5 From the Grounds Up by Sandra Balzo

Author:Sandra Balzo [Balzo, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy Mystery
ISBN: 9781847512031
Google: Oy5sRQAACAAJ
Goodreads: 7017655
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2010-02-28T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The crash came not ten minutes later.

Sarah was the first one to the front door. She stopped dead at the threshold. Tien piled into her and I piled into Tien.

'What?' I struggled to peer over Tien's shoulder and around Sarah.

And then I saw it. A car. Not just any car, but a Firebird. A 1975, lemon-yellow Firebird.

It was nose-up on what was left of the porch steps, winged insignia not eight inches from where its owner was standing.

Sarah cried like someone who didn't know how.

The sobs were more like strangling noises. In fact, at first I thought she was having a heart attack as Tien and I edged around her to the side of the deck Ronny had repaired.

He'd have to do it again.

'Are you OK? I asked.

'Call nine-one-one,' Sarah gasped.

'What is it, chest pains?'

'Not for me, you idiot. For him.' She nodded to the car. A little string of snot dangled from Sarah's nose like a syrupy icicle.

'Sniff,' I said.

'Sniff?'

'You've got . . . mucus coming out of your nose.'

'I've got "mucus" coming out of my nose?' She advanced on me. 'My Firebird, the love of my life, is permanently planted in the depot.' She had me backed up against the wall and we were toe-to-toe. 'And you're worried about my nose running?'

'I'll call nine-one-one,' I said, and slipped away, climbing over the rail and dropping to the ground four feet below.

Abject terror makes fools of all of us.

I landed hard on my hands and knees. I hadn't gone inside to call, partly because Sarah stood between me and the door, but mainly because the depot didn't have a working landline. And I had no idea where my handbag and cellphone were.

I tried the florist shop next door.

The 'Closed' sign was still up and when I peered through the window, the place looked deserted. Only a counter and, in the center of that counter, a planter shaped like a cow. The orange and green plants in it were still bright, the arrangement obviously artificial. And just plug ugly.

'No wonder they went out of business,' I muttered.

It wasn't good news that we had an empty storefront next to us, but I had a hunch it wouldn't lie fallow for long.

But that didn't help me now.

On the other side of the street was PartyPeople. I stepped out to cross, and almost became the hood ornament for a Lexus SUV. I would have asked the soccer mom driving it to call for help on her cell, but she was already busy texting. She did a double-take as she passed the Firebird on the steps to the station, but drove on.

Art Jenada didn't answer the door when I pounded. No hours were posted, but I assumed his work as a caterer didn't require regular 'open' hours for the public.

As I stepped off his front stoop, Rebecca Penn jogged across the road from the direction of the florist shop. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and had a bottle of water in her hand.

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