Guns, Wives and Chocolate

Guns, Wives and Chocolate

Copyright ©2018 Sally Berneathy

at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

http://www.sallyberneathy.com

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental (except Fred and King Henry).

Original cover art by Cheryl Welch, http://www.mywelchdesign.com/

Chapter One

A welcome home party to celebrate a drug dealer’s release from prison.

What could possibly go wrong with that?

Harold and Cathy Murray, grandparents of that drug dealer, arrived at my house on Saturday afternoon.

Come in, I invited. Good to see you! It was true. I liked the elderly couple who’d once owned my house.

Their grandson, George, the party honoree...not so much.

He was nowhere in sight. Maybe he wouldn’t show up for his own party.

Isn’t this a beautiful day? Cathy’s pink cheeks glowed, and her white curls bounced. The sun is out, the redbuds and forsythia are already blooming. I think this early spring is a good sign for George.

The early spring might be due to global warming or a groundhog who didn’t see his shadow last month, but I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with George. If a tornado loomed on the horizon, I could give him credit for that, but a bright spring day? No.

Harold, carrying two grocery bags, came in behind his wife. Meat, buns, and chips. His lips smiled but his eyes didn’t. George is having a cigarette before he brings the potato salad in.

Note to self: Don’t eat the potato salad.

Everything’s ready out back, I said. Trent’s got the fire going, chocolate chip cookies are on the patio table, and the ice chests are loaded with Cokes and bottled water.

The Murrays had specified no alcoholic beverages since they thought George might have addiction issues.

Years of using drugs, six years in prison for selling drugs...you think?

I looked out to the street where George leaned against the Murrays’ white sedan. He blew a stream of smoke in my direction.

I’d agreed to this welcome home party over two years ago because the Murrays were such sweet people. Who knew George would actually get out of prison?

But he did.

The future was now.

He tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his heel, all the time focusing his angry gaze on me as if he knew I was thinking about him.

A moving truck rumbled down the street, diverting his attention before he could incinerate me with his stare.

My new neighbors?

The eighty-nine year old widower who’d lived across the street and down one house had moved to Arizona to marry the younger woman he’d met online, a woman in her seventies. He was such a cradle robber.

My ex, Rickhead, immediately snatched up the property as an investment. These must be the new tenants.

Much as I wanted to find out more about them, I had to play hostess rather than nosy neighbor. There’d be time for that later.

I closed the door and went through the house to the back yard.

Smoke trailed lazily upward up from the grill on one side of the patio. A tall, good-looking guy in faded jeans and a red T-shirt with the logo of the local football team stood beside the grill. He wielded a spatula in one hand and held his other out to shake with Harold.

The sight of that tall, good-looking guy brought the happy to my heart. I would enjoy this party in spite of George as long as Trent—Detective Adam Trent—was with me. He had tried to talk me out of doing this but, when that failed, he’d settled for being here to keep an eye on everything. I could handle George, but I was glad for any excuse to have Trent around.

Harold put his bags on the patio table and accepted Trent’s hand. Really appreciate you all doing this.

Cathy set a tray of condiments beside my platter of cookies and gave Trent a hug. Knowing he’s accepted will help George get back into a normal life.

How could he get back into something he’d never had?

Cathy turned to the other side of the patio. Fred, Sophie, so glad you all could make it.

Fred and Sophie? Together? Drat! I hadn’t seen them arrive.

Fred lives next door, so he would have come from his back yard to mine, but Sophie lives across the street. She must have been at Fred’s house already. For how long? All night? I knew…suspected…they were having a relationship and it made me crazy that they wouldn’t tell me. They frustrated my nosy gene.

The two of them lounged in matching folding chairs and held matching crystal glasses. I felt certain those glasses did not contain a soft drink.

Cathy hugged them both. You look gorgeous, Sophie.

She always did. Long, dark, straight hair, olive skin, and a beautiful smile.

Lindsay, do you need some help? Sophie offered.

Thanks, but everything’s ready.

George came skulking around the side of the house.

I stopped.

He stopped.

Cathy hurried over and took the large plastic bowl from him. George, sweetheart, come meet everybody.

He draped an arm around her shoulders and his gaze softened. Maybe he wasn’t one hundred percent bad if he loved his grandmother. Nana, I invited a friend. Is that okay?

Her smile remained in place but appeared a little forced. Of course it’s okay. After all, this is your party.

Thanks! This is Gaylord Dumford.

