The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,38
sure they do. Should I drive up there?”
“No, let’s pretend we’re visiting Great Aunt Mimi. I think there’s a parking garage at the back. Why do you think it’s funny that lesbians like me?”
“I don’t think it’s funny,” Tean said, steering the truck toward the parking structure Jem had indicated. “It’s kind of a sweeping statement. I mean, I’m sure not all lesbians like you.”
“You’re sure? Did one of them say something?”
“And, I mean, you do kind of go on and on with your hair. I don’t know how butch that is.”
Jem froze while clutching more fries. One by one, he let them trickle back into the cardboard container. Then he wiped his fingers on his leg, where the oil and salt wouldn’t stain the knit shorts.
“Excuse me?”
“And you really love that comb. I caught you talking to it one day.”
“I wasn’t talking to—” Jem blew out a huge breath. “Wow.”
Shrugging, Tean pulled into a visitor parking space.
“Your hair is a fucking mess.”
“I know.”
“It looks like a haystack.”
“Probably.”
“After a bunch of cows got at it.”
“A herd. A bunch of cows is called a herd.”
Jem wasn’t sure what to call the noise he was making.
When Tean slid out of the car, Jem jammed a few more fries in his mouth, grabbed the second Big Mac, and trotted after him.
“Ok, what now?” Tean said, staring up and down the aisle of the parking garage.
“What do you mean? It was your idea to come out here.”
“They live in Unit 5C. They’re not answering the phone, and I’m not scaling the building, so use your criminal mind and figure out how we’re going to get inside.”
“Why are you being so mean to me? I gave you the two best fries in the whole sleeve.”
“Prowler,” Tean said, as though that explained anything. “Now think.”
Grimacing, Jem jogged up the aisle, checking the cars on either side of him. He didn’t have anything specific he was looking for, not yet. He was riffing. It was one of the things he did best. Halfway down the aisle, he stopped next to an ivory-colored Crown Victoria that looked almost as old as he was. He peered in the window, examining the spread of birthday cards on top of what looked like a stack of mail, and called, “Doc.”
When Tean arrived, Jem pointed through the window. “I can’t read that.”
“That is some seriously bad cursive,” Tean said. “I don’t know if I can read it either.” Squinting, he leaned closer to the glass. “’Happy Birthday, Edna. Love, Dick and Linda and the pork boys.’ No, wait. ‘Pool boys. PS – Next year, easy on the tanning oil.’”
“Pork boys?”
“Shut up.”
“Can you see her last name anywhere?”
“No.”
“Ok, back to the truck.”
When they got to the Ford, Jem rummaged through the cab. After a moment of digging through the junk—rubber boots, coveralls, miscellaneous tools, he found something he could use. He let out a little crow of triumph and squirmed backward out of the truck.
“That’s a Whirl-Pak bag,” Tean said. “I use those when I’m collecting specimens.”
“Knife,” Jem said. “And stick these gloves in your pocket for when we get a little more criminalish.”
Tean handed over his pocketknife, and Jem trimmed away the yellow seal from the top of the transparent bag. “Come on.”
“What are we doing?”
“Something devious and criminal.”
“I know. But what exactly?”
Jem led him out of the parking garage. Flower beds ran along the side of the garage that faced the main road, so Jem pointed to the flowers and said, “Time to make a lovely birthday present for third-cousin twice-removed Edna.”
He went to work, using Tean’s knife to trim tulips and early roses. No one had come outside since they’d arrived, and no new cars had come toward the garage. The transparent sleeve of the Whirl-Pak bag worked to wrap the bouquet, and in under five minutes, Jem had a decent flower arrangement to deliver.
“So we just walk up to the front door and tell them we’ve got flowers for Aunt Edna?”
“Third-cousin Edna,” Jem said, working his phone out of his pocket again.
“But they’re going to say, ‘Edna who?’ And I’m just going to immediately confess everything.”
“This would be a lot easier,” Jem said, placing a call, “if you were even remotely disposed to sneakiness.” Into the phone, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, you can help me. You can help me get that bitch’s car out of my fucking parking spot. And you can help me by doing it fucking yesterday so I didn’t have to come home to deal with