Last Straw (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 7) Read online

  I made a concerted effort to switch gears. “Something smells good,” I said.

  Connor shifted his attention from the large pot on the stove. “Tacos,” he told me. “I had a cooking class last weekend, international cuisine, and figured I’d try out some of the recipes on you guys this week.”

  I was used to having ham and au gratin potatoes for Christmas dinner, but I just shrugged and smiled. I liked tacos, too.

  Connor stirred the contents of the pot. The smell of onions and garlic was unmistakable.

  “It smells good,” Luke said.

  Connor nodded. “It’s a fantastic recipe. Super simple, too. The key is to let the meat really simmer in the seasonings. It’s going to need another few hours, but it should be ready by dinner.”

  Luke stood up and wandered over to the stove to investigate.

  “Dude,” he said, peering into the pot. “What is that? It looks like a big, flat sausage.”

  “Lengua,” Connor told him. “It’s a Hispanic food delicacy.”

  “Lengua?” Luke repeated. His face lost a little bit of color. “Uh, I don’t eat that.”

  I crossed the kitchen and checked out the contents of the pot. A massive piece of flesh was simmering in water chock full of onions and garlic.

  “What is that?” I asked, repeating Luke’s question. “What is lengua?”

  “It’s Spanish for tongue,” Connor informed me.

  “Tongue?” I stuck my own tongue out and pointed. “Like this?”

  Connor nodded. “Beef tongue.”

  I grimaced, but Connor held his hand up. “Wait, don’t pass judgment yet. It’s a delicacy in Hispanic food.”

  “Yeah, sort of like frog legs and tuna eyeballs,” Luke said with disgust. “I eat at taco shops all the time back home and that is one thing I steer clear of.”

  Connor raised his eyebrows. “You really shouldn’t judge a food until you’ve tried it. Frog legs are delicious.” He turned to me, probably in the hopes that I would be a little more open-minded. “The meat is really tender and flavorful. The only hard part is removing the skin after it’s cooked.” He poked the pale white appendage floating in the pot. “It needs to be cut off, and then there’s this part on the bottom that is sort of like a muscle. Well, the whole thing is a muscle, really—that’s why it’s so flavorful—but this small piece on the bottom is kind of chewy if you eat it. Some people really enjoy that part, so I may leave it on. I don’t know yet. This is all sort of new for me.”

  I was feeling a little queasy during Connor’s monologue about the finer points of preparing and eating beef tongue, and Luke looked as though he was close to passing out.

  Connor must have noticed the expression on my face. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “Yep, just fine,” I said brightly. I averted my eyes from the organ boiling in the pot and decided I’d better start formulating a story now as to why I wasn’t going to be eating dinner.

  “I…I have some presents to finish wrapping,” I said. My first priority was simply to get out of the kitchen. “I better get to that.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Luke said quickly, making a beeline for the hallway.

  Once safely out of the room where the animal organ was boiling, his shoulders dropped and he sighed. “Does he always make weird crap?”

  I chuckled. Now that I wasn’t staring at a cow tongue, I was feeling a little better. “He wanted to make acorn bread for Thanksgiving.”

  “Acorn what?”

  “Bread. He was all set to go hunt for acorns and grind them into flour. But first you have to bake them in the oven to kill all the maggots.”

  Luke’s eyebrows shot to his hairline and he covered his mouth. “That is disgusting.”

  “He ran out of time. Thank god.”

  I opened the hall closet and pulled out the box with the journal for Laura that the UPS man had delivered, along with wrapping supplies I’d stored in a bin. It made sense to take it upstairs, just in case Laura popped out of the kitchen, but I was loath to leave Luke. It was already registering that I had precious few days left with him before he shuttled back to his life in California, and I didn’t want to waste another minute. I’d already lost enough of them.

  I bit back a sigh. Once again, it felt as though my priorities had been in the wrong place. I’d gone into town to run a couple of errands, errands related to my kids and the holiday we were spending together, and I’d gotten completely sidetracked chasing after potential clues in a case I wasn’t even supposed to be working on.

  “What’s on your mind?” Luke asked. He’d taken up a spot on the couch and draped his lanky frame across the length of it.

  Was it that obvious? I sighed again. If Luke could see it, then I wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding anything.

  “Are you still thinking about the guitar pick?” he asked. A look of worry crossed his face. “Do you not believe me? Do you really think I had something to do with those drugs?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. I set the box and wrapping paper down on the floor and sank to the ground.

  “Because I didn’t,” he said. “I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

  “I believe you,” I said. I hesitated. “But I have a question for you. Something else that has been bothering me.”

  He waited.

  “When I came over that day…I overheard part of your phone conversation.” I could remember his side of the conversation with perfect clarity. He’d worried about something being legal, and had told someone he would do whatever was needed.

  He flinched.

  “Who were you talking to? And what were you talking about?”

  He was quiet for a minute. “There’s this place in Charlottesville that we want to play,” he finally said. “A great little club that has launched some pretty big indie bands. One of the bouncers is a cousin of Dylan’s, our drummer. He told me he could get us on the bill, but he wanted something in return.”

