Escape Route (Murder Off-Screen Book 1) by GA VanDruff Page A

keep him in high demand. ‘Have enough casseroles frozen to feed the flocks through Armageddon,’ he’s not shy to say. ‘Got to keep a lot of ladies happy. Like spinning plates on those sticks in the circus. Don’t want to let any of them down.’
    “I am at Gertie’s. I’ll send your regards.”
    “Regards! Bring that bee-uuu-tee-ful gal with you when you come.”
    I didn’t know how Al the Goiter would take to the competition. Goiter versus Redford is a no-brainer. “She’s got guests at the Inn—”
    “Tell her to kick ‘em out.”
    “Say, Dell, is Ed there?” I hoped he’d remembered to show up. I hoped Dianne hadn’t gone into labor. I hoped Uncle Frank had not rendered him unconscious.
    “Sure is. I can hear Frank cussing from here. Hang on.”
    Dell set me on the counter as he went in search of my ex-husband. I used to do that a lot—go in search of my ex-husband, but Dell would have better results. I put my phone down and set it to Speaker so I could take another stab at getting Abbott’s patch neatly back in place. The corduroy oval underneath was nappier and shades brighter than the rest of the jacket, which now had a fine layer of Doofus hair covering it.
    A half-wood, half-glass door separated the mudroom from the kitchen, but I’d left a crack open for a narrow view of the kitchen table. It was a festival of purple. She beat the plastic lilacs against her thigh and a cloud of dust mushroomed out of the blooms. She speared the green, metal stems into a tall, white vase and set the arrangement on a pink, lace doily centered between the white Corelle dishes.
    Cinnamon buns warmed in the oven. Spurts of dark coffee burped in the last documented percolator on planet earth. Slabs of bacon spit grease out of the cast iron pan. Sunny-sides would go in last with a happy face of hot sauce in the yolk. Each slice of French toast was the size of a Subway special, and would soon meet their fate in a tsunami of real maple syrup. ‘Not the brown glue they pass off, nowadays.’
    Ed picked up. “Hey, Jaqs. FYI—your uncle’s trying to kill me.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s put our divorce way, way behind him.”
    “Yeah, well, he tossed me an anchor while I was straddling the boat and the dock.”
    “See? Pranks. He only plays pranks with people he loves.”
    “Jaqs, it was an anchor .”
    “Anyway, Ed, I need a favor. Like right now.”
    “You got it. Get me out of here. I’d like to cash that check before I die. This favor is off-site, right?”
    The floorboards creaked overhead. “Maybe. Listen, I need for a car not to run. How can I make that happen.”
    “Dynamite?”
    “Too showy.”
    “The Garrett brothers?”
    “Still in jail.”
    “Houdini?”
    “Come on, Ed. This is serious. I have to stop a couple of guys from leaving Gertie’s for the next twenty-four hours. Can you help me out or not?”
    “It’s not the good old days when you could just pop off a distributor cap,” Ed reminisced. “I can come and flatten the tires. My dad gave me a Bowie knife last birthday, and I’ve been wanting to try it out. Four slashed tires would keep them in one spot, for sure. Call my brother at Dings. He’ll make it a real nightmare for them with the paperwork.”
    And rental car paperwork, on top of that. “No. Put your knife away. I don’t want you hanging out in the yard with the Garrett brothers.”
    “Uh oh, here comes Grim Frank Reaper, gotta go. Jaqs, get the keys. Steal the car.
    Duh.

CHAPTER 13
     
     
    “Is it dead, Daddy? Is it?” The boy poked at the dog again.
    The man squatted down. “Nah. Might be sick or wore out.” He inspected the hubcap that someone had left as a water dish. “Thirsty and hungry.” He shook the dog. “Dumped him here, by the looks of things. No collar.”
    King opened one eye. He didn’t feel like himself, and it took a second for him to understand that what he was seeing was real and not in the dream. He could smell clear enough that