Citizen Insane - By Karen Cantwell Page 0,25
Rustic Woods, he’s only asking for trouble, right?”
“What’s medevac?” asked Amber.
“It’s an emergency helicopter,” answered Bethany. Then she rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re buying this story.”
Amber stuck out her tongue at Bethany who had returned to better fiction than we were providing. “Mommy wouldn’t lie to us, would you Mommy?” She touched my band-aid lightly. “Did you get hurt when you hit him?”
I nodded while wondering if I’d go to Hell for lying to my children. This was a little different than telling them that the green bits in the chicken and rice bake were chopped green apples instead of broccoli. Sometimes mothers just have to get the job done.
Callie jumped up from her chair and threw her backpack over one shoulder. “I’m outa here, freaks.” She was gone before I could think of a reply.
I sipped my hot coffee. “She’s in a mood today. I hope she doesn’t fall asleep in school.”
Colt was rinsing dishes in the sink. “She’s been that way since I picked them up. She mumbled something about her father never being around and me being around too much and then she didn’t open her mouth again.”
“Yikes.” It was hard enough raising a teen-ager, but adding a little marital strife into the mix made it even harder. “Okay girls,” I said, changing the subject. “Go upstairs and get ready for school. You have to be at the bus stop in twenty minutes.”
They cried out in unison, “Drive us, please! Drive us!” Their pleading eyes were too much to bear.
“But my van isn’t here.”
“Where is it?”
Actually, I didn’t know where it was. I’d been left out of the loop.
“It’s at the auto repair shop,” Colt stepped in. “When you hit a polar bear, even if you don’t hurt him very bad, it does a number on your bumper, trust me. I’ll take you guys—I have to head out soon anyway. You can ride in The Judge and all of your friends will be jealous that you’re being chauffeured in such a COOL car.”
“It’s an OLD car, with a silly name,” sneered Amber as she and Bethany ran upstairs to brush their teeth.
“Did you hear that?” he asked, taking the seat next to mine. “No one appreciates a classic.”
“It is a silly name.”
He pretended to be shot in the heart. “Now that hurts.”
“Is my van really at the auto repair shop?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know where it is?”
He leaned in close and grinned. “I know everything, beautiful.”
“Evidence?”
Colt nodded and sat back again. “What were you doing out so late anyway?”
I grinned back. “I thought you knew everything.”
“I know you were out in the middle of the night and hit a woman who’d been shot three times by a 45 caliber pistol at close range. A Glock 21—nice item. Wish I had me one.”
“How do you know that?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Connections?”
“Every PI has them. Especially super sexy ones like myself. But those connections didn’t tell me why you were out so late.”
Shaking my head, I began my sorrowful tale. “This crackpot on Green Ashe Place named Bunny.”
“Bunny Bergen—the one that Fredo mentioned?”
I shook my head. “His name is Waldo. And yes, Bunny Bergen—you know her?”
He smiled. “Not intimately.”
“Stop it—how do you know her?”
“I don’t really. She stopped by the condo one day looking for Howard. Said she was a friend of the family.”
“How would she know where he lives?”
“You mean she’s not a friend of the family?”
“A friend of the Addams Family maybe, but not mine. Howard’s up to something . . .”
My face started that puckering thing it does before the tear ducts start to fill. I didn’t want to cry. I tried really hard not to in fact. It was a sign of weakness and I had worked so hard the last few months to be strong. To be the heroine in my own life and in my daughters’ eyes. Well, that wasn’t going so well these days. Before I knew what was happening, the tears were spilling out onto my cheeks like lake waters overflowing the dike.
“Curly,” Colt hugged me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m an idiot.”
“You’re a lot of things, but you’re not an idiot.”
“I am. I’m a boob and an idiot. He wasn’t home this morning was he? That’s why you brought the girls.”
He nodded.
“It’s all my fault. This date-me-and-win-me-back thing was my idea and now single women are falling at his feet. How can I compete with a body like Bunny Bergen’s? I’m losing him.”
“Trust me—if there’s one thing I know, you’re not losing