have enough to float a decent-sized loan. Most of my money was tied up in Taken by Surprise. But surely there had to be some way.
I opened my mouth to say so, and couldn't believe what I heard come out. "Let me look into it."
Her mouth widened in a dramatic O as her face drained of color. "What? No—"
I held up a hand to cut her off. "Tim and Mrs. Sandowski know me, know they can trust me. With my business as a cover, I can nose into things without being obvious. Not to mention my close connection to the investigation through Kevin." Who was this person talking? I was too hyped up to linger on the fact that Kevin and I weren't exactly on speaking terms.
Bridget's knuckles had gone white, her fists were clenched so tightly. "I don't know." Her hair swooshed as she shook her head. "No. Absolutely no."
"Just let me try. We need to find out who's doing this, before someone takes potshots at you, too."
"I can't let you take on that responsibility!"
"I'll be careful. And if I get in over my head, I'll back out and take out a loan if I have to, so a PI can be hired."
Tears filled her eyes. "I really don't want you to get involved, Nina. It's dangerous."
I reached out and clasped her hand. "I am involved."
She sighed. "I don't know . . ."
"Just let me talk to Tim's mom. Let her decide."
Resigned, she said, "I'll let you talk to her. That's all I can promise, but I can almost guarantee she'll say no."
"It's worth a shot." I looked over at Gertie. Still flirting. I sighed. "Should we go now?"
Bridget didn't look all that gung ho. "I suppose."
I tossed a five-dollar bill on the table to cover the cost of the OJ and helped lever Bridget to her feet.
"It's going to be okay, Bridget," I said as she laid a hand on the table to steady herself. Once again I was amazed at the changes her pregnancy had brought on.
She shook her head, waddled ahead of me. "I don't have a good feeling about this. Not at all."
Five
I followed Bridget as we took the side roads to Sandowski's Farm, avoiding Vista View altogether.
At a four-way stop, I examined a ragged fingernail, picked its jagged edges. I wanted to turn around, go home. I had no business whatsoever looking into a murder. I was in way over my head, knew it, and yet still felt compelled to help. What was it with me?
I lost sight of Bridget's late-model Jeep for a moment as I crested a hill. Not that it mattered. I knew where the farm was, had been there many, many times during my teen years, when I used to tag along after Bridget and Tim because I had nothing better to do and no one else to do it with.
I slowed for a yellow light at the corner of Millson and Liberty. Up ahead, behind the do-it-yourself car wash, I could see the roofline of Sandowski's Farm.
Stores crowded each corner of the intersection. A supermarket, a pharmacy, a Mickey D's, and a gas station. My eyes swept it all in, remembering it as it was ten, fifteen years ago, when there was nothing here but open fields, wandering cows, and an endless blue sky.
As I passed the gas station, I did a double take. I caught the profiles of Kevin and Ginger sitting in the gas station's parking lot, the nose of their unmarked pointed in the direction of Sandowski's Farm. Clearly they were doing a little surveillance. I'd have paid to see Kevin's face when he realized just who Mrs. Sandowski's visitor was.
Gravel spit under my tires as I turned into the driveway, rolled to a stop. Though I must've passed this way a thousand times, I hadn't taken a good look at the place in years. Gone was the freshly painted picturesque farmhouse I remembered. Weeds choked the yard, the walkway. Bushy shrub branches thrust here, there, everywhere. Bricks were missing from the steps leading up to the door and the screen door hung by only one hinge. Clearly the Sandowskis had fallen on hard times in the last few years.
I imagined a couple million would come in handy for the family right about now. It went beyond my reasoning why they hadn't
I opened my mouth to say so, and couldn't believe what I heard come out. "Let me look into it."
Her mouth widened in a dramatic O as her face drained of color. "What? No—"
I held up a hand to cut her off. "Tim and Mrs. Sandowski know me, know they can trust me. With my business as a cover, I can nose into things without being obvious. Not to mention my close connection to the investigation through Kevin." Who was this person talking? I was too hyped up to linger on the fact that Kevin and I weren't exactly on speaking terms.
Bridget's knuckles had gone white, her fists were clenched so tightly. "I don't know." Her hair swooshed as she shook her head. "No. Absolutely no."
"Just let me try. We need to find out who's doing this, before someone takes potshots at you, too."
"I can't let you take on that responsibility!"
"I'll be careful. And if I get in over my head, I'll back out and take out a loan if I have to, so a PI can be hired."
Tears filled her eyes. "I really don't want you to get involved, Nina. It's dangerous."
I reached out and clasped her hand. "I am involved."
She sighed. "I don't know . . ."
"Just let me talk to Tim's mom. Let her decide."
Resigned, she said, "I'll let you talk to her. That's all I can promise, but I can almost guarantee she'll say no."
"It's worth a shot." I looked over at Gertie. Still flirting. I sighed. "Should we go now?"
Bridget didn't look all that gung ho. "I suppose."
I tossed a five-dollar bill on the table to cover the cost of the OJ and helped lever Bridget to her feet.
"It's going to be okay, Bridget," I said as she laid a hand on the table to steady herself. Once again I was amazed at the changes her pregnancy had brought on.
She shook her head, waddled ahead of me. "I don't have a good feeling about this. Not at all."
Five
I followed Bridget as we took the side roads to Sandowski's Farm, avoiding Vista View altogether.
At a four-way stop, I examined a ragged fingernail, picked its jagged edges. I wanted to turn around, go home. I had no business whatsoever looking into a murder. I was in way over my head, knew it, and yet still felt compelled to help. What was it with me?
I lost sight of Bridget's late-model Jeep for a moment as I crested a hill. Not that it mattered. I knew where the farm was, had been there many, many times during my teen years, when I used to tag along after Bridget and Tim because I had nothing better to do and no one else to do it with.
I slowed for a yellow light at the corner of Millson and Liberty. Up ahead, behind the do-it-yourself car wash, I could see the roofline of Sandowski's Farm.
Stores crowded each corner of the intersection. A supermarket, a pharmacy, a Mickey D's, and a gas station. My eyes swept it all in, remembering it as it was ten, fifteen years ago, when there was nothing here but open fields, wandering cows, and an endless blue sky.
As I passed the gas station, I did a double take. I caught the profiles of Kevin and Ginger sitting in the gas station's parking lot, the nose of their unmarked pointed in the direction of Sandowski's Farm. Clearly they were doing a little surveillance. I'd have paid to see Kevin's face when he realized just who Mrs. Sandowski's visitor was.
Gravel spit under my tires as I turned into the driveway, rolled to a stop. Though I must've passed this way a thousand times, I hadn't taken a good look at the place in years. Gone was the freshly painted picturesque farmhouse I remembered. Weeds choked the yard, the walkway. Bushy shrub branches thrust here, there, everywhere. Bricks were missing from the steps leading up to the door and the screen door hung by only one hinge. Clearly the Sandowskis had fallen on hard times in the last few years.
I imagined a couple million would come in handy for the family right about now. It went beyond my reasoning why they hadn't
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