No more!
I stomped across the bedroom and into the bathroom before slamming the door. I leaned my ear silently against it, listening for marmoset chatter. I heard a whine and hopped back from the door. Had I hurt their feelings? A scratch at the door made me take another step back.
“You’ll protect me, right, Chaucer?” And then I realized that my baby wasn’t in the bathroom with me. I opened the door, and he trotted right in. “You gotta stay with me, buddy. We’re traveling behind enemy lines here.” I assessed my pup’s abilities. “Unless you were on a reconnaissance mission...” I leaned forward and kissed his head. He gave me a sweet doggy grin before rolling to the floor to wait me out.
I turned on the shower and peeled off the clothes I was wearing. I’d left my suitcase up here, figuring this was where I’d be dressing. Hopping from foot to foot, icy tiles leeching away precious body heat, I decided a rug was needed in here. Slippers would be good, too. Some of those big, wooly jobs.
I leaned into the shower to test the temperature. Gran, or perhaps Mr. Cavanaugh, had kept up with repairs because the water quickly became hot. It felt heavenly. It pounded into my tight, sore muscles. I used supermarket shampoo and conditioner I’d purchased on the road, nothing salon-tested to straighten curly hair. And I wasn’t going to blow it straight, either. Screw Justin and his hatred of curls. You know what I hated? Cheating bastards.
I’d canceled my last hair-straightening appointment, the result of a combination of being distraught and a fairly pathetic attempt at rebellion, considering my friend Christine, who I’d been staying with at the time, couldn’t care less what I did with my hair.
After getting dressed and toweling off, I made my way through the house in my stampiest walk—screw those snickering marmosets! Chaucer assumed we were playing and kept darting forward, lunging at my feet.
“Come on, buddy. Lots to do today. Mommy needs to figure out how to pay for your food.” Screw Justin, too! I didn’t need him. I had Gran’s house, and I was going to find a great job to support us.
Chapter Eleven
Aiden
Thank God I had that duffel bag in the trunk. She would have stroked out if she’d seen the opossum I pulled out of the bedroom closet. I’d need to stop at the hardware store and pick up long, thick work gloves. I wasn’t interested in contracting rabies.
I’d also need to go up every morning until the traps were empty. I should’ve called Harv, the exterminator, but she appeared to be living lean. I was not going to think about that pantry, empty except for a huge bag of dog food. She was taking care of the dog, but who was taking care of her? I shut that thought down. Not my problem.
Driving down Main Street toward the station, I saw Chuck’s food truck back where it shouldn’t be. We’d received yet another complaint about it from the woman who ran the cupcake shop near Agamont Park. They didn’t sell the same type of food, but regardless, the food truck wasn’t allowed to park and do business within two hundred feet of a restaurant. Trudy, the cupcake lady, and Chuck, the food truck guy, had been arguing and measuring for years. I sent Mikey to answer a call yesterday, but he’d come back saying the truck had moved before he got there.
I pulled up behind the truck and got out.
Trudy rushed out of the cupcake shop. “Chief! Are you finally going to do something about that idiot? He knows he can’t park?—”
“I can park anywhere I damn well please, and you know it!” His muffled voice issued from the open panel of the truck.
Trudy marched over to the open but empty panel. “Don’t you cuss at me! You know you need to park seven more spaces away from my shop!”
I wasn’t positive, but it sounded like Chuck told her to get an effing life. Trying to head off another blowup, I stepped in front of Trudy and turned her back to her shop. “Let me handle this. I’ll be in to pick up a cupcake in just a minute.”
“Humph. That man does this on purpose! I don’t know how his wife puts up with him. She’s a saint!” She marched back into her shop, bell dinging over the door.
Stepping up to the open panel and customer counter, I peered into the dark recesses of the truck and saw nothing. “Chuck? Are you in there?”
He staggered to his feet, looking rough. “’Ey, yeah, I’m here. Just avoiding that one.”
“Everything okay?” He smelled like stale beer, but that could have been from last night.
Shuffling items on the prep table, he avoided my face. “I’m not breaking the law.” Gesturing wildly around the kitchen, he said, “Does it look like I’m cooking in here?” He reached down, twisted something open and tipped his head back, downing a whole bottle of water. A drawer slid open and slammed. “I can’t find the damn aspirin.”
“If you’re not planning to cook, why did you open the customer panel?” He looked as though he’d slept in the truck last night.
He gestured at the ceiling, eyes still down. It sounded as though he was going through every drawer he could find. “I needed the light from outside to find the aspirin. Bulb blew and I don’t have a spare. I need to see, don’t I?” He glanced out of the truck, toward the cupcake shop. “Then that one comes tearing out, yelling to wake the dead.” He shook his head, finally looking at me. “Then you show up.”
“Have you been home, Chuck? You don’t appear to be in any condition to be driving this behemoth and cooking on that grill. Maybe we should give Myra a call to pick you up.”
Making a derisive sound, he turned away and walked to the front of the truck. “Good luck with that. She’s been at her sister’s for weeks.” The engine started. I jogged around the front of the truck cab, knocking on the closed windows. He stared ahead, pointedly ignoring me. When he reached for the gearshift, I pulled my badge out of my pocket and tapped that against the window instead.
“Turn off the engine and open the damn window, Chuck.”
A long-suffering sigh was emitted before he leaned forward to turn off the ignition. He took another moment before opening the window. “What?”
“You know what. You smell like the floor of a bar. Your eyes are bloodshot and light sensitive. I need to know that you’re okay to drive.”
