"—but I don't think I can convince Tim to trust anyone right now. And honestly, I shouldn't even be talking to you about it, but I just can't keep it in anymore. Tim refuses to discuss it and his mom just doesn't want to think about it. I feel like I'm going crazy, not being able to talk about it. You're the only one I can trust with this, Nina. I know you can keep a secret." She leaned in. "You will keep this secret, right?"
"Of course. But you really need the police involved, Bridget. Mrs. Sandowski, Tim even, could be in danger."
"I'm well aware of that, but with the attitude of the cops we don't know what to do. We thought about hiring a private investigator, but Tim and his mom are wary, and frankly, we don't have enough money for a long, drawn-out investigation."
My mind skipped to my bank account and realized I didn't 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 taken the money.
Bridget climbed out of her Jeep. After closing the door of my truck, I made sure Kevin got a good view of my face. I almost laughed as I imagined his mouth agape in shock.
Aside from my wanting to help the Sandowskis—and I did, don't get me wrong—I had to admit I was going to enjoy sticking my nose into Kevin's investigation. My interference was going to make Kevin's hair stand on end. Not quite the punishment I was aiming for—unless he was attached to the electric chair—but it would do. For now.
Farmer Joe's meticulous landscaping had been allowed to run wild, with overgrown flower beds chock full of weeds and his shaped hedges growing every which way.
Weeds choked the cracked brick pathway leading up to the door. The designer in me already had ideas to transform the yard back to what it used to be.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I needed to remember why I was here.
Taking hold of the door handle, Bridget jumped back in surprise as the screen door fell off its frame, landed with a soft
whoosh
in one of the overgrown Japanese yews that flanked the steps.
At closer inspection, I realized the house itself was quite beautiful. Run-down but beautiful. A classic Federal style and shape: a white brick square box with symmetrical lines and incredible detail on the paneled doors and moldings. It was too bad it was in such disrepair.
"You okay?"
Shakily, she nodded. "Nina, I really don't think this is a good idea."
I offered a reassuring smile. "So I've heard."
Sighing, she knocked once, entered.
Before stepping over the threshold, I turned to face the street, blew Kevin a kiss.
The scent of baking bread filled the air, and my stomach rumbled to life. Mrs. Sandowski's homemade bread was heaven on earth.
It took a moment for me to adjust from the sun to the dim lighting. Colored spots danced in front of my eyes.
Bridget cleared her throat. "Mom?"
I smiled. Bridget had started calling Mrs. Sandowski "Mom" long before she and Tim married. My eyesight slowly adjusted. The living room, where we were standing, was spotless. I doubted there was a speck of dust on any piece of furniture, and certainly no trace of soot in the large stone fireplace. I checked the soles of my Keds to make sure they were clean.
"Mom?" Bridget called out, slightly louder than before. Under her breath, she muttered, "Man, it's hot in here."
Hot was an understatement. Even with the windows open and a prehistoric ceiling fan droning above, hell had nothing on this place.
"I'm back here," Mrs. Sandowski yelled from the kitchen.
I followed Bridget down a short hallway into the sun
filled kitchen. I felt my breath catch as memories assailed me. I had spent many a happy hour in this kitchen, back when I had thought my own family was just too weird to be associated with. Oh, the wallpaper had faded and the linoleum had cracked, but it was as though I had just stepped back in time. The only thing different was the gallons and gallons of jug water bottles stacked against the rear wall.
Mrs. Sandowski sat at a pea green kitchen table, shucking corn, a window fan providing her little relief from the intense heat. She looked older, now with more gray than brown hair, but her eyes were the same. Sparkling hazel. Keen. Piercing. Alert. They narrowed as she looked at me.
"I'll be darned. Nina Ceceri! Is that you?"
She jumped up, moving much quicker than I would have thought she could. She had to be at least seventy.
Before I knew it I was engulfed in a big hug. She smelled of baking bread and Ivory soap. I smiled as she pulled away. "It's Nina Quinn now."
"Yes, yes, that's right." She waved to her head. "I'm old. The memory goes." The twinkle in her eye told me she was teasing.
"Nonsense."
She smiled. "My oh my, you're a sight for these old eyes."
"You look wonderful, Mrs. Sandowski."
She patted her hair, then slid her hands down her still slim figure. "Well, you know, I try."
