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Authors: Cynthia Hickey

Fudge-Laced Felonies (17 page)

BOOK: Fudge-Laced Felonies
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I choked back the giggles threatening to rise like champagne bubbles. No wonder the Bible advised against gossip. “The last I heard, I’m in perfect health other than a skinned knee and a cut hand, Mr. Miller.” I extended my palm. “I greatly appreciate your overwhelming generosity and Christian spirit, but I’ll pay full price for the mattress if you’ll deliver it for free.”

The man tugged on his left earlobe. “Deal.”

I left the store with a pink sales slip in my hand. I opened my car door, slid in, and then the laughter I’d held in check burst forth. I felt as if I’d played the childhood game of telephone, where what originally was said gets distorted as each person tells the next one. Aunt Eunice would get a kick out of this story.

The day’s events kept me entertained on the half- hour drive back to Mountain Shadows. I’d call April as soon as I got home. We’d have a good laugh over the thought of me being at death’s door.

Sobering, a question rose in my mind. What did Mabel mean when she said I didn’t have much time? Could her statement be another part of the confusion, or did the reporter know something I didn’t?

Worship and praise music blared from my car stereo. I opened my mouth to belt out the words to the song when my teethed clicked together from a sharp jolt. The seat belt jabbed into my clavicle.

Hey! Somebody had better have good automobile insurance. I glanced over my shoulder. A truck fender filled my back window. I pressed on the accelerator. The truck surged forward.

The truck rammed me again. My annoyance turned to fear. My knee connected with the steering wheel, bringing tears to my eyes.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, I fished in my purse for my cell phone and punched in number 1, Ethan’s speed dial number.

No answer. I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat as the truck slammed into my car a third time. Metal screeched. Think, Summer. You’re intelligent. Get yourself out of this. 911!

The truck slowed in preparation for another hit, and I swerved across the median into oncoming traffic, thanking God it wasn’t rush hour. The white face of a woman driving a minivan sped past me. The driver tossed her hand up in an obscene gesture. Not what I needed at the moment.

The truck followed. I checked my rearview mirror, trying to see if a man or woman drove. A man, I thought. But I couldn’t be sure. The person wore a baseball cap and a dark shirt.

Grabbing my cell phone, I struggled to concentrate on driving and dialing 911. My fingers pressed the numbers, and another slam whipped my head. The phone dropped into the seat. I stomped on the brakes so the car wouldn’t be thrown into a spin. Tires squealed, and the air filled with the smell of burning rubber. A sob rose in my throat and stuck.

Horns blared as cars sped past us. My gaze swept the freeway ahead of me. Where were the police when you needed them? I swerved to miss an approaching car and steered back to the right side of the median.

“Please, God.” A tinny jingle of “Onward, Christian Soldiers” rang out, and I grabbed for my phone.

“Ethan. Thank the Lord.” I propped the phone between my cheek and shoulder and grasped the wheel with both hands.

“You called?”

“I’m on the freeway between Oak Hollow and Mountain Shadows. There’s a truck that keeps rear-ending me.” Tears streamed down my face, and I rubbed my cheek against my shoulder.

“Stay on the freeway. Don’t let the truck force you off the road or onto a side road. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Ow! They’re really hitting me hard, Ethan. I’m having a tough time controlling the wheel.” Tires screamed as the truck pulled alongside me, trying to force me over. “This plastic thing I drive isn’t going to hold much longer. Ethan!” My tires smoked.

“Did you call the police?”

“Almost. You’re the first person I thought of.” You’re always the first. My knuckles hurt from the strain of gripping the wheel.

“Okay. Hang on, Summer. I’m going to dial Joe from the house phone.”

“Don’t leave me, Ethan.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Ethan shouted my name before my car veered out of control and smashed into a tree.

 

 

 

Thirteen

 

The strong odor of antiseptic assailed my nostrils, and

I opened my eyes to dim lighting. My head ached, and I groaned, feeling nauseated. Moving as little as possible, I looked around the room.

Curtains in stripes of mint green and salmon surrounded my bed, cutting off my portion of the room. They’d clamped my index finger with one of those gadgets used for checking oxygen levels. A monitor beeped softly.

I groaned again and reached for the remote to raise the bed. My head swam, increasing the nausea. I scouted the nearby area for the little plastic tray they provide for that particular unpleasant business.

