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“My truck!” Jake moaned.
“Your ass,” I said, wincing as I tried to turn my neck and look into the rearview mirror. “I saved your ass and all you can think about is a few cosmetic repairs to your grillwork?”
I heard gunfire behind us, close behind us, and saw Joey Smack’s people on our tail.
“You still got your gun?” I asked.
Jake pulled himself up onto the front seat, SIG-Sauer in hand, panting with the pain and exertion.
“Out the back window,” I said.
Another gunshot and the left rearview mirror bit the dust.
“Goddamnit! That does it!” Jake cried. He sprang up, aimed, and then lowered the pistol. “I can’t see a fucking thing! The damn sleigh’s in the way. I can’t get a shot off.”
I veered left, then right, hoping to keep the car from pulling up alongside us. I looked in the rearview mirror again just as Santa took matters into his own hands. As I watched, the robotic Santa seemed to sway, his arms spinning wildly as he careened out of the sleigh and almost toppled off the back of the flatbed. He lay like a swimmer, poised to dive, wobbling.
“Jake?”
“What now?”
“You didn’t have time to tie Santa down, did you?”
Jake rose to look out the back window frame.
Santa began to move, sailing off the flatbed in slow-motion perfection, and crashing down onto the hood of our pursuers. There was a loud sound of tires screeching. The car bobbled across the highway and off into the woods. The last image I had was of a black sedan crashing into a tree and exploding into a fireball.
“Damn!” Jake murmured. “I think they’re dead.”
I ignored him and drove. There was nothing I could do about that right now. Saving our lives and taking care of Jake was my only focus. I had no idea how badly he’d been wounded. My chest hurt with the effort to keep from screaming. I wouldn’t allow myself to even consider the possibility of Jake’s injuries being life-threatening. I couldn’t go there and still function. It was all business or Stella blows a gasket, and I just couldn’t afford the luxury of emotion. I had to make sure Jake was safe and on the mend before I gave in to my feelings.
Along the way to the hospital we lost a couple of reindeer, but considering we’d managed to survive, I viewed the loss more as casualties of war and not shrinkage of the merchandise. I planned to charge Lifetime Novelty a hazard fee, too, for pain and suffering. By the time we actually reached the medical center, I’d managed to parlay our near disaster into a right hefty invoice, due upon receipt.
“You know,” I said as we pulled up to the emergency-room loading dock, “it wasn’t such a bad night after all! We got what we came for, nobody on our team died and we’re going to make a lot of money!”
When Jake didn’t answer, I turned to look at him. He was slumped against the passenger-side window, unconscious.
Chapter 2
Eventually, the entire team assembled in the emergency-room waiting area. I call us a team, but that’s really for lack of a better term. A few months ago, after my career and love life went ka-plooie in one short night, I’d returned home to my old hometown, hoping to lick my wounds and regroup. What’s that old saying? We make plans and God laughs? Three months later I was still here, only now I was in business with most of my extended family and a man who’d once left me standing at the altar.
If I’d seen another option, believe me, I would’ve hopped on it like ugly on an ape, but my uncle was dead, my aunt needed me, and my cousin was too much of a fruitcake to hold down a regular nine-to-five job. Besides, she was in love with the former assistant D.A. for Chester County. That kind of hookup comes in real handy when you’re starting a one-stop-does-it-all private investigation agency.
Jake won his ticket into the deal by helping me find my uncle’s killer. My aunt was along for the ride because she is one of our country’s brightest chemists, and because of that, she requires almost constant protection. Where better place to be protected than in an agency specializing in detection, protection and repossession?
So when Jake got shot, it was only natural that they all showed up to show their support. We might not have a plan, and on any given day one or more of us has at least one screw loose, but we are loyal, and my aunt loves Jake for reasons I may never really understand. There was no stopping them from coming, and to tell the truth, I was relieved. I looked around the waiting room, saw them sitting there, and felt somehow better about everything, even Jake.
