The Gamble
Page 133
“What I know about Arlene is she’s had Nina’s fish casserole.”
I decided to wade in. “I’m thinking of making my pasta bake tonight, Linda. Why don’t you come for that?”
“See?” Linda flipped a hand out to me but didn’t take her eyes from Max. “Even Nina’s polite enough to ask your mother to dinner.” She turned to me and queried, “Are your folks comin’?”
I wondered briefly what Mom plus Linda would equal for the night’s experience and I was guessing they’d probably enjoy it but Max and I sure as heck wouldn’t.
Then with no choice, I answered, “Um… sure.”
Linda turned to the skillet and flipped pancakes. “Then I’ll be delighted to come.”
I chanced a glance at Max to see he was staring at me and I knew without him saying a word that he’d calculated the same equation and came up with the same answer.
I tilted my head to the side and shrugged. Max shook his head.
I ate my pancakes.
* * * * *
As Max taught me, I looked down the sight of the gun but I didn’t really have to do much since he was standing behind me, his body pressed close to mine, his arms around me, his hands mostly around mine, aiming the gun.
“Shoot, baby,” he said into my ear, I pulled the trigger, there was a loud rapport, our hands jumped back with the recoil and the can, dead center in the triangle Max set up on a fallen log, flew back causing all of them to collapse.
“Yay!” Mom shouted, taking her hands from her ears and clapping, the noise muted by gloves. She was sitting on a tree stump Max had cleared of snow and I’d thrown a woolen blanket over. “Neenee Bean,” she called, moving her eyes from the cans to me, “you’re getting really good at that.”
“Great,” I muttered, Max chuckled and Steve spoke.
“Company.”
Max’s arms went from around me and he and I both turned to the drive, seeing a police SUV parking behind Mom and Steve’s car.
We were outside and it was after pancakes; after Max took Linda back to town while I had a shower; after me getting ready; after Mom and Steve had arrived; after Steve had shoveled the steps to the house; and after Max got back in time for Mom to make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.
And, I guessed, watching Mick hop down from the cab of the SUV, after my shooting lesson.
“What now?” Max muttered, taking the gun from my hand, sliding on the safety and shoving it in the waistband of his jeans as he watched Mick saunter to us.
“Hey Max, Nina,” Mick called when he was close.
“Hi Mick,” I called back, Mick’s eyes went to Mom and Steve, “these are my parents, Nell and Steve Locke.”
“How d’ya do?” Mick greeted, arriving at our group.
I got a good look at his face and I tensed.
Mom and Steve didn’t answer because Max got there before them.
“What’s up?” Max asked and from his tone I knew he’d gotten a good look at Mick’s face too.
Mick looked at Max. “You think we can talk privately?”
“Shit,” Max muttered.
“Steve and I’ll go in, make coffee, how’s that?” Mom enquired and I looked at her. She’d wrapped both her hands around Steve’s bicep and she, too, was reading Mick’s expression.
“Thanks, Miz Locke,” Mick replied, Mom nodded and both Mom and Steve gave Max and me a look before they started moving toward the A-Frame.
“Nellie, please, no one calls me Mrs. Locke,” Mom invited from over her shoulder, still walking away.
Mick nodded at Mom, waited several moments as she and Steve made their way to the house and then he turned to Max and me.
“I’ll just… um… go with them,” I offered, starting to move away.
“Nina, reckon you should stay,” Mick told me, my breath caught and my body locked.
“What’s up?” Max repeated, Mick looked at him and I slid my thumb through the belt loop at the back of Max’s jeans.
“You know that PI Dodd hired?” Mick asked Max.
“Yeah,” Max answered.
“Welp, we found him dead,” Mick informed Max.
“What?” I breathed, moving closer to Max.
“Found him dead,” Mick repeated, his eyes coming to me for his answer then going back to Max. “Been dead awhile. Some boys found him at one of Dodd’s building sites.”
“When?” Max queried.
“Coroner’s guessin’ the same night Curt was done,” Mick replied.