  I waited, trying not to anticipate the worst. “And what was that?”

  He looked a little sheepish. “A gun.”

  “A what?!”

  “He’s on some list that prevents him from getting one, and—”

  “Oh my god, Luke.” I wondered if my eyes looked as huge as they felt bulging in my sockets. “You can’t buy him a gun!”

  “He just wants it for hunting,” he said, a little defensively.

  “It doesn’t matter why he wants it,” I exclaimed. “If he’s not supposed to have one, you don’t get him one!”

  He closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “It’s just…this gig is really important to me. To the band.”

  “I get that,” I said. “But you don’t want to do something illegal. Not for him and not for anyone else.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Please tell me you’re not going to do it.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “I was already feeling weird about the whole thing. I’m sorry.”

  My heart was racing, and even his assurance and apology wasn’t helping to calm it down.

  I took a deep breath. He sounded sincere. I tried to refocus on the gift I was wrapping, willing myself to not drag the conversation on. He’d apologized, I’d said my piece, and there was nothing more I could do. Well, I could try to ground him or take away his phone, but I wasn’t sure how effective that would be.

  “And I’m sorry I didn’t know what the house looked like,” he added.

  I used the scissors to cut through the packing tape on the box, and tried not to notice my hand was shaking slightly. “You don’t need to apologize. Not for that, at least.”

  “Actually, I do. I should have paid attention. You made this huge move, this huge decision, all by yourself, and you tried to involve me in the process. And I didn’t really pay attention.”

  “You have your own life, Luke. And just because you didn’t look at the house listing doesn’t mean you weren’t paying attention. That was al
most a year ago, and besides, you probably didn’t think I was actually going to go through with it. Probably thought it was just another one of your mom’s harebrained ideas.”

  Sort of like his own crazy gun-buying one.

  He smiled. “Well, maybe a little. But still, I should have listened. Or looked, in this case.”

  “It’s fine.” I looked at the planner still nestled in the shipping box and then unrolled the wrapping paper, red with gold stars, eyeballing the amount I’d need. “Water under the bridge.”

  “But if I’d looked, none of this would have happened.”

  “None of what? The drugs would have still been in Gunnar’s barn,” I pointed out. “And you would have still contemplated buying a gun for a criminal.”

  He frowned. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about Gunnar. If I’d looked at the photos, I would have gone to the right house in the first place and you wouldn’t be suspecting me of being involved.”

  I cut through the paper, using the grid printed on the back to guide me. “I don’t,” I told him, and I meant it.

  I positioned the planner in the middle of the wrapping paper.

  “So who do you think is involved?” Luke asked. “Do you think it really belongs to your neighbor?”

  I didn’t answer right away, and focused instead on securing the tape and folding in the edges of the gift.

  I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to share with Luke.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I sounded evasive even to my own ears.

  “And what about the lady I saw?” Luke was clearly anxious to talk about it. Maybe this was to keep me off the gun-buying topic. “Have you made any headway in identifying her?”

  I had decided pretty early on that the woman he saw was probably Lucy, and for a moment that afternoon, I’d been convinced she was responsible for the whole incident. But so far the evidence was far from conclusive.

  “Not really,” I said instead.

  I didn’t think he was done asking questions, but a knock at the door silenced him. I picked up the wrapped present and got to my feet, intending to drop it off under the tree and find out who was on my doorstep.

  “Jill,” I said, not bothering to hide my surprise.

  She gave me a timid smile.

  I motioned her inside. “What’s up?” I wondered if she needed more eggs. Or sugar. Or a cow tongue. I’d gladly give her that.

  “I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” she said. “Dad said I was rude to you at the ice cream place, and I didn’t mean to be.”

  I tried not to frown. She’d asked what I was doing there and then promptly ignored me. She hadn’t exactly been friendly, but she’d always been a little standoffish with me, even at Thanksgiving. I just chalked that up to her personality.

  “No apology necessary,” I said.

  We stood there awkwardly for a minute. She didn’t seem like she was in any hurry to leave.

  “I assume your dad made it home?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He and Mom just finished talking.”

  I kept as neutral of an expression as I could. “Oh? Did he…learn anything new?”

  “I didn’t hear their conversation,” Jill said. “They were in the kitchen. But they were laughing and joking with each other at the end, so I’d say it went well.”

  “Laughing and joking?” This wasn’t at all what I’d expected to hear. Gunnar had been so angry at the thought of Lucy possibly setting him up that he’d marched out of the Wicked Wich, intent on confronting her. I’d managed to calm him down, and he’d assured me he’d be rational when he talked to her, but I couldn’t picture their conversation involving any sort of laughter.

  “They’ve always had a great relationship,” Jill said. “I think they’re starting to remember that.”

  I pressed my lips together and said nothing. She was making it loud and clear that she wanted to see her parents back together. Unfortunately for her, the conversations I’d had with both of them indicated neither were interested in that.

  I didn’t want to ask myself why that thought filled me with relief.

