. I’ve been out all day.”

Yay for me. The no-cheating stars must be in alignment. I took a fast shower, toweled off, and ran a comb through my hair. I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. Ranger was sitting on the bed, checking his mail on his phone. He looked up and smiled at me.

“Babe,” Ranger said.

This time it was easy to guess what Babe implied. His voice was soft. His gaze traveled the length of me and settled on the towel.

“No,” I said. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Hard not to think about it when you’re in front of me in a towel.”

“I just took a shower! What did you expect?”

“I was hoping for naked.”

“And I was hoping you’d wait in my living room.”

“I tried that,” Ranger said. “Your couch is covered in dog hair.”

I ratcheted up my grip on the towel. “Bob is a shedder.”

“Babe,” Ranger said, “your knuckles are turning white, and I’m running out of time. Here’s the short version. The two errand boys who tried to get you into the Cadillac work for Benny the Skootch. He’s got his name on a La-Z-Boy at the Mole Hole, and I’m guessing he wants to talk to you about Grandma and the missing keys. You know about the keys, right?”

“Only that they’re missing.”

“I don’t know much more than that, but I know if the keys don’t turn up soon, things are going to get messy. These Mole Hole guys are old-school. They do things the old-fashioned way.”

“Broken bones and blood everywhere?”

“Yes. I don’t want it to be your blood, so try not to lose your Rangeman escort. And talk to Grandma about the keys. Make sure she doesn’t have them.”

His cellphone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. “I have to go.” He pulled a packet out of a pocket on his cargo pants and tossed it onto my bed. “Be careful.”

“What’s in the package?”

“Ammo. Get your gun out of the cookie jar.”

I watched him leave the room, and I heard the front door click closed. I was sort of disappointed that he hadn’t ripped the towel off me. There are times when Ranger doesn’t pay total attention to no . It might not have been so bad if this was one of those times, being that I was in a state.

I opened the towel and looked down at myself. I didn’t have big boobs like Lula, but mine were sort of perky. I had a flat stomach and a nice, neat landing strip below that. Legs were okay. I needed a pedicure. Not bad since lately I’d put in minimal effort. Good thing I wasn’t actually fifty-six. I imagined I’d be a wreck by then.

CHAPTER FIVE

I STUMBLED INTO THE OFFICE a little after nine and went straight to the coffee machine.

“You look terrible,” Lula said. “You got big bags under your eyes. I hope you’re not coming down with something. It’s Friday and I can’t afford to catch the flu for the weekend. I got a killer date coming up.”