A sinister version of the Howdy Doody puppet from the ’50s children’s show slouched into view behind George. Brought the birthday boy a present. Howdy Doody held up a large bottle of bourbon.

He hadn’t heard about Cathy’s no-alcohol request.

Or didn’t care.

Cathy ignored the booze and introduced her grandson and his buddy around the group as if this were tea at the country club and Gaylord Dumford was George’s best friend from high school.

More likely his former cellmate.

From across the patio came a sizzling sound followed by a mouth-watering aroma.

How does everybody like their burgers cooked? Trent asked.

Medium, I replied.

Burnt, Harold said.

Medium. Fred gave his glass to Sophie and stood. I’ll get more chairs.

By the time he returned with four chairs, we needed more.

George had a lot of friends.

Some of them brought beer.

Somebody passed around bourbon in paper cups.

They laughed and talked and drank.

Cathy, Harold, and I huddled over by the grill with Trent.

The warm spring day had developed a chill in spite of the bright sunshine.

I’m so sorry, Cathy said. He didn’t tell me he was going to invite his friends.

Harold frowned. I didn’t know he had any friends.

It’s okay, I said. No problem. Those damn manners my mother forced on me. It was not even close to okay.

Lindsay!

I turned toward the sound of my name and froze.

The woman coming around the house could not be…

Her bright red hair glowed in the dying rays of the sun and her bright red lips smiled widely.

Grace. Rickhead’s first ex.

I saw all the cars and thought you must be having a party, she said. I know you won’t mind if Rickie stays here for a little while until we get everything moved into the house. He has so much energy, he keeps getting in the way of the movers, and we don’t want one of them to trip.

You’re moving? Please don’t let this be related to that van I saw!

Didn’t Rick tell you? He bought the house across from Paula, and Chuck and I are renting it. We’re going to be neighbors!

Neighbors? I’d have chosen a serial killer who kept bodies in the basement over Grace and Rickie for my new neighbors!

Rickie sidled up. I’ve missed you, Aunt Lindsay. Rickhead’s eleven year old son has his mother’s big brown eyes and his father’s gift for being a con artist.

It’ll be easier for Chuck to find a job here than in Crappie Creek, Grace said. He travels so much, he’s hardly ever home with his family. She beamed up at the skinny bearded man behind her.

Chuck. Her new husband.

My new neighbors.

Gaylord sauntered over to join us. The phony grin that spread across his broad face made him look even more like a psychotic Howdy Doody. Hey, Chuckie!

Grace’s husband knew one of George’s friends? Not a good sign.

Chuck stiffened. Hey. How you doing, Dumford?

Got something here you’re gonna like. Howdy extended a homemade cigarette.

Chuck lifted his hand, and for a moment I thought he was going to accept.

Instead he took a package of gum from his shirt pocket and unwrapped a stick. Thanks. I quit. He put the gum in his mouth and chewed.

Chuck quit smoking for Rickie and me. Grace beamed up at her husband.

He beamed down at her.

I was pretty sure the item offered was not a nicotine type cigarette, but Chuck didn’t smoke whatever it was anymore, and Grace was happy.

Honey, Grace said, would you grab Rickie before he drinks that beer?

I wasn’t honey, but I dashed to the table where Rickie was lifting a can to his mouth.

I snatched it from him.

He glared at me.

Don’t you think you’re a little young for that, especially with a cop standing a few feet away?

My daddy lets me drink beer.

I do not.

Interesting. Chuck acknowledged the daddy reference. Chuck climbed a notch in my book.

Rickie sneered. My real daddy.

No, he doesn’t. I wouldn’t have put such a thing past my ex, but I knew he’d never spent enough time with his son for them to have a beer together.

Rickie, Chuck is your daddy now. Grace wrapped an arm around her husband. He’s adopting Rickie and then we’ll be a real family. Rick signed the papers and we accepted five years free rent on the house for back child support. We go before the judge on Monday to make it official.

I wasn’t even a little surprised that Rickhead would so easily give up custody of his son.

My regard for Chuck went up another notch. If he was willing to take on the job of parenting this demon child, he had my respect.

Can I have a cookie? the demon child asked.

The fact that he’d asked instead of grabbing one told me Chuck was teaching him some manners.

Of course you can. Grace, Chuck, help yourselves to cookies. When you finish unpacking for the day, you’ll be too tired to cook, so please come over and grab a burger. I started to say we’d have a lot of food left over, but I wasn’t sure that would be true with such a large gathering of George’s friends. I’ll save some for you.

