Chapter 15

It was a good question. When last I’d been there, when I realized Jenn was missing, her red BMW Z4, her “baby”, had been sitting in the driveway. Like normal. Only I knew for a fact my sister would never have left the keys to “baby” dangling from the ignition.

“Maybe someone stole it?…wait! maybe she’s back and she ran an errand!” I turned to the man who was a cross between Columbo and Spenser for Hire, saw the look of “yeah, sure, that’s it” on his face, and quickly came back to reality. To the sick dread that had been steadily creeping and crawling all over my body since this mess began. Roger was staring at me, with that “oh you poor girl” look on his face.

When I’d gotten up this morning and looked out the window, I confirmed Bob Mitchum’s (no, really, that’s his name) weather forecast for most of the state. Sunny today with unseasonably warm temps and higher than normal humidity levels for this time of year. Damn if Bob hadn’t hit the bull’s eye.

Fall in New England usually appears gradually, slowly. It lessons it’s grip on the heat of summer little by little right up until the first week of October or so. That’s when you can sense the seasonal shift. Each day reluctantly relinquishing it’s hold until you find yourself switching out of shorts for long pants and the camisole for a sweater.

Glancing over to where Jenn’s car had been parked less than 24 hrs ago, I felt sweat forming tiny little beads at my hairline. I had that clammy feeling. The hot/cold sweat feeling that washes over you when you realize you have food poisoning. God, don’t let me throw up.

Why the hell did I put on stockings this morning. Really? Fool. Not so steady in the heels today huh sister? I walked over to the spot where Jenn’s car had been parked, did a slow 360 and said “how the fuck do I know?”

“Whoah, little lady! Calm down. Time out. You asked me for help, remember? Retainer or not, if you don’t want to go through with this tell me now. It won’t be the first time someone’s turned tail ‘cuz they didn’t have the stomach for it.”

That did it. No sooner had Roger finished his little speech and I was hurling. My new shoe god Guiseppe Zanotti would be happy to know I didn’t puke all over his glorious creation. Columbo for Hire wasn’t so lucky. At least replacing his shoes won’t cost a week’s salary.

 

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. a kick, Roger! good work! jean

  2. Glad you liked it Jean!


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