“No trouble at all,” I assured him.
“If I can ever return the favor—” he began.
“Actually,” I said, recalling the location of his condo, “I can think of one thing you could do for us.”
“Anything,” he said.
“My friend Sylvia could use a ride to the train station. I know it’s a few miles out of your way, but would you mind dropping her off?”
Brendan beamed. “It would be my pleasure.”
Vero scurried upstairs, all too eager to gather Mrs. Haggerty’s luggage.
“I don’t suppose you were following the news while you were gone?” I asked Brendan cautiously, wondering what other information Mrs. Haggerty had withheld from him.
“Not at all,” he said with a chuckle. “Internet was limited on the ship, and to be honest, I was just so relieved the charges against Maggie had been dropped, I did my best not to think about it. I did see that Gilford Dupree’s wife confessed to the murder. Maybe now that they have the culprit in custody, we can all put this terrible situation behind us and move on with our lives.”
I smiled, pressing my lips shut, letting him enjoy his few last moments of ignorant bliss.
Vero dumped Mrs. Haggerty’s luggage at Brendan’s feet.
“Ready to go, ladies?” he asked, offering his grandmother an arm. His eyes grew wide as she stood and stepped out from behind the table. He stared, openmouthed, at the glittering tracking bracelet around her ankle. Delia and Vero had bedazzled it with purple rhinestones to match the finish on her car, and it gleamed like a disco ball above her bright white orthopedic sneakers.
“This is Brendan, my grandson,” Mrs. Haggerty said to Sylvia.“He’s a politician,” she added proudly, making Brendan blush. “Brendan, this is Sylvia, my literary agent.”
Brendan’s eyes grew even wider. “Your… literary agent?”
“Sylvia is going to help me write a book,” Mrs. Haggerty announced.
I patted Brendan on the shoulder when the cat stole his tongue. “It seems you and your grandma have a little catching up to do. Oh,” I said as I handed him a business card. “I almost forgot. This is the phone number for your grandmother’s bail enforcement officer. I posted bond, so don’t let her miss her sentence hearing. The date is written on the back. I’ll let her fill you in on the details of her plea bargain. But don’t worry,” I said, gesturing to Mrs. Haggerty’s ankle monitor. “I was certain to let the court know she’d be staying with you for a while.”
“Just make sure she stays within three hundred feet of your condo or her alarm will go off,” Vero added.
Brendan’s sun-kissed cheeks turned a little green. Mrs. Haggerty took the handle of her suitcase and nudged Brendan toward the door, gesturing for him to carry Sylvia’s bag. Sylvia gave me a big, squishy hug. I suppose sharing her bra had graduated me from agent-client air-kisses to boob-mashing besties. Or maybe that title belonged to Mrs. Haggerty now. I wasn’t sure.
“Give Nick a kiss goodbye from me,” Sylvia said to me, “and tell him no hard feelings about the ride-along. We’ll do it next time. I’ll be back before you know it. Maggie agreed to draft her debut novel while she’s stuck on house arrest. I told her if she goes to prison, it’ll sell like hotcakes and she’ll have plenty of time to work on her memoir.” Brendan looked like he might be sick as he helped Sylvia into her faux fur stole. Sylvia wagged a finger at me on her way out the door. “Tell that hot cop of yours he’d better be good to you, or else.”
When they had all gone, Vero and I sagged against the wall.
It was over. Mrs. Haggerty was out of my house. The charges against Steven had been dropped. Mike Tran was (for now) off our backs. Delia was going back to school on Monday. Zach was (for the most part) potty-trained. And even after confiding (almost) everything to Nick, I was pretty sure we were going to be okay.
“Got any more of those brownies?” I asked Vero, ready to celebrate. Or sleep.
“I thought you’d never ask.” She shuffled to the freezer. Frowning, she moved the broccoli, then the peas. She turned and slammed the freezer door shut. “Someone stole my brownies!”
We both tipped our heads as the doorbell rang. I glanced back at the foyer, thinking maybe Mrs. Haggerty had forgotten something, but all the luggage was gone.
“Maybe it’s Javi,” I suggested.
“Or Nick.”
Vero and I went to answer the door together.
Two uniformed police officers stood on the porch.
“Sorry,” Vero said, “if you’re looking for Margaret Haggerty, you just missed her. She went home with her—”
One of the officers held out an envelope. “Veronica Ramirez?”