My voice shook slightly as I said, "I'm so very sorry about Joe."
Her smile faltered. "So am I, Nina. So am I. But he's at peace now. I have to keep reminding myself of that." Clapping her hands, she said, "No melancholy today. I'm too happy to see you after all this time." She turned to Bridget, tsked lovingly. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing Nina? I would've set out lunch, or tea, or something."
"I didn't know. It just sort of came up. And actually, I can't stay all that long." She lowered herself into a chair, stretched out her long legs, rested her hands on her belly. Dark circles under her eyes were beginning to glow beneath her translucent skin. "I have an appointment in an hour."
"You should be resting, honey," Mrs. Sandowski said, rubbing a hand over Bridget's hair. "It's not good for the baby, you working so hard."
With great effort, Bridget shifted. "We're fine. Really, we are. You know I wouldn't take any risks."
Mrs. Sandowski clucked. "I know. I just hate seeing you working yourself to the bone."
Strands of pale blonde hair fell forward onto Bridget's face. She pushed them back behind her ears. "I hope you don't mind us stopping in."
"Not at all, honey." To me, she said, "Sit, sit." She pulled out a chair for me. "Catch me up with you. You're in landscaping now, right?"
I smiled, thinking about Taken by Surprise until I remembered those damn hoes. "It's not your traditional landscape company."
Her wrinkled face puckered. "Oh?"
"It started that way until a client offered me an absurd amount of money to be done with her job in a day. She wanted to surprise her husband while he was out of town."
"And you did it?"
"Do I look like someone who'd turn down an absurd amount of money?" I laughed before I realized who I was speaking to—someone who
had
turned down an absurd amount of money.
My discomfort eased, though, as Mrs. Sandowski laughed.
I pressed on, talking fast to cover my nervousness. "I realized there was a whole market out there for garden makeovers. One client became two, then three. A local paper did a story on us, then the local news, and now I have to turn people away."
"Do you enjoy it?"
"I love it. I try to do as much hands-on as I can, but between consultation and design meetings, it's tough."
"Joe always loved puttering around those gardens out there with you."
"I loved it too."
She tsked. "He hated that he couldn't take care of the garden once he became ill."
A thick lump of sorrow lodged in my throat. It was hard to talk around it. "I wish I had known. I'd have been glad to help out. Actually, I'd still like to help. Maybe get things back to the way they were. Make Joe proud."
Bridget sniffled.
Mrs. Sandowski's eyes filled with tears. "I'd really like that," she said.
"So would I."
We sat in silence for a long minute before she picked up another ear of corn. She smiled at us. "So what brings you here? A trip down memory lane?"
"Uh," I stammered, looking at Bridget. "Not quite."
Bridget stiffened. "How's Jumper?"
Mrs. Sandowski's smile faltered. "Better," she said warily. "Doc said he'd be home in a few days."
Bridget cleared her throat. "That's why Nina's here, Mom."
Hazel eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Tell me you did not tell her about this."
I felt her anger as much as saw it and was glad that I wasn't at the receiving end. Still, I felt guilty for having caused such feelings in the first place.
"Nina wants to help. And we need help. You and I both know it."
She shook her head. "We can do this on our own. You shouldn't have involved Nina in this. It's none of her concern."
Bridget paled.
I leaned forward, trying not to feel hurt that Mrs. Sandowski didn't want me around. "It was my idea, Mrs. Sandowski. Don't be angry with Bridget."
Mrs. Sandowski picked up an ear of corn and ripped it open, revealing a golden yellow cob. Honestly, how could she continue to work in the stifling heat?
As sweat trickled down my hairline, I said, "I know that you didn't want any outsiders helping, but you're in over your head. What happened with Jumper this morning proves it."
"No offense, Nina, but it's private."
Bridget flashed me an I-told-you-so look, then slowly wobbled to her feet. "I'm going to head out now and let the two of you hash this out."
Bridget promised she'd check in with me soon, despite having to prepare for an upcoming trial, and gave me her business card with all her numbers on it. She mentioned something about dinner Friday night with her and Tim as she kissed my cheek, then Mrs. Sandowski's. Teetering toward the door, she said over her shoulder, "Don't say I didn't warn you."
A moment later, the front door opened then closed and an engine sputtered to life.