Whiskey’s Gone (A Fina Fitzgibbons Brooklyn Mystery Book 3) by Susan Russo Anderson Page A
Authors: Susan Russo Anderson
Ads: Link
that.”
“Then how do you explain she’s not back yet? She’s gone. Mom left, and it’s all my fault. I didn’t mean it. It’s just that I wanted to read.” Maddie’s tears started.
Cookie looked down at her lap, about to lose it.
Our rescue came from an unlikely source. Robert, the guy with his head up the tight butt of the 1950s, the guy who can’t stand his precious son dating the likes of me, that Robert walked into the room.
“Get a grip, kid,” he said. “We’ve talked about this over and over. You can’t explain why adults do what they do, you know that. Take me, for instance.” He made a face that involved crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue, stretching his already big mouth way out of proportion so he looked like Clarabelle the clown.
“Robert!” Maddie ran to him. “What took you so long? You should be ashamed, leaving me all this time with them. And where’s my fudge?”
“Don’t let these old biddies bully you. And as for the no-hair deal, look on the bright side, you crazy dunder fluffer, you’ll never have to shave your legs or worry about granny hairs on your chinny-chin-chin. Where’s your war paint? Didn’t you put it on this morning?”
“Too tired. And I missed Mom. Where is she? Why hasn’t she come home?”
“I don’t know, kid, and that’s the honest truth. If I knew where she was, I’d be the first to say. But we’re looking for her, that’s why she’s here,” he said, pointing to me. “And Lorraine’s helping her and Cookie too, which is a good thing, because that demented redhead over there”—he flapped an arm at me—“needs all the help she can get.”
Maddie grinned. “They were asking me questions.”
“So tell them what you know and no fibbing, but remember, don’t think for one minute you know why grown-ups do what they do.”
Maddie shut her eyes. While she worked her head up and down, a few tears broke loose and rode down her red cheeks. She swallowed and hugged a pillow. “Okay, so to answer your question about when I went to bed Monday night, I don’t know for sure what time it was. Right now Mom and me sleep in the same room until we strike it rich and can afford a bigger place. I think my final goodnight kiss was real late because Mom said, ‘You’ve done it again, Maddie, dawdled until midnight.’”
“So there. More questions for the kid?” Robert asked.
I shook my head. “Oh, wait a minute, one more.”
Robert slapped a hand to his forehead and Lorraine flattened her lips.
“Did you hear any strange noises in the middle of the night?” Cookie asked.
“What kind of a question is that?” Robert asked.
Maddie shook her head. “When I woke up, Mom wasn’t there. Her bed was rumpled, her robe on top of the dresser.”
“I didn’t see her robe there,” I said.
Maddie’s face crumpled, and I slammed a fist into my side. Why did I need to be such a niggling ass?
“Because I hung it up in the morning when she wasn’t there.”
“That’s it. No more questions.” Robert stretched out his arm toward Maddie. “But you’re slacking off with the paint, kid. C’mon, we got work to do. Your uncle’s on the way, and we don’t want him to see your head naked as a jaybird, do we?”
There seemed to be a vacuum sucking up all the air in the room after Maddie left. I looked at Cookie.
“Remind me and Clancy never to have kids unless they turn out to be like that little girl.” She lowered her head and stowed her mirror.
I fingered Whiskey’s journal, wondering if I could excuse myself and get the hatbox full of old volumes from her closet. I needed to wrap my head around her soul, at least pick up some of her droppings, Jane Templeton’s don’t-touch-anything dictum be damned. I said something about the hatbox to Lorraine and she insisted on getting it herself, saying she’d be back in a few minutes.
After calling Trisha Liam to give her an update and listening to her rant about what was taking me
“Then how do you explain she’s not back yet? She’s gone. Mom left, and it’s all my fault. I didn’t mean it. It’s just that I wanted to read.” Maddie’s tears started.
Cookie looked down at her lap, about to lose it.
Our rescue came from an unlikely source. Robert, the guy with his head up the tight butt of the 1950s, the guy who can’t stand his precious son dating the likes of me, that Robert walked into the room.
“Get a grip, kid,” he said. “We’ve talked about this over and over. You can’t explain why adults do what they do, you know that. Take me, for instance.” He made a face that involved crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue, stretching his already big mouth way out of proportion so he looked like Clarabelle the clown.
“Robert!” Maddie ran to him. “What took you so long? You should be ashamed, leaving me all this time with them. And where’s my fudge?”
“Don’t let these old biddies bully you. And as for the no-hair deal, look on the bright side, you crazy dunder fluffer, you’ll never have to shave your legs or worry about granny hairs on your chinny-chin-chin. Where’s your war paint? Didn’t you put it on this morning?”
“Too tired. And I missed Mom. Where is she? Why hasn’t she come home?”
“I don’t know, kid, and that’s the honest truth. If I knew where she was, I’d be the first to say. But we’re looking for her, that’s why she’s here,” he said, pointing to me. “And Lorraine’s helping her and Cookie too, which is a good thing, because that demented redhead over there”—he flapped an arm at me—“needs all the help she can get.”
Maddie grinned. “They were asking me questions.”
“So tell them what you know and no fibbing, but remember, don’t think for one minute you know why grown-ups do what they do.”
Maddie shut her eyes. While she worked her head up and down, a few tears broke loose and rode down her red cheeks. She swallowed and hugged a pillow. “Okay, so to answer your question about when I went to bed Monday night, I don’t know for sure what time it was. Right now Mom and me sleep in the same room until we strike it rich and can afford a bigger place. I think my final goodnight kiss was real late because Mom said, ‘You’ve done it again, Maddie, dawdled until midnight.’”
“So there. More questions for the kid?” Robert asked.
I shook my head. “Oh, wait a minute, one more.”
Robert slapped a hand to his forehead and Lorraine flattened her lips.
“Did you hear any strange noises in the middle of the night?” Cookie asked.
“What kind of a question is that?” Robert asked.
Maddie shook her head. “When I woke up, Mom wasn’t there. Her bed was rumpled, her robe on top of the dresser.”
“I didn’t see her robe there,” I said.
Maddie’s face crumpled, and I slammed a fist into my side. Why did I need to be such a niggling ass?
“Because I hung it up in the morning when she wasn’t there.”
“That’s it. No more questions.” Robert stretched out his arm toward Maddie. “But you’re slacking off with the paint, kid. C’mon, we got work to do. Your uncle’s on the way, and we don’t want him to see your head naked as a jaybird, do we?”
There seemed to be a vacuum sucking up all the air in the room after Maddie left. I looked at Cookie.
“Remind me and Clancy never to have kids unless they turn out to be like that little girl.” She lowered her head and stowed her mirror.
I fingered Whiskey’s journal, wondering if I could excuse myself and get the hatbox full of old volumes from her closet. I needed to wrap my head around her soul, at least pick up some of her droppings, Jane Templeton’s don’t-touch-anything dictum be damned. I said something about the hatbox to Lorraine and she insisted on getting it herself, saying she’d be back in a few minutes.
After calling Trisha Liam to give her an update and listening to her rant about what was taking me
Similar Books