“How’d he die?” Max asked.
“Messy,” Mick answered. “Not clean, not professional. He’d been tied up, taken there, killed. Shot four times. Twice in the head, twice the chest. Whoever did it wanted to make sure he was dead.”
Max stared at Mick and I moved closer, so much closer Max was forced to slide an arm along my shoulders.
“Can I ask why you’re up here tellin’ me this?” Max queried.
Mick shuffled his feet, twisted his neck uncomfortably then looked Max in the eye. “Did you know your sister Kami bought a .38 ‘bout a month ago?”
I felt Max go still at my side. Then he answered, “No.”
“Paperwork filed then,” Mick went on, “got it at Zip’s Gun Emporium in Denver.”
“You’re tellin’ me this because…?” Max prompted.
“’Cause the PI was killed with a .38.”
“Jesus Christ, Mick!” Max exploded, coming unstuck, he leaned into Mick. “You tellin’ me you think Kami murdered this PI?”
Mick’s hands came up but he kept the dire information flowing. “She borrowed on her house, Max. Twenty-five K.”
“Fuck,” Max clipped.
“You know about that?” Mick asked.
“No,” Max bit out.
“Jeff ‘n’ Pete are bringin’ her in now,” Mick told Max.
“My sister didn’t kill any PI, Mick,” Max returned. “And she sure as f**k didn’t hire someone to kill Curt.”
“It ain’t lookin’ good for her, Max,” Mick replied.
I butted in, asking, “Why are you telling Max this, Mick?”
“I ain’t tellin’ Max, Nina,” Mick said to me. “I’m tellin’ you.”
I blinked. Then I asked, “Me?”
“Heard word you’re an attorney,” Mick explained. “We been combin’ Kami’s records, she don’t got a lot, bank statements show she’s pretty much got zilch, livin’ from paycheck to paycheck, beyond her means, flyin’ high in her Lexus cartin’ around those fancy-ass purses on credit. Figure she’ll need some help ‘round about now and George isn’t only covered in work, he’s pricey.”
I decided to wade in. “I’m thinking of making my pasta bake tonight, Linda. Why don’t you come for that?”
“See?” Linda flipped a hand out to me but didn’t take her eyes from Max. “Even Nina’s polite enough to ask your mother to dinner.” She turned to me and queried, “Are your folks comin’?”
I wondered briefly what Mom plus Linda would equal for the night’s experience and I was guessing they’d probably enjoy it but Max and I sure as heck wouldn’t.
Then with no choice, I answered, “Um… sure.”
Linda turned to the skillet and flipped pancakes. “Then I’ll be delighted to come.”
I chanced a glance at Max to see he was staring at me and I knew without him saying a word that he’d calculated the same equation and came up with the same answer.
I tilted my head to the side and shrugged. Max shook his head.
I ate my pancakes.
* * * * *
As Max taught me, I looked down the sight of the gun but I didn’t really have to do much since he was standing behind me, his body pressed close to mine, his arms around me, his hands mostly around mine, aiming the gun.
“Shoot, baby,” he said into my ear, I pulled the trigger, there was a loud rapport, our hands jumped back with the recoil and the can, dead center in the triangle Max set up on a fallen log, flew back causing all of them to collapse.
“Yay!” Mom shouted, taking her hands from her ears and clapping, the noise muted by gloves. She was sitting on a tree stump Max had cleared of snow and I’d thrown a woolen blanket over. “Neenee Bean,” she called, moving her eyes from the cans to me, “you’re getting really good at that.”
“Great,” I muttered, Max chuckled and Steve spoke.
“Company.”
Max’s arms went from around me and he and I both turned to the drive, seeing a police SUV parking behind Mom and Steve’s car.
We were outside and it was after pancakes; after Max took Linda back to town while I had a shower; after me getting ready; after Mom and Steve had arrived; after Steve had shoveled the steps to the house; and after Max got back in time for Mom to make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.
And, I guessed, watching Mick hop down from the cab of the SUV, after my shooting lesson.
