“Sure. I’ll watch my favorite nephew.” She tweaks a tiny nose and my little man giggles. “But I’ll have to bring him with me to the salon. Is that okay?”
“Sure. He loves to be ogled by blue-haired ladies.” I balance a plastic container of Aunt Marion’s sauce on top of one with cooked macaroni, then place them on the countertop.
“He’s his father’s son, for sure.” As she tousles his dark curls, Catrina pukes a hairball and while I’m cleaning up her icky mess, the phone rings.
I glance at the caller ID and warn them. “It’s my mom.”
“Good luck.” Rose rolls her eyes, grabs the bottle, and walks Joey down the inner stairs.
These conversations are always painful, and I don’t blame them for leaving, but did they have to take my wine?
Remembering my vow, I put my phone on mute, and shout downstairs. “I’ve started a Cold Turkey Diet.”
“Yikes. You sure?” Her head pops back up and I nod.
“While I’m gone, will you empty my pantry?”
She runs up, gives me a hug, then races back. “I’ll ask everyone to pray to Saint Jude.”
The patron saint of lost causes? On second thought, she’s probably right. Her sister got the skinny genes. Me and Rose’s metabolism have the magic ability to suck fat from thin air. As God is my witness, I once walked past Petey’s Pizzeria and gained two pounds.
“Samantha, what do you think?” Oh shit, my mom’s been talking nonstop, and I haven’t heard a word she’s said.
“I’m, uh… I’m not sure.” When in doubt, punt.
“Well, she’s waiting to hear from you. She needs a maid of honor. Soon.”
“Umm, I can’t take on anything more right now. Suds and I have a new client and I may be out of town a lot.” It’s nice not to have to lie. “She has dozens of other cousins to choose from.”
My mother clucks her tongue and I brace.Wait for it…
“If you went back to working for the FBI, you’d have regular hours.” My mom is nothing if not persistent.
“They firedme. Besides, I like being my own boss.”Why in the world would I want to take a step back?
“You have a son to think about, now. A private investigator is not a smart career choice for a mother. Take your cousin Mary-Anne, for example, she has every summer off-”
“She’s a grade-school teacher.” I love little kids but shudder at the thought of having a roomful of them every day.
“Just think about it. Your father-”
“Okay. Gotta go, dinner is boiling over.”
Mikey stops fussing and grins at me when I place his plastic yellow pasta bowl in his tray. I’m sure some will reach his mouth, especially if I help.
Hungry, I pour some sauce into a similar dish, skip the elbows, and add a meatball.
While we eat, I check ‘Suds and Sam’s’ other cases. The missing turtle, I’m afraid, bit the dust. The forty-year-old unsolved murder turned out to be a woman who ran away from her abusive husband. A stolen purse from bingo night turned up in the church’s lost-and-found with sixteen dollars and thirty-two cents left untouched.
With these nefarious cases solved, I’m free to pursue the missing teen but first, I should bathe Mikey, covered in red gravy. We play for a while, I read him a book, and he zonks out, no doubt tired from playing hard with his Uncle Joey.
Ignoring Ben and Jerry calling to me from my freezer, I log back on, open Jason’s email, and click on the links. First, there’s Chrissy’s Facebook page. Her last image, taken at the University of Buffalo, was posted a week ago. In it, she drinks a beer with her arm around a fraternity brother.
No other alarms trigger until I reach the final URL in the list. My jaw drops at her pictured in white lingerie on a sex-for-hire site. Upon further research, I learn it’s hosted by UB’s chess club.
Someone should tell them, security by obscurity doesn’t work, especially if you have artificial intelligence researching a missing girl.
Wanting to keep Suds in the loop I call, and Selena picks up his phone. “Hello?”