“Summer. Sweetie.” Aunt Eunice popped up from a chair to my right. “What do you need? Can I get you anything?”

“What happened?” The bed whirred until I reached a reclined sitting position. “I’m sick to my stomach.”

“What do you remember?” She handed me the salmon-colored plastic bowl.

I closed my eyes, remaining as still as possible until the nausea subsided.

Events played through my mind like a slide show. “A truck wouldn’t stop slamming into me. I called Ethan. That’s all I remember.”

A large hand covered mine, and I opened my eyes to stare into Ethan’s sapphire ones. Amazing how the sight of those blue eyes calmed me. Rooted me. “You were on the phone with me. Then nothing. Joe found your car wrapped around a tree on the side of the highway.” He raised his free hand to smooth the hair from my forehead.

The tenderness in his eyes caused tears to well in my own. “Am I going to be all right?”

“You’ll be colorfully painted around the eyes for a few days, and you’ve got a nasty goose egg on your forehead. Other than that, and the concussion, you’ll be fine.” A dimple winked in his right cheek. “I can’t say the same for your car.”

Tears beckoned. “I loved that car.”

“Honey, the important thing is you’re all right. The accident could’ve killed you. God’s angels definitely surrounded you.” Aunt Eunice fluffed my pillows. “I’ll call the nurse to let the doctor know you’re awake. He said you can probably go home in the morning.”

I nodded. Aunt Eunice waddled out of the room, and I blinked away the tears. My head hurt, and I’d welcome something for the pain.

Ethan bent forward and laid a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’ve told your aunt I’ll pick you up tomorrow. That way she can head in and open the store.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

He caressed my cheek and was gone. I felt bereft and abandoned.

 

I woke the next morning to birds twittering outside the window and a cotton feeling in my mouth. I was alone. I didn’t remember the nurse returning with medication, just nameless faces peering at me through the night. My aching head told me it was possible she hadn’t. The doctor popped in, we’d spoken, and he released me. That, I remembered.

Outside my room nurses talked in groups, coffee mugs in hand. A phone rang. A beeper went off.

The prior day’s events unfolded. I was certain I’d never seen the black truck before and not being interested in vehicles, I couldn’t tell anyone what make or model it was. Who wanted me injured, or worse? Sure, someone had made things difficult for me lately, but to want me dead? What had I done?

The words of the mattress salesman came back to me. Mabel had said I didn’t have much time. Were those her words or his interpretation of them? I shook my head, fighting back the nausea the movement caused. I needed to speak with Mabel.

They had unhooked me from the IV and other equipment. A fresh set of clothes lay folded on the nightstand. I slid my legs over the side of the bed and shrugged out of the hospital gown and into my clothes.

Short of breath, I lay back on the bed. Who would have thought a knock on the head could make a person so tired? I closed my eyes, intending to rest for a moment.

“Summer.” Joe stood at the foot of my bed. “Are you up to answering some questions?”

My eyes popped open. “Hello, Joe. Yes, I’m fine. So kind of you to ask.”

“Sorry.” He sat in the chair beside my bed. “You look terrible.”

I put a hand to my head, feeling the unruly mess.

“Yeah, someone told me I’ve got a couple of black eyes.”

“That’s not all. There’s a pretty nasty gash on your forehead. Took stitches.”

Stitches? My hand flew to my forehead. Why hadn’t I discovered the bandage before now? Would it leave a scar? Depression settled in as quickly as the arrival of Christmas. “What do you want to know, Joe?”

He pulled a small spiral notepad from his pocket. “What did the automobile that struck you look like? Did you catch the make and model? The license plate number?”

“Slow down. You’re making me dizzy. It was a big black thing. Maybe an SUV. The truck was behind me. I didn’t catch the license plate.”

“Did you get a glimpse of the driver? Male or female?”

I ran both hands through the matted mess on my head. “I couldn’t tell. My car sits low; the truck was high. I caught one glimpse of someone wearing a baseball cap. I called Ethan. That’s all I remember.” The questions made my head throb. “You need to look closer at Mabel.”

Joe looked up from his pad. “Why?”

“She told the manager at the mattress store I didn’t have much time.”

“Time for what?”

“I don’t know. But it sounds kind of fishy, considering someone tried to kill me.”

“I shouldn’t tell you this, Summer, but”—Joe closed the room door—“Ruby claims someone stole her SUV.”

“Claims?”

“Well, I thought it unusual she waited two days to report the vehicle stolen. Two hours after you were admitted to the hospital.”

I gnawed the inside of my lower lip. Was it possible one of those old ladies was the diamond thief? That one of them broke into my house and outran me? Possible. I did trip over the dog. And the person did stop to hide their coveralls and gloves in the shed. Maybe they feared getting caught and didn’t want to take the chance of leaving my property wearing the coveralls and gloves.

“Has anyone found Terri Lee?”

Joe shook his head. “Her mother’s worried. Terri Lee isn’t just hanging out with someone. She always calls home.”

“Maybe she’s behind all this. We haven’t found her body. Dead or alive.”

“Well, anything’s possible.” Joe snapped his notebook closed. “Ethan’s pulling the car around front to take you home. He’ll be here in a minute.”

He stuffed the notebook into his pocket and fidgeted from foot to foot. “You’re onto something, Summer, and someone’s running scared. Please let me put you, Uncle Roy, and Aunt Eunice into protective custody.”

A warm flush washed over me. “Why, Joe, you do care. I may not be the expert here, but I don’t think you’ll catch anyone if I’m hidden away somewhere.”

“I hate to admit it, but you may be the bait to crack this case. We need you alive and kicking. Ethan has graciously offered to undertake the job of being your bodyguard.” He tossed me a smile and left the room, holding the door open for Ethan.

Great. Now I’m bait. I’d definitely be discussing this with Joe once I was on my feet. Only the thought of my handsome, sent-from-heaven bodyguard could dispel my irritation.

“Are you ready?” Ethan planted a gentle kiss on my forehead, dodging the bandage. Last night, the cheek. Today, the forehead. I was tempted never to wash my face again.

“More than ready.” I accepted the hand he offered and allowed him to help me to my feet. My legs wobbled, and Ethan placed an arm around my waist. If I’d known how good this would feel, I’d have been hospitalized a long time ago.

“There’s a wheelchair right outside the door.” Ethan steered me out of the room and helped me get situated in the vinyl and steel contraption.

It was embarrassing to imagine people staring when Ethan rolled me from the hospital and into his waiting pickup. I’m sure I could’ve walked, given the chance.

“Home?” Ethan asked as he helped me into the vehicle.

“No. Take me by Mabel’s. I’ve got some questions to ask her.”

Ethan slid into the driver’s seat. “Summer.” He turned the key in the ignition.

I crossed my arms. “As my bodyguard, you have to take me where I want. You know I’ll go without you the first chance I get.”

He sighed and put the truck into gear. “What’s so important that it has to be done today?”

I clicked my seat belt and turned my head to glance at him. “Did Joe tell you what she said? That I didn’t have much time left? At least that’s what the mattress guy said she said.”

“You know how things get distorted.”

“That’s why I want to ask her directly.”

“Fine. But the doctor said you’re supposed to be resting.” He steered the truck from the parking lot to the highway. “One way or the other, you’re going to drag me into this, aren’t you?”

“Can I?”

Believe it or not, Ethan rolled his eyes. I thought only women did that. “I’m here, aren’t I? All right. Tell me what you know.”

Excitement overcame me. My face hurt from the grin I wore. “Aunt Eunice told me—well, screamed it actually—that I should ask God who to put on my suspect list. Here are the people and why. Terri Lee, because she’s missing, she works with diamonds, and she’s just plain mean.”

Ethan cleared his throat, and I’m pretty certain his lips twitched.

“Also, Richard Bland. I’ve never met him, but he’s a diamond broker, also missing, and the police have found his car. Mabel Coffman has a Cadillac. There’s no way she could pay for that car on her pension and part-time salary. Same for Ruby Colville’s diamond ring.”

“What about Nate?”

“Nate? Why should he be on the suspect list?”

Ethan tossed me a glance before refocusing on his driving. “Because he’s new to town. We don’t know anything about him. Just because he’s courting you—”

I shook my head. “Your imagination is really something. Nate isn’t—”

“My imagination? Joe has probably checked out all these suspects of yours.”

“He’s missing something. Told me so himself.”

“And if the police can’t find out who the culprit is, what makes you think you can?”

BOOK: Fudge-Laced Felonies
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