My aunt Lucy, her gray hair still in pink rollers, her butterball body encased in a solid black dress with black sensible shoes, sat next to my bizarre cousin, Nina. My aunt was frowning and clutching her black purse to her ample bosom.
Nina, despite the early hour, looked the same as she always did, disheveled. She sat next to Spike Montgomery, Chester County’s former assistant D.A., and her girlfriend. Nina was wearing wrinkled khakis, a T-shirt under a wrinkled man’s cotton dress shirt and open-weave, thick-soled sandals. Her short, spiky blond hair stood out all over her head, its pink tips glowing like traffic cones in a work zone out on I–95. Sometimes I wondered how Spike, the seeming counterculture opposite to Nina, had ever fallen in love with such an oddball.
Spike was the only one of us who seemed unperturbed by a 4:00 a.m. wake-up call to the emergency room. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a simple, conservative ponytail. Her jeans were Tommy Hilfiger, dark denim, and very much unwrinkled. Her turtleneck sweater was unblemished beige, and matched her skin tone and flawless complexion. She wore stiletto heels, even at this hour, when it was all I could do to balance myself in sneakers. But that was Spike, performance artist and former D.A. With her, nothing was truly as it seemed. She was like a tiny Christmas present in a huge, well-wrapped box.
Of course, Lloyd wasn’t allowed in despite my aunt’s protests that he was really my uncle Benny reincarnated. He was, after all, an Australian sheepdog. My dog. Instead, Lloyd was relegated to Aunt Lucy’s ancient Buick, where he sat behind the wheel, with one paw on the gearshift, waiting for updates. Nina had tried to smuggle him in to no avail, and I could tell she wasn’t going to let the issue die an easy death.
As if reading my thoughts, Nina got up and decided to revisit the issue with the powers that watched over the emergency room. She walked across the room, shoulders squared, head held high. Spike watched, following Nina’s progress with a benevolent smile.
“The Western world so discriminates against Eastern philosophy,” Nina told the security guard at the E.R. entrance. “I mean, like, in China, Border collies would be a part of the family. They wouldn’t have to wait in cars.”
“Yeah, but that’s on account of the family don’t want nobody eating their backup stash,” the guard said. “Here we just say leave the animals outside where they belong.”
“You are such a bigot!” Nina sputtered.
That was when Aunt Lucy decided to get into the fray. “You are talking about my husband, sir,” she snapped. “And I do not appreciate your attitude! Benito should be with Jake.”
The security guard wasn’t sure what to do with this turn of events. He took the cigar stump out of his mouth and stared, slack-jawed, at my aunt.
“Excuse me?” he said.
Nina stepped in between the two. “My uncle died a few months ago. Aunt Lucy says the dog is him, reincarnated.” She glared at the guard. “And who’s to say he isn’t?” she finished, daring the man to disagree.
The security guard cocked his head to one side. “Is this uncle related to the patient?” he asked.
“No,” Aunt Lucy answered. “But we look out for each other.”
The guard gave her a patronizing smile. “Well, then,” he said, “if he ain’t family, he ain’t coming in anyway, so he can park his canine butt in the lot like all the other dogs!”
That’s when Spike took over dragging the two women inside while I took a detour back into Jake’s examining room. I was family on account of I’d told the admitting clerk that I was Jake’s wife. I figured they might get sticky on the policies and procedures, so I took care of the red tape early on.
After all, Jake had been unconscious. It was up to me to ensure his safety and overall well-being. We were partners now and even if I had mixed feelings about the guy in real life, it wouldn’t do to act that way when the chips were down. It just wouldn’t be professional. Actually, I was about to lose my mind worrying about him. I was having a great deal of trouble stuffing my feelings back into a neat little box. I couldn’t stand thinking he might be critically wounded.
“Relax,” the resident told me. “It’s just a flesh wound with a lot of blood loss. The bullet went clean through his side. Other than a couple of little scars, he should be fine. Just give him a few days’ rest and go easy on the, um, physical activities.”
It must’ve been the late hour. I stared at the doctor, not comprehending what he was trying to tell me.
