You're Busting My Nuptials (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 2) (31 page)

He flipped to the next page and scanned the info. “Moved to Tyler four years ago. Her checking account shows a balance of two hundred and forty-seven dollars. Not enough to indicate any involvement in illegal activity.” He rested his arms on the counter and continued reading. “From the looks of her bank statements, she never had more than a couple thousand dollars.”

“Sounds like she got caught up in Gwynn’s scheme and wound up on the short end of the stick,” Jinx said

“Yeah, you need to be careful about the friends you choose.” Ridge turned another page. “Ramona and Gwynn share a joint account with no large amounts in or out. But here’s something interesting. They also have a safety deposit box.”

“That is interesting.”

“We need a court order for access to it.” Ridge started to say something to Rita, but the station phone rang. When she finished the call, she said, “That was Mr. Hester. He’s ready for y’all at the baseball field.”

Ridge straightened the papers and handed them to Rita. “Would you call Dan and ask him to contact a judge about getting the court order for the lock box?”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to leave my car here,” Ridge said. “I think we’ll walk to the field while the weather is nice. More rain is supposed to roll in this afternoon, but should be over in time for the festival.”

“I sure hope the newsman is right,” Rita said. “If not, there’s going to be a lot of disappointed kids.”

The cool, crisp morning air met Jinx and Ridge when they stepped outside. Ridge took a deep breath. He wanted to forget about the case for a while.

He could see Bubba up ahead with the sanitation workers. As he got closer, his nose twitched. “What’s that odor?” he asked Jinx.

“Port-a-potty deodorant, I think,” Jinx said.

Ridge rubbed his nose. “When I was in the crate, I thought I smelled a woman’s fragrance of sweet perfume, but it wasn’t. It was the same as this. Sonovabitch!”

“Wait a minute,” Jinx said. “We met two guys who own a port-a-potty business at one of the strip joints. They struck up a conversation with the girls.”

“Do you remember their names?”

“Hell yeah. You couldn’t forget them. Dick Rash and Harry Ball.”

Tizzy started to tell Ridge she
’d hired an entire crew from Sentry Security to work the festival, but thought better of it. She believed the old adage “There’s safety in numbers,” and she wasn’t taking any chances. Gracie deserved a normal life and she didn’t want to start hiding her every time Ridge worked a case. A ‘normal’
life? Gracie was having tea-parties with her dead daddy. How normal was that?

Tizzy shook the thought from her head and grabbed a pot from the cabinet. She poured in chicken stock and set it on the stove. Next, she dumped in the vegetables, and after the soup simmered for twenty minutes, she turned off the heat and spread slices of American cheese on top.

The white bowls with the turquoise trim made her happy, so she took them from the cupboard and placed them on the counter next to the spoons she’d put out earlier. When she reached for the saltines, the baby monitor crackled. She walked over and leaned down to listen.

“Daddy, do you like my bunny?” Gracie asked.

“I like her very much,” Boone said.

Tizzy’s hand flew to her heart and she gasped for breath. The pounding in her head sounded like a bass drum. With trembling fingers, she turned up the volume.

“What’s her name?” Boone wanted to know.

“I was gonna name her Betsy, but I like Rosie.”

“Rosie. Hmmm. Your mother had a dog named Rosie when she was a little girl.”

Tears rushed from Tizzy’s eyes. The sound of Boone talking to Gracie stirred up memories and emotions
of him she had buried.

She’d not thought of Rosie in years. When her dad had been sheriff, he’d arrested the dog’s owners for cooking meth. He couldn’t bear to leave the puppy behind, so he’d brought her home to Tizzy. Rosie was nothing but a skinny little mutt, only a few months old, but she had the biggest brown eyes Tizzy had ever seen.

“Here Daddy, put this on,” Gracie said. “I’ll wear the purple one.”

“How do I look?” Boone asked.

“Boo-ti-ful. I’ll pour you some tea.”