  “So, anyway, I just wanted to tell you that,” she said. She turned to go.

  Luke shifted on the couch and Jill noticed him for the first time. She froze on her path back to the door.

  Her whole demeanor changed. “Hey,” she said, her eyes sparking with interest. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “We met earlier this week, didn’t we?” Luke said.

  Her cheeks colored. “Well, yeah,” she stammered. “I just meant that I didn’t know you were here. In this room.”

  “I’m here all week. Not always in this room, but here.” Luke grinned. “You know, for Christmas.”

  “Where did you say you were visiting from?”

  “California. Berkeley,” he said. “But I used to live here. Well, up by DC, anyway.”

  Jill took a step toward the couch. “You had a guitar with you, didn’t you?” she asked. “When you got here the other day. It was in the pile of luggage on the porch, right?”

  “Guilty.”

  “You always bring your guitar on vacation with you?”

  “Not always,” Luke said. He was now sitting up, his feet on the floor. “But there’s a place in Charlottesville I’m hoping to book a gig. Figured I could swing by and do a little show, drop off one of our CDs.”

  I made a face. I wasn’t looking too kindly on the gig he’d lined up, especially since he’d considered running guns to secure it.

  “I didn’t know that,” Jill said. She was clearly impressed. She looked at me. “Why didn’t you say anything about it? I’d love to go!”

  I opened my mouth to defend myself but Luke spoke for me. “Oh, I just told her today. I meant to tell her earlier, but whenever I remembered to say something, she wasn’t around.”

  Guilt gnawed at me and I shifted my gaze to the floor. I suddenly felt like a horrible mother. I hadn’t been around. At all. My son was booking music gigs and contemplating committing crimes in exchange for living out his dreams and I’d been nowhere to be found.

  Jill let out a little squeal and I glanced back up at her. Her eyes were like saucers now. “So you’re an actual musician? Like a legit one?”

  Luke chuckled. “I don’t know about legit. But yeah, that’s how I make a living.”

  “Oh my god.” Jill was in full fangirl mode. She hurried over to the couch and dropped down next to him. She peeled off her coat and flung it over the arm of the couch. “I want to hear all about your music, your band. What club are you going to play in? I know a bunch of them in Charlottesville.”

  Her enthusiasm had an immediate effect on Luke. I was sure it didn’t hurt that she was an attractive girl, fawning all over him.

  “You want me to grab my guitar?” he offered. “I can play you a couple of songs.”

  Jill practically swooned. “Oh my god. You would do that?”

  Luke shrugged, but I could see his ego was quickly doubling in size. “Sure, why not? My guitar is out in the guest house.”

  He stood up and Jill got to her feet, too. “I’ll go with you,” she said quickly.

  I wondered if they’d be back anytime soon. Jill looked ready to devour him, and as I watched them disappear down the hall toward the kitchen, I wondered if this was what Luke experienced on a daily basis back home.

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about it. He was my son, my sweet little boy, not a wannabe rock star that women lusted over.

  I leaned down to put the wrapping supplies away. Something by the couch chimed, loudly.

  I looked up. It wasn’t the ringtone on my phone, but it definitely sounded like a chime someone’s phone would make. I put the paper and supplies back in the closet before walking over to the couch to investigate. A pink phone was on the couch cushion where Jill had been sitting. It must have fallen out of her pocket.

  I turned it over and the screen lit up.

  Two text messages were on the
screen and my mouth dropped open when I read them.

  ANY PROGRESS?

  I NEED IT BACK.

  THIRTY THREE

  I dropped the phone back on to the cushion.

  My brain went into overdrive.

  There was no name associated with the texts, just a number. The area code was local.

  I stood by the couch and stared at the phone.

  I had no idea what the texts were referring to. None.

  But I wanted to find out. Because nothing was adding up—about the situation with Gunnar, about why Lucy was really there, and about Jill’s delusion of getting her parents back together.

  I picked up the phone, trying not to notice that my hand shook a little as I did so. I hesitated, and then swiped the screen. There was no lock screen and it opened immediately to the text messages. There was no thread to read and I frowned. I’d been hoping that on the off chance I could access Jill’s phone, I’d be able to read through what had led up to those texts to see if they provided context.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then made my decision. I typed a response back.

  YES

  A response came back immediately.

  WHAT NOW?

  I frowned. This was not the message I’d wanted. I tapped out a response.

  WE SHOULD MEET

  As soon as I typed it, I immediately regretted it. What if this person wasn’t nearby? Sure, they had a local number, but that didn’t mean anything in the age of cell phones. Luke still had a Virginia area code and he lived across the country.

  Whoever was on the other end of the messages was quick to reply.

  WHERE?

  I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But I couldn’t end the conversation now. I needed to see where this was going.

  MY DAD’S?

  I held my breath as I waited for the reply.

  BE THERE IN THIRTY.

  I held the phone and stared at the screen. Thirty minutes. Whoever I’d been corresponding with would be at Gunnar’s in thirty minutes. And he or she would be expecting to see Jill.