“He means no sex for a couple of days, honey,” Jake said, leering at me from the exam table. “He doesn’t want you wearing your old husband out and possibly busting something open.” Jake chuckled. “Like I told you, Doc, she’s a feisty one, that wife of mine!”
The young doctor had the decency to blush, but Jake merely looked pleased with himself.
“I was only looking out for your best interests, Jake!”
“Don’t worry, baby,” Jake said. “I won’t let you get too frustrated.”
I crossed the room to the stretcher, bent down close to Jake’s ear and whispered. “You just wait until I get you out of here, then we’ll see who gets frustrated. You’re lucky I don’t rip those stitches out here and now, sport.”
Jake moaned and the doctor worked to conceal a smirk. I turned around just as he reached to hand me Jake’s discharge instructions.
“It’s really not at all like it seems,” I said. “He’s been like this since high school. See, I turned him down and he just hasn’t gotten over the shock. And by the way, we’re not really married. I just said that so the guard dogs out there would let me in. We work together.”
The doctor smirked harder. “Sure,” he said. “Happens all the time.” He stepped closer and peered into my eyes. “Were you injured at all? I mean, like a blow on the head maybe?”
I spun around just in time to see Jake behind me, making circular motions around his ear and then motioning to me, trying to indicate that I was the crazy one and the doc should humor me.
“Listen here, you,” I told Jake. “Don’t try me, buddy. It’s never too late to be seriously wounded.”
Jake laughed.
The doctor turned back to me. “I want you to close your eyes, then stand on one foot and touch your nose with the tip of your left index finger.”
“Oh, bite me!” I said. “Are you coming, Jake?”
“Not yet,” he said, grinning. “I’m running a little slow. Maybe if you talk dirty…”
“It’s probably the pain-medication talking,” the doctor said, still peering intently into my eyes. “Now, I really would like to check you out.”
“Wouldn’t we all?” Jake leered.
The doctor handed me a bottle of pills. “Give these to him every four hours, as needed.”
I gripped the bottle and looked back at my new victim. “Hear that, big boy? I’m to give these to you for pain, so I’d suggest you behave.”
I turned and glowered at the doctor who was approaching me with a blood-pressure cuff. “Back off, Shorty. I told you, I’m fine!”
The doctor blanched and practically ran from the room. I watched the door swing shut behind him and turned my attention back to Jake Carpenter. I was about to take him to task for everything, from leaving me at the altar my senior year of high school to making my life a living hell, but we were interrupted before I could launch my lecture.
“How you talk, Stella! I could hear every word you said to that nice doctor. What a disgrace. And then, to turn on this one when he is wounded and half out of his mind with the pain.”
Aunt Lucy stood in the doorway, glaring at me then smiling at Jake.
“He’s hurt! This is how you treat someone who saves you from God knows what kind of madman? I thought you said it was just going to be a routine side job?”
Aunt Lucy was taking no prisoners, but she had the facts all wrong.
“First off, he didn’t save me. I saved him! Secondly, it was supposed to be routine, but repos can go down easy or they can turn into your worst nightmare. This was just one of those times.”
Aunt Lucy ignored me, walking instead to the gurney where Jake sat, attempting to put on his shirt.
“Don’t move!” she groused. “Here.” With a deft hand, Aunt Lucy began buttoning Jake’s work shirt, all the while issuing orders. “You need rest and someone to look after you.” She shot a menacing look in my direction. “You are coming home with us.”
“Oh, Mrs. Valocchi, you don’t need to do that,” Jake protested.
It was as obvious he didn’t mean a bit of what he was saying. He let the words slip out slowly, as if he was feeling uncertain and weak. When Aunt Lucy patted his arm, Jake, man of stone, actually faked a wince. I could’ve thrown up. What a con!
“Yeah, Aunt Lucy,” I said. “Jake’s gonna be fine. Besides, where would you put him anyhow? All the bedrooms are taken with me and Nina and Spike there. I’ll look in on him at his apartment. It’s just a flesh wound. He’ll be fine.”