Tizzy cried harder. Like Ridge always did, she knew Boone was wearing the pink boa.

“You’re beautiful,” Boone said, sadness in his voice. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world, the same as your momma. Hmmm, this tea is delicious.”

Tizzy buried her face in a dish towel and sobbed.

“Daddy, are you coming to the festival?”

Tizzy jerked her head up. Her heart stopped.

“Do you want me to?” A china cup clinked against a saucer.

“Yeah. We could ride the merry-go-round.”

“That sounds like fun. I’ll try, but right now, I’d better go. I think you’re about to have company. I love you, Gracie.”

Outside, Tizzy heard car doors slam. A minute later, Rayann and Synola were at the door.

She turned the volume down on the monitor and met them as they stepped into the room.

“Have you been crying?” Rayann asked, her eyes going wide with surprise. “What’s wrong?”

Synola laid her files on the counter. “You and Ridge didn’t fight, did you?”

Tizzy shook her head and pointed to the monitor. “Boone,” she squeaked out.

“Oh—my—God.” Synola’s mouth hung open.

Before Tizzy could say anything, Gracie ran into the room. “Momma! My first daddy said he’s coming to the festival. We’re gonna ride the merry-go-round!”

Tizzy stooped down and hugged her. “That’s great.”

Gracie squirmed out of her arms. “Did you have a dog named Rosie?”

Tizzy fought back tears and nodded.

“I changed my bunny’s name to Rosie.”

Tizzy smiled. “The next time you’re at Pattiecake and Poppa’s house, ask her to show you a picture of Rosie. I’m pretty sure she has one.”

“Okay,” she said and looked at Rayann and Synola. “Are y’all coming to the festival? Both my daddies are coming.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Synola said.

“Can I have some more cookies?” Gracie asked. “Daddy ate all the others.”

Tizzy cocked her head to one side. “Really?”

Gracie hung her head. “No. I ate them. Daddy never eats any. He just pretends to.”

“Sure,” Tizzy said, and handed her two more.

“Can I watch cartoons in your room?”

“Yes,” Tizzy said and Gracie scampered down the hall.

Rayann slipped her hand around Tizzy’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You should have heard them together. Boone was so sweet. I can’t take him away from her.”

“Well, having him fly all around downtown might not be a bad thing,” Synola said. “Plus, he could be Gracie’s guardian angel . . . literally.”

Tizzy wagged her head. “I don’t think so. He told me, his emotional energy doesn’t last long, so his flying around is limited. God, listen to how crazy we sound.”

They all laughed, then Rayann asked. “How did y’all’s list come out? I came up with two possible perps.”

“Rayann’s talking cop talk,” Synola teased. “I listed three—kinda.”

“Two for me,” Tizzy said. “Let’s sit down. Y’all want something to drink?”

“Diet Coke,” Rayann said.

Synola talked as she followed Rayann to the table. “Same for me.”

Tizzy brought sodas and sat down. “Before we get started, where do y’all think Ramona went?” Carbonation hissed when Tizzy popped the top on her can. “Do you think they had a car at the airport and she drove away?”

“No,” Synola said. “There’s only one car registered in Gwynn’s name and none in Ramona’s. The cops have Gwynn’s.”

Rayann took a sip of her drink. “The truck Ridge was in was also impounded. Bubba said it was still registered to the previous owner.”

“How’s that?” Synola asked.

“In Texas, you have twenty days to register the vehicle in your name. If you buy one with current tags, you can wait until they expire. Because of that, there wasn’t a paper trail to her.” Tizzy bent the tab on her can back and forth until it broke loose. “I think Ramona hopped in one of the cabs in line to pick up passengers. Of course I don’t know where she went.”

Tizzy neatly straightened her files in front of her. She pulled out a paper, studied the sheet for a minute, then spoke again. “Okay. Ridge worked murders and aggravated assaults in Philly for three years. Total cases for that time period numbered one hundred twenty-three. We excluded the forty-six assault cases and concentrated on the seventy-seven murder cases.”