“What now?” Max muttered, taking the gun from my hand, sliding on the safety and shoving it in the waistband of his jeans as he watched Mick saunter to us.
“Hey Max, Nina,” Mick called when he was close.
“Hi Mick,” I called back, Mick’s eyes went to Mom and Steve, “these are my parents, Nell and Steve Locke.”
“How d’ya do?” Mick greeted, arriving at our group.
I got a good look at his face and I tensed.
Mom and Steve didn’t answer because Max got there before them.
“What’s up?” Max asked and from his tone I knew he’d gotten a good look at Mick’s face too.
Mick looked at Max. “You think we can talk privately?”
“Shit,” Max muttered.
“Steve and I’ll go in, make coffee, how’s that?” Mom enquired and I looked at her. She’d wrapped both her hands around Steve’s bicep and she, too, was reading Mick’s expression.
“Thanks, Miz Locke,” Mick replied, Mom nodded and both Mom and Steve gave Max and me a look before they started moving toward the A-Frame.
“Nellie, please, no one calls me Mrs. Locke,” Mom invited from over her shoulder, still walking away.
Mick nodded at Mom, waited several moments as she and Steve made their way to the house and then he turned to Max and me.
“I’ll just… um… go with them,” I offered, starting to move away.
“Nina, reckon you should stay,” Mick told me, my breath caught and my body locked.
“What’s up?” Max repeated, Mick looked at him and I slid my thumb through the belt loop at the back of Max’s jeans.
“You know that PI Dodd hired?” Mick asked Max.
“Yeah,” Max answered.
“Welp, we found him dead,” Mick informed Max.
“What?” I breathed, moving closer to Max.
“Found him dead,” Mick repeated, his eyes coming to me for his answer then going back to Max. “Been dead awhile. Some boys found him at one of Dodd’s building sites.”
“When?” Max queried.
“Coroner’s guessin’ the same night Curt was done,” Mick replied.
“How’d he die?” Max asked.
“Messy,” Mick answered. “Not clean, not professional. He’d been tied up, taken there, killed. Shot four times. Twice in the head, twice the chest. Whoever did it wanted to make sure he was dead.”
Max stared at Mick and I moved closer, so much closer Max was forced to slide an arm along my shoulders.
“Can I ask why you’re up here tellin’ me this?” Max queried.
Mick shuffled his feet, twisted his neck uncomfortably then looked Max in the eye. “Did you know your sister Kami bought a .38 ‘bout a month ago?”
I felt Max go still at my side. Then he answered, “No.”
“Paperwork filed then,” Mick went on, “got it at Zip’s Gun Emporium in Denver.”
“You’re tellin’ me this because…?” Max prompted.
“’Cause the PI was killed with a .38.”
“Jesus Christ, Mick!” Max exploded, coming unstuck, he leaned into Mick. “You tellin’ me you think Kami murdered this PI?”
Mick’s hands came up but he kept the dire information flowing. “She borrowed on her house, Max. Twenty-five K.”
“Fuck,” Max clipped.
“You know about that?” Mick asked.
“No,” Max bit out.
“Jeff ‘n’ Pete are bringin’ her in now,” Mick told Max.
“My sister didn’t kill any PI, Mick,” Max returned. “And she sure as f**k didn’t hire someone to kill Curt.”
“It ain’t lookin’ good for her, Max,” Mick replied.
I butted in, asking, “Why are you telling Max this, Mick?”
“I ain’t tellin’ Max, Nina,” Mick said to me. “I’m tellin’ you.”
I blinked. Then I asked, “Me?”
“Heard word you’re an attorney,” Mick explained. “We been combin’ Kami’s records, she don’t got a lot, bank statements show she’s pretty much got zilch, livin’ from paycheck to paycheck, beyond her means, flyin’ high in her Lexus cartin’ around those fancy-ass purses on credit. Figure she’ll need some help ‘round about now and George isn’t only covered in work, he’s pricey.”