Wrong. I would’ve been better off taking a two-by-four and hitting myself in the head. Now I had incurred the wrath of Aunt Lucy.
“Stella Luna Valocchi!” she cried. Then she lapsed into Italian, which was unusual considering she was born and raised in the United States and learned Italian in college while also completing her Ph.D. in chemistry. But whatever the source of her rich vocabulary of Italian curses, the results were going to be the same. Jake was coming home with us, whether Jake liked it or not.
To add insult to further injury, the police, in the form of one very pissed-off and familiar female detective, materialized just as Aunt Lucy had Jake leaning on her arm and hobbling toward the exit.
Detective Poltrone, a bleached blonde with a brain deficiency, stood blocking our exit, notepad in hand and smug satisfaction written all over her face.
“Not so fast, kids,” she said. “I’ve got a report of a gunshot wound here and I’m thinking that somehow it has something to do with a burned-out sedan smoldering out off Route 322. How’s about we talk awhile?”
Aunt Lucy was incensed. “Can’t you see this man’s in pain?” she sputtered. “He can’t talk to you now. They gave him medicine. He won’t know what he’s saying!”
Jake’s eyes were a bit glassy, I thought, looking at him, and he had a goofy smirk on his face. Was it the pain medicine, or was he just enjoying himself too much?
Aunt Lucy didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she offered me up like a sacrificial lamb.
“Stella was there. She’ll be glad to answer all your questions, won’t you?” Before I could open my mouth, Aunt Lucy went on. “I’m taking Mr. Carpenter home to my house. You can call tomorrow and I’ll let you know if he’s up to speaking. In the meantime, good night!”
The two of them left me at the mercy of the dragon lady, without so much as a backward glance.
I turned back to her with a resigned sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”
Detective Poltrone smiled. “This could take quite some time,” she said.
“Dead bodies usually do,” I muttered.
“Dead bodies?” Poltrone blurted. “What dead bodies?”
I stared at her. Surely the two men in the car had died, hadn’t they?
“Nothing. I thought you were talking about a burned-out car. I just figured…”
Poltrone was waiting for me to stick my foot all the way down my throat, and I had been about to oblige her.
“Nothing. Now about this shooting. You see, it was a simple repossession gone wrong…”
I started talking and Detective Poltrone began writing in her slow, laborious scrawl. I knew without a doubt we’d be stuck like this for another hour, and then what did I have to look forward to? Jake Carpenter would be asleep, most certainly given my bed in the guest room, and I’d be the one sleeping on Uncle Benny’s old couch in the basement.
In reality, it was worse. Not only did I return home at dawn to catch a few hours of shut-eye in the dank basement, but I was also the one who got elected to carry trays up to the wounded warrior all day and wait on him hand and foot while my aunt glowered at me for being “unappreciative.”
“There’s plenty of room, Stella,” Jake whispered, patting the vacant side of the bed. “You don’t have to sleep in that cold, drafty basement. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” He patted his bandaged side gently and smiled up at me. “After all, you heard what the doc said, no strenuous physical activity.”
“Oh, yeah, like you would listen to someone else’s instructions,” I said. “I know you, Jake Carpenter. I wouldn’t be in this bed two seconds before you made a move.”
Jake smiled and gave me that look that made my stomach dive into a free fall. “Well,” he said, “it wouldn’t be strenuous physical activity if you were the one on top.”
I didn’t dignify that with an answer. I spun on my heel and tromped back down the stairs to the kitchen, planning my revenge on Jake Carpenter and then revising it to include more forms of slow torture.
My cousin, Nina, was waiting for me. She was sitting at the kitchen table, a deep frown furrowing lines across her forehead as she stared at a blank piece of white paper. When I slammed Jake’s tray down onto the countertop she jumped, her pen skidded and a long, jagged black line snaked its way across the clean, unblemished surface of the paper.
“See?” she cried. “That’s just what I was trying to tell you! If you don’t have a goal, your life lacks direction. You become just like the line on this paper.”
I looked around, thinking maybe she was talking to Spike and I hadn’t seen her.
