Heather Webber - Digging Up Trouble

Which got me thinking about my bed.

And Bobby in it.

And that I was meeting him tonight.

So we could talk.

Ack.

Digging Up Trouble

125

I pushed that out of my mind and focused on the Sandruzzis’ yard transformation.

Deanna had done an excellent job. Her design had included tearing out the old concrete walkway and replacing it with a new brick one, painting the concrete landing, and bordering the now curving path with flower beds on each side.

Beautiful bright-leafed coleus and bluish purple fanflowers glowed against fresh mulch. Japanese holly bushes, an evergreen shrub with small shiny leaves, and rhododendrons—the evergreen Lee’s dark purple—added to the visual appeal. To the right of the front door Deanna had added a trellis between two single hung windows, and a clematis had been planted at its base, its spindly fingers already searching for something to grab onto. Under the family room’s large picture window Deanna had added a long window box, filled with blue wave petunias. Just petunias. Against the yellow background, the simplicity was stunning.

The front bushes, old overgrown Japanese yews, had been removed and three burning bushes planted in a neat row.

To the left of the walkway a young crabapple had been planted. The same brick as the walkway had been used to create a circular planting bed around the crabapple, where yellow zinnias and dahlias along with a mixture of pink, red, rose, white, and yellow snapdragons added color and interest. To my eye, the only work left was some mulching around the fire bushes and cleanup.

“Nina! Look out!”

My head snapped up and I saw a big black blur barreling down on me.

BeBe!

I scrambled onto the back bumper of the pickup and hurled myself into its bed.

126

Heather Webber

Two dinner plate-sized paws landed on top of the tailgate, and BeBe’s head appeared, drool dripping from her big lolling tongue.

Marty, panting and out of breath, grabbed BeBe’s leash, but couldn’t get her to budge.

BeBe strained, scratching the tailgate.

Reluctantly, I gave in and stuck out my hand. BeBe started licking it like it was a T-bone flavored doggy popsicle.

Ew!

“Kit!” I yelled.

Kit’s chin snapped up. He’d been working on the mulch.

His fuzzy head swiveled, and I lip-read the swear that came out of his mouth as he took in the situation.

I caught his gaze, shot daggers at him. Sharp ones.

For a second he looked like he wanted to run. He didn’t like angry women. He’d have to get over that.

BeBe continued to slobber as Kit hurried over. Marty had finally caught his breath and said to me, “Sorry, Nina. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have kept a tighter hold on her.

She must have smelled you or something.”

My hand dripped drool. I’d finally had enough and pulled it away, wiping it down my shorts.

There wasn’t enough degerminator in the world.

“What’s she doing here?” I asked Kit, not too nicely.

BeBe tried to jump into the truck bed with me. Kit tugged her leash away from Marty and gave him a dirty look.

“What?” Marty said. “BeBe must have smelled Nina or something. She just took off all of a sudden.”

“I wish you’d stop saying I smell!”

“If the deodorant fits,” Kit said.

“Ha. Ha.” If he didn’t look so little boylike with his fuzzy head and long, drooping eyelashes, he’d be dead meat.

“Don’t try to evade. What’s BeBe doing here?”

“Daisy got a new job. Crazy hours.”

Digging Up Trouble

127

I couldn’t help myself. Discreetly I took a sniff of my armpits and caught a whiff of Secret’s Mountain Glade.

Maybe BeBe had Secret fetish?

I folded my arms across my chest, felt some residual BeBe drool. I needed another shower. “What kind of job?”

All right, I was being nosy, but I couldn’t help myself.

“She’s in medicine.”

BeBe woofed. She apparently wanted some more Ninaci-cle, as her tongue hung over the tailgate, slurping air.

I forced myself not to get distracted (but who knew dogs had such long tongues?). “What kind of medicine?”

“Pharmaceuticals.”

There was a whole range of areas that covered, from pre-scription to recreational.

I decided not to press.

Looking up at the sound of pounding footsteps, I saw Deanna bearing down, a clipboard tucked under her out-stretched arm, her watch glinting in the sunlight. With her right hand she tapped the watch face.

“People! Deadlines!” When she spotted me, she smiled and said, “What do you think?”

Nothing about me being hunkered in the back of the pickup. Oh, no, nothing unusual about that.

But I supposed she had a lot on her mind.

“I think it’s beautiful,” I said. “You did a great job.”

Her cheeks reddened with the praise and she smiled like a proud new mother. “Thanks,” she said, then became all business again by turning and tapping her watch and saying,

“People! People! Amy Sandruzzi will be home in twenty minutes. That means you too, Kit.”

I didn’t think I had to worry about Deanna having a crush on Kit anymore. Not with that tone.

“You better go,” I said to him.

He tugged on BeBe’s leash and actually got her to heel.

128

Heather Webber

I caught his eye. “No more BeBe, Kit.”

A dark eyebrow slashed upward. “Or what?”

I supposed he was trying for menacing, but I knew him too well. And the whole eyebrow thing looked more comical than dangerous. I bit my lip, but the laugh came out.

“What?” he asked, a frown pulling his thin lips downward.

“ ‘Or else,’ ” I mocked.

His jaw set. “It’s the hair, isn’t it? No one takes me seriously with this fuzz on my head.”

“It doesn’t help,” I said, raising my hand to wipe away the tears from my eyes, but then stopped because I remembered BeBe’s slobber. I used the neck of my T-shirt instead.

Offended, Kit spun and sauntered away, BeBe trying her best to get back to me the whole time.

I glanced at my watch, saw that if I wanted to stop by Greta’s house, I needed to get going. Riley was expecting me to pick him up soon. I climbed out of the pickup bed, took one last look at the Sandruzzi yard. It was in good hands.

I felt like a proud mama.

I parked my truck in front of the Grabinsky house and sat there for a minute.

The more involved I became with this whole mess, the more I regretted ever signing on to do the job.

Right then and there I made a commandment to not be so nosy where Kevin’s first wife was concerned.

It was none of my business.

Now that it was a commandment, I’d have to stick to it. I’d yet to find a loophole where commandments were concerned.

Lindsey and Bill’s explanation of why they hired me made sense on the surface . . .

But every time I repeated it, I kind of had that feeling I got after eating a whole roll of cookie dough.

Digging Up Trouble

129

All queasy, nothing sitting well.

“I don’t buy it.”

There, I said it. I didn’t believe Lindsey and Bill. Not one bit. There’s just no way, neighborly love or not, that someone would dole out that kind of money—and I charged a lot—for a gift. Especially since I knew Bill and Russ didn’t get along all that well.

Murder made much more sense.

“Eee!” I screamed when someone knocked on my passenger window. Turning, I found Meredith Adams, HOA VP, staring at me, arms folded, severely plucked eyebrows arched, sadistic smile gleaming.

Gritting my teeth, I powered down the window, then rubbed the spot on the top of my leg where it hit on the steering wheel when I’d jumped.