other names that aren’t worth repeating.” Rosemarie dropped her voice down to a whisper. “I think she was just out of sorts because she missed her morning nap, and the jackhammers were giving her a migraine.”
“Jackhammers?” I asked.
“After the jackhammers started she mumbled something about how she doesn’t do favors for people, and then she stole the keys to your Audi and took off. I have no idea where she went. I’m so sorry I failed you. I didn’t think she’d be so hard to handle, and if you let your attention slip just for a second she’s off getting into stuff. She reminds me of Johnny Castle when he was a puppy.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, wanting desperately to ask about the jackhammers. “I put a tracker on her phone back when she was dating Ugly Mo in case she got kidnapped, so I’ll find her. Umm…how long do you think this home improvement project is going to take?”
“I don’t know,” Rosemarie said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. Need to talk to my contractor and I’ll get back with you.”
“Uhh,” I said, but she’d already hung up. My grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. The house isn’t torn apart. The baby will have a lovely room to come home to, and all of those people and Rosemarie and Scarlet will be out of our house and far away.”
By the time I’d finished my pep talk, I was even more uptight and anxious than I was before I started, and my deep breathing exercises were close to hyperventilation. I saw the exit for Whiskey Bayou and veered off the highway and toward the one thing that could make everything better.
In my opinion, the people who owned the Dairy Queen in Whiskey Bayou were geniuses. It was a husband and wife couple—George and Toy Floyd—and no one knew anything about them. They were an enigma, and they’d bought the old Briar house on Marsh Road after the family lost the house to foreclosure.
There was one road in and one road out of Whiskey Bayou since the whole town backed up to the marsh, and they’d built the Dairy Queen just outside of the city limits, before the Welcome to Whiskey Bayou sign, so it was the first and last thing you saw as you entered or left the town. They’d gotten a good deal of my money and everyone else’s over the years.
I ordered a hot fudge sundae with extra whipped cream and nuts for myself, and I ordered a hamburger and fries for the baby. The sun was shining and people were taking advantage of it even though it was still too cold to function, in my opinion.
The van was recognizable to everyone, and considering the last time they saw me barreling through town was when Savage had gotten shot, I could understand the stares and hesitant waves.
I’d finished the sundae and the fries by the time I reached the house, and I blew out a sigh of relief as I saw my Audi parked in the driveway next to the General Lee—or at least halfway in the driveway. She got points for trying I guess.
I pulled under the giant mossy oak next to the driveway, and I decided to leave the burger in the car for a snack later. I didn’t bother to lock the van. I went in the side gate to the back of the house. There was a shed and a garage behind the house, and I could see the new gazebo and pond that had been put in on the side yard. A wooden fence surrounded the back and side of the property to divide between the neighbors’ yards.
I saw Edna peeping over the fence near the garage, and I remembered what Scarlet said about talking to the neighbors for information. I cut across the yard and headed toward her. She must’ve been standing on a box or something else, because Edna wasn’t much taller than Scarlet and she was almost as old.
“Hey, Edna,” I said, giving her a little wave. Edna Mohlner had been old when I’d been a kid. I never remember her having a husband, but I do remember her elderly mother had lived with her before she passed.
Edna pinched her lips and looked down at the ground, probably trying to decide if she had time to make a run for it. But she was old and I walked fast, and