Thank you! Grace gushed. She took a cookie and handed one to Chuck. Lindsay makes the best cookies in the world.

I couldn’t disagree.

Rickie munched on his cookie as he pushed through the noisy crowd toward the grill where Trent was moving cooked meat patties to a platter. Can I have a hamburger?

You bet. Trent’s a sucker for kids, even demon spawn kids. Grab a plate and a bun.

Rickie wants to be a policeman like Trent when he grows up, Grace said.

I ignored her fanciful comment. Let her keep her dreams about her miscreant son for a few more years. You should probably take Rickie home with you. I’m not sure you want him to be around these people.

He’ll be fine. We’re not worried with Trent and Fred here. She waved in Fred’s direction.

Fred took a long drink of whatever was in his glass.

The pretty lady with him must be Sophie, Grace said. Rickie told me all about her. He adores her.

And Sophie adored him. She’s even more delusional about kids than Cathy and Trent.

Smoke came from another source besides the grill.

You can’t smoke out here! I pushed my way to the man with a cigarette in his hand. Take it to the street!

The big bearded man looked at me and took another puff.

I yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and stomped on it.

His gross features burst into a creditable imitation of Wolfman. He grabbed my shoulders with two big paws.

Is there a problem? Trent’s voice came from behind me.

The talk and laughter stopped. Cops have that effect on criminals.

Wolfman took his paws off my shoulders and looked sheepish.

I’ll show you the way to the street. Trent’s voice was quiet and deadly.

Wolfman flinched. No, man, it’s all good. Didn’t see the no smoking sign.

Didn’t post one, I said. Didn’t know you could read.

Wolfman gave me the evil eye, gulped from his paper cup, and turned his back to us.

Trent returned to the grill, and I looked around for Grace. She and Chuck were leaving, already halfway around the house. Rickie stood at the table, adding mustard and onions to his burger.

I started after Grace and Chuck.

Howdy Doody was ahead of me. He grabbed Chuck’s arm.

Were they going to have a fight? Could this party get any worse?

Loud, raucous music burst through the evening air.

Yes.

I stomped through the crowd toward a short, skinny guy with a paper cup of something in one hand and a cell phone in the other. The loud noise came from the phone. I snatched it from him.

Hey! he protested. That’s mine!

I switched it off. You turn it on again, and it’s mine. I’ll give it to the cop over there at the grill and let him run the serial number to find out if it’s stolen.

His eyes popped as he looked in Trent’s direction.

I dropped the phone into his lap.

Another man took his cigarette from his mouth and crushed it on the pavement, his gaze never leaving mine. I could almost read his thoughts. Red-headed bitch is crazy. I better humor her.

A wise decision.

What was I doing before the latest interruption? Oh, yeah, trying to catch Grace and Chuck so I could return Rickie to them.

Grace and Chuck were gone. Rickie was not. That was not a good thing.

Howdy Doody was also gone and there was no blood on the ground. That was a good thing.

Rickie had settled into a chair between two of George’s friends. All three munched on burgers.

Music exploded from the crowd.

I started in that direction but Fred beat me to it.

Just as well because another man was lighting up a cigarette over by Trent.

My personal cop spoke a few words in his ear. The man paled and dropped the cigarette.

Rickie, I said, Sophie would like for you to join her. I turned in her direction. Wouldn’t you, Sophie?

She smiled and waved.

Rickie returned her wave. Nah, I want to stay here with my new homies. They got lots of funny stories.

I gritted my teeth. He’s just a child, I reminded myself. Sometimes he and I got along okay. Sometimes I kind of liked him. This wasn’t one of those times. Rickie, if you don’t get up, take your chair, and join Sophie right now, I’m going to have Trent put you in handcuffs and drag you over there.

Cool!

I grabbed his ear. I’d seen his grandmother use that technique on his grown uncles.

Ow! he shrieked. You hurt me! I’m gonna call social services.

Go ahead! What are they going to do? Tell me I can’t get within a hundred feet of you? Gosh, that would break my heart!

A hand touched my shoulder.

I spun around, ready to hit somebody.

It was Fred. I didn’t hit him. Maybe you should go inside, have a brownie and relax. I’ll take care of this.

I opened my mouth to protest then closed it. Fred was right. I was losing it. I needed to calm down, let Fred handle Rickie.

I pushed through the obnoxious guests and made my way to Trent.

He studied me closely as I approached. You okay?

Not really. I’m going inside for a few minutes.

Good idea. He flipped another burger and scanned the crowd. "Fred and