Tizzy got up and walked to the kitchen counter. She returned with the plate of cookies and they all took one.

“Of the twenty-six files I took,” Synola said, munching as she talked, “I did what you suggested. I divided them into four groups. First, second, third degree felonies and voluntary manslaughter. Of those, I tried to find a connection to Gwynn or Tawny.”

“I did the same,” Rayann said.

Tizzy opened a folder. “Johnny Marsh was from Baltimore. Reginald Wilman owned a strip club. Since Gwynn was from Baltimore and worked the clubs, I thought they might be connected.”

Synola leaned forward and put her chin in her hand. “I didn’t have anybody from Baltimore, but I got Lenny Grabowski from Rosedale, Maryland, and that’s close to Baltimore. Felix Gorban was a big time crime boss and my other choice is Luca Galati. I was gonna vote for him, because his name sounds like he’d have connections and could give orders from the joint. Plus, he had a chain of dry cleaners all over Baltimore.” She laid the file to the side. “But, it turns out he died about six months ago, so I ruled him out. There were also some others who looked good but were deceased.”

Tizzy turned her attention to Rayann. “What about your two?”

Rayann considered the plate of cookies for a second, then took another one. “Is that cabbage I smell?”

“Yeah.” Tizzy nodded. “Cabbage Cheese Soup. I thought we’d eat it for lunch.”

Rayann turned to Synola. “Oh, the other day at the cafe, you did realize Colton was totally hitting on you.”

“Yeah.”

“You going to do anything about it?” Tizzy asked.

“He’s a little old for me, but maybe I will.”

“What about Jinx?”

“What about him?” Synola crossed her arms over her chest. “We aren’t serious. We’re just—convenient.”

Tizzy picked up her phone, scrolled and said, “The definition of convenient is appropriate, suitable, and correct. Y’all are perfect for each other. Why rock the boat?”

Synola arched her brows so high they almost disappeared into her hair line. “The definition of convenient is easily accessible. That’s all Jinx and I are.”

“Umm-hmmm. Would it bother you if he dated someone else?”

“Jinx and I aren’t dating. We’re having sex.” Synola smirked. “And damn good sex, I might add. Now, can we get back to the subject?” She glared at Rayann.

Rayann opened her folders and spread them out. “I don’t understand how this happened. Out of all these files, I end up with two who previously belonged to a clown association.”

Tizzy and Synola burst into laughter.

Ridge stared at the Superman costume. This was a lesson he wouldn’t forget. He silently swore to never bet with Tizzy again. Who could have predicted Texas Tech, after trailing Nevada the entire game, would come back in the last forty-four seconds and score a winning touchdown.

Her giggle from the doorway broke his concentration. “Stop laughing.”

“I can’t help myself. You are going to be soooooo sexy in that costume.”

“I’m not wearing it.”

“Yes, you are. A bet’s a bet.”

“No, I’m not. I’ve thought this over and decided I have an image to uphold and there’s no way in hell I’m going to parade around downtown in tights.”

“You’re also a man of integrity. You agreed to wear whatever I picked out if you lost the wager. You’ll never go back on your word.”

Ridge sat on the edge of the bed. “Okay, here’s the deal. You want me to dress as Superman, so I’ll be Clark Kent transitioning into Superman. I’ll wear pants with a shirt unbuttoned to show the “S” emblem. I’ll even use the cape, but I’m not putting on those tights and that’s final.”

“I’m curious. If you’d won the bet, what costume would I be wearing?”

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t try to embarrass you.”

She walked over to him, pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I think you are Superman,” she said and rocked against him. “You’re
my
Superman.”

He moaned. “I’m not wearing the damn tights, Tizzy.”

“Okay, already,” she removed herself from his lap. “Crap, I thought I had you for a minute.”

Ridge sat up. “You can
have
me anytime you want, without spandex. Besides, where would I keep my gun?” Ridged eyed her. “Don’